Early the next morning, I took the divorce agreement to Carter Group.
Daniel and I had founded this company together.
Back then, I had sold my parents' house and scraped together two million dollars in startup capital.
After the company got on track, he said it was more important for me to stay home and take care of Chloe, and that he would handle the business. I agreed.
From then on, I became the full-time mother people claimed did nothing but enjoy an easy life. I rarely came to the company anymore.
The two young women at the front desk looked me up and down.
I had not slept all night. My hair was messy, and my clothes were wrinkled.
Disdain appeared on their faces.
"Stop right there. Who are you here to see? Do you have an appointment?"
My voice was hoarse. "I'm here to see Daniel."
"Mr. Carter's name isn't something you get to throw around. Look at you. Get out before we call security."
I frowned. "I'm Grace, Daniel's wife."
The two receptionists exchanged a look, then burst into laughter.
"Grace? Never heard of her. Since when does Mr. Carter have a wife? He and Ms. Morgan are the real couple. Everyone in the company knows that."
"Exactly," the other receptionist chimed in.
Just then, the elevator doors opened, and Emily stepped out.
She was wearing a custom-tailored skirt suit, with the watch Daniel had given her on her wrist.
When she saw me, she put on a look of surprise. "Grace? Come in, quickly."
She turned to the front desk and said, "This is Mr. Carter's wife. Don't stop her again."
The two receptionists went deathly ashen and lowered their heads, not daring to speak.
Once we entered the elevator, the smile on Emily's face disappeared, replaced by mockery.
"Grace, how long has it been since you last came to the company? Even the front desk clerk doesn't recognize you anymore. Mr. Carter has it hard. Don't you know how valuable his time is? You should be more considerate of him. Women should learn to be generous. I don't mind sharing him between the three of us. From now on, you can handle the meals at home on schedule, and I'll assist him at the company. How does that sound?"
I leaned against the elevator wall, closed my eyes, and ignored her.
When the elevator reached the top floor, Emily pushed open the door to the president's office.
"Mr. Carter, Grace is here."
Daniel sat behind his desk. Without lifting his head, he stared at his watch and said, "What are you doing here? I have a departmental meeting in three minutes. Make it quick."
I said nothing. My gaze swept across the office.
There was not a single trace of Chloe or me here.
The clock on the wall had been a gift from Emily, accurate down to the millisecond.
In the company photo on the bookshelf, Daniel and Emily stood together, smiling brightly.
Even his thermos matched Emily's.
My gaze fell to the lower right corner of the desk.
A hardcover notebook had been wedged there as padding. Its corners were worn down. It was Chloe's sketchbook.
I strode over and snatched it up. Coffee stains marked the cover, and deep creases cut across it.
I gripped the sketchbook so tightly that my knuckles turned ashen.
"Daniel, this is how you treat Chloe's things?"
He raised his head, looking impatient, and glanced at his watch.
"Isn't it just some old notebook? Emily bumped into the corner of the desk yesterday and damaged it. I just needed something to prop it up."
Emily tugged at his arm.
"This is all my fault, Grace. I'm sorry. I didn't know it belonged to Chloe. I'll make it up to you, okay?"
I let out a cold laugh.
"How exactly are you going to make it up to me? Chloe is being buried tomorrow morning at ten. Can you give her back to me?"
Daniel slammed his hand on the desk, sending documents scattering across the floor.
"Grace! Enough! You're so jealous you've lost your mind. You keep cursing Chloe again and again! I'm telling you, if anything happens to Chloe, I will never let you off!"
I placed the divorce agreement on the desk.
"Save it. Sign. I hold 49% of the shares in the company. Pay me out in cash, and I won't ask for anything else."
Daniel picked up the agreement, glanced over it, and scoffed.
"Shares? What shares? Six months ago, at exactly three o'clock in the afternoon on March fifteenth, you signed the share transfer agreement. You transferred everything to me."
I froze.
Six months ago, he had brought a stack of documents home and told me they were just part of the company's routine procedures, asking me to sign them.
I had signed without even looking.
So he had set the trap long ago.
I looked at him, feeling cold all the way through.
"You planned this from the beginning, didn't you?"
He said calmly, "I was the one who built this company into what it is. It was always supposed to be mine. I transferred twenty thousand dollars to you on the fifteenth of every month, right on time. I've been more than fair."
I said nothing more. I picked up the sketchbook, turned around, and left.
I found a lawyer and handed over all the evidence after organizing it.
Then I went home, took my luggage, and erased every trace of myself from that place.
Just as I left the residential complex, my lawyer called.
"Ms. Miller, something happened. Ms. Morgan was in a car accident. Mr. Carter insists you did it for revenge and says he's going to sue you. He told you to wait for it."
I hung up and stood by the roadside, feeling that the whole thing was beyond absurd.
