Chapter 2

Back in the bedroom, she closed the door. The world fell silent.

The scaffolding inside her collapsed. She slid down against the door, sitting on the cold floor, staring blankly at the unfinished LEGO spaceship in the corner—Theo's project from last night. His favorite little blanket lay beside it.

She walked over and clutched his tiny astronaut jacket to her chest, burying her face in it.

The fabric was cold. No more warm, soft little body to hold.

"Theo..."

A hoarse sob tore through her throat. She curled up, crying until her insides twisted together.

Her mind replayed his final moments on loop—cold little hands, lifeless eyes. Every image tore at her raw, bleeding heart.

That night, tears dried up only to flood out again. She held Theo's clothes, tossing and turning until dawn crept in. Only in utter exhaustion did she drift into unconsciousness.

When she woke, her pillow was cold and damp.

At nine o'clock, she stood outside the court.

The sky after the rain was overcast and gray—just like her heart.

She waited twenty minutes. Then her phone rang.

The steward from Stuart Manor, his voice frantic. "Mrs. Stuart, Mr. Owen Stuart had a sudden chest pain. He's been taken to Hopewell Hospital—it doesn't look good!"

Harriet's heart clenched. "I'll be right there!"

Owen was one of the few people who'd ever shown her warmth. Her benefactor. Like a grandfather to her.

Outside the emergency room, the attending physician looked grave. "Mr. Stuart's old condition flared up, compounded by emotional stress. The surgery carries risks. You need to be prepared."

Harriet waited outside, hands and feet ice-cold. Time crawled, every second an eternity.

Finally, the operating light went out. Owen was wheeled out, his face ashen.

In the hospital room, he slowly regained consciousness. Seeing Harriet, his cloudy eyes flickered. He struggled to lift his hand.

Harriet grasped his withered fingers, forcing a smile. "Grandpa, don't move. Rest. Theo and I... we're both waiting for you to get better."

Owen stared at her, lips trembling, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

He shook his head weakly, voice barely a whisper. "Don't lie to me anymore... I know about Theo..."

Harriet's mask shattered. Tears poured down her face.

"You've suffered so much, child..." Owen wept. "The Stuart family has wronged you. That bastard... his own child... and he still..."

The monitor began beeping in alarm.

"Grandpa! Please don't get upset!" Harriet gripped his hand tightly, frantically trying to calm him.

She took a deep breath, struggling to steady her voice. "Grandpa, I don't blame anyone. But Julian... he doesn't need to know about Theo."

Owen looked at her lifeless eyes, his heart breaking.

"Grandpa." Her voice went firm. "I want to divorce Julian. Please... give your consent."

Owen closed his eyes. Tears slid into his white hair.

After a long pause, he gave the faintest nod—as if it took all his remaining strength.

Her phone buzzed. Julian.

She stepped outside to answer.

"Harriet, where the hell are you? Is this what you call 'see you in court'?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Playing hard to get should have limits."

"I'm at Hopewell Hospital. Grandpa had an episode. He just got out of surgery."

Two seconds of silence. Then an even colder eruption. "To avoid divorce, you'd even use Grandpa? Harriet, you really are something."

"Julian, that's not—"

"Shut up. I'm coming over now. Stay the hell away from him."

The call cut dead.

Less than half an hour later, Julian stormed in, fury radiating off him.

He glanced at his grandfather in bed, then shot a piercing glare at Harriet.

He closed in on her, voice full of disgust. "To avoid divorce, you got Grandpa hospitalized. If anything happens to him, you'll pay with your life."

"Julian! What are you saying?" Owen coughed violently from the bed.

Harriet's face drained of color. She didn't have the strength to argue.

She looked at this man she'd loved for years. The last shred of hope turned to ash.

"Get out." Julian pointed at the door. "Don't show your face around Grandpa again."

Harriet's body swayed. Her eyes were empty, desolate.

She gave Owen a reassuring smile, bowed gently, and left.

"You fool!" Owen pointed at Julian, hand shaking. "Do you know what she's been through—"

"Grandpa, please. Your health matters." Julian stepped forward, disdain still etched in his expression. "She knows you're soft-hearted. That's why she's pulling this."

Owen sank back, closing his eyes in disappointment, tears streaming down.

After a long silence, he murmured, "Julian... your stubbornness... one day, you'll regret this..."

Julian frowned, staring out the window. He said nothing.

Back at the villa, Harriet began packing her few belongings.

Her phone rang—the traffic officer handling Theo's case.

His tone was apologetic. "Ms. Douglas, about the driver... he's been released on bail. The case might drag on for a long time."

The rest blurred into static. Her ears buzzed. Blood rushed to her head.

Her Theo—a precious life—dead on the way to see his father. And the killer could just walk free?

Rage erupted in her dead heart, burning through her entire body.

The sound of a key turning came from the front door.

Julian walked in, seemingly surprised she was actually packing.

Harriet had her back to him, pulling out a cashmere sweater she'd bought him from the closet. She'd saved for months—his usual brand. He'd never worn it once.

The irony hit hard. She hurled it into the trash can.

Julian's gaze followed the arc. For a split second, something stuttered in his chest.

Then his eyes landed on the large wedding photo on the wall. In it, she wore white, her smile shy and hopeful. He looked expressionless. Distant.

That flicker of unease vanished instantly.

"Done with the act?" He loosened his tie. "Where's the little brat?"

Harriet's spine stiffened. She didn't turn around.

Julian pulled a toy car from his briefcase and set it on the coffee table. "I remember he likes these. Give it to him."

His phone rang. He answered immediately, his voice a warmth Harriet had never heard. "What's wrong? Zane wants that limited-edition robot? All right, I'll go get it..."

He hung up. Didn't glance at her. Turned and left.

The door slammed. Silence filled the vast space.

Harriet slowly turned, her gaze landing on the toy car.

With trembling hands, she picked up her phone. Kenna had just posted an update.

The photo showed Zane sitting among expensive toys. The caption: [Julian spoils Zane so much. He got bored of the car model we bought last time and insisted on a new one, so we had to buy another!]

In the corner of the picture, among discarded toys, was a car model identical to the one on the coffee table.

So that's how it was.

A castoff. Even the toy was a castoff.

She stared at it, then looked up at the wedding photo—at the girl who'd once been so full of hope.

A mocking smile twisted her lips. She walked over and took the photo down.

What a joke.

She hurled the frame to the floor.

Glass shattered. Shards scattered everywhere. The faces in the photo tore into countless pieces.

Then she picked up the toy car, walked to the trash can, and tossed it in with the cashmere sweater.