Chapter2 Let's Get Divorced

Evening came. Miranda was discharged from the hospital.

The taxi stopped in front of a familiar villa. This was the home she shared with Harrison.

But now it only felt cold and foreign.

She pushed open the door. Laughter drifted from the living room.

Harrison sat on the sofa peeling an apple. Ariana sat beside him, her face pale as if she'd barely survived something terrible, looking utterly pitiful.

The scene was cozy as a painting, but it stabbed at Miranda's eyes.

This was only the second time she'd seen her husband since the kidnapping and miscarriage.

Hearing the door open, Harrison looked up. When he saw Miranda, his brow furrowed slightly.

"You're back."

His tone was flat, like he was greeting an unimportant guest.

He set down the knife and stood up, his voice taking on a serious edge.

"Ariana went through quite a trauma. She's not in good shape mentally. The doctor said she needs a familiar, peaceful environment to recover."

"So she'll be staying here for a while."

Miranda said nothing. She just watched him quietly.

Harrison avoided her gaze and continued. "I've cleared out the master bedroom for Ariana. You can take the guest room upstairs."

The master bedroom.

Their marital bedroom.

Every piece of furniture in there, she had chosen herself.

Miranda's throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. When she spoke, her voice was dry.

"Harrison, that's our bedroom."

Ariana's eyes immediately reddened. She stood up weakly and tugged at Harrison's sleeve.

"Harrison, does she not want me here?"

"If she doesn't like it, then I should just go. I don't want to cause problems between you two."

She looked like she was about to cry and turned to leave.

Harrison grabbed her arm. His expression darkened as he turned to look at Miranda, his eyes full of reproach.

"Miranda!"

He barked out her name.

"Ariana is family. She needs care right now!"

He positioned Ariana behind him like an unshakable fortress.

"You'll stay here and that's final!"

That statement was for Ariana.

"Without my permission, no one's kicking you out."

That one was for Miranda.

Watching him protect Ariana like this, Miranda felt an invisible hand squeezing her heart so hard she could barely breathe.

Seeing her face go pale without a word of response, Harrison's voice grew more impatient.

"You're usually so easygoing. Don't act like some jealous shrew over this. It's ugly."

A jealous shrew?

Miranda turned that phrase over in her mind, a bitter smile touching her lips.

"Ariana's still weak. Go make her something to eat."

Harrison spoke like he was giving an order.

He wanted her, who'd just had a miscarriage and hadn't even recovered, to cook for the woman who'd caused her to lose her baby?

Miranda suddenly laughed. The sound was bleak and mocking.

"Harrison, let's get divorced."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it landed clearly in every corner of the living room.

"My brother's already on his way here with the documents and a lawyer."

Harrison froze, like he hadn't processed what she said.

"What did you just say?"

His brow furrowed, his face full of disbelief.

"I asked you to make some food and you're talking about divorce?"

The words had barely left his mouth when another voice cut through the air.

"Yes, divorce."

A cold voice came from the doorway.

The villa door swung open. Christian Lancaster strode in wearing a black suit, his face hard as stone.

Behind him came Miranda's parents, Arabella Lancaster and Dominic Lancaster, along with Harrison's parents.

Both families had arrived in full force.

Christian walked straight to Miranda's side, positioning himself protectively in front of his sister, staring coldly at Harrison.

He pulled a document from his briefcase and slammed it onto the coffee table.

"Medical records from the hospital."

"My sister had a miscarriage. She's physically weak. And you, her husband, weren't by her side. Instead you're here taking care of another woman?"

"Harrison, we didn't marry our daughter off to you so she could be your maid, and definitely not so she could be humiliated like this!"

Christian's voice was full of fury with every word.

"We can't afford to be connected to the Whitmores anymore!"

Miranda's mother Arabella was already crying. She rushed over and wrapped her arms around her thin daughter, her whole body shaking with heartbreak.

"My Miranda, my daughter..."

Seeing this scene, Ariana's face went even paler. She stepped forward timidly.

"Auntie, Uncle..."

Arabella acted like she hadn't heard anything. She just held Miranda and cried.

But Miranda's father Dominic sighed and spoke up.

"We all watched Ariana grow up. Her father's in prison. She was raised by her mother alone. It's really quite sad."

Instantly, everyone in the living room fell silent.

Miranda's head shot up. She stared at her father in disbelief.

At a time like this, shouldn't he be concerned about his own daughter who'd just lost a baby and been betrayed by her husband?

Why was he speaking up for Ariana?

Miranda's gaze moved back and forth between her father and Ariana, who was crying pitifully.

All these years growing up, their family had never once met Ariana's father.

A ridiculous and terrible thought took root in her mind like a seed being planted.