Chapter 3 Use Her to Block the Scandal

Tears blurred Jocelyn's vision completely.

"Jocelyn, you got exactly what you wanted." Raymond's mocking voice cut through the air. "Now that you have those shares, are you reconsidering? Planning to stay after all?"

Victor chimed in from the side with a sneer. "Of course she is. Everyone knows why she married into this family. Dad must have been blind to care so much about such a gold-digger."

Jocelyn carefully folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope.

She raised her head to meet Raymond's gaze, her eyes devoid of emotion. "No. I'm filing for divorce."

Raymond froze, clearly caught off guard.

Jocelyn turned to Mr. Jenkins. "Please prepare the divorce papers for me. I don't want the Murphy family shares or the money."

"You're serious?" A gleam appeared in Victor's eyes.

"Jocelyn!" Raymond grabbed her wrist roughly. "What the hell are you playing at?"

Jocelyn looked at the disgust and suspicion in his eyes and felt nothing but bone-deep exhaustion.

She pulled her hand free. "Raymond, after Grandpa's funeral, I'll give you the signed divorce papers."

Three days later, William's funeral was held at the cemetery.

Dressed in black, Jocelyn stood quietly at the back of the crowd.

She didn't cry. She simply watched as Grandpa's casket was lowered into the ground, saying her silent goodbye.

After the funeral, she handed Raymond an envelope.

"The divorce papers—I've already signed them. The share transfer documents are inside too. Everything Grandpa left me, I'm returning to the Murphy family." Her tone was calm. "From today on, we're even."

Raymond stared at the papers without taking them. "Jocelyn, you think this little performance will make me think better of you? I'm sick of these manipulative games."

Jocelyn smiled—a smile tinged with bitterness and resignation. "Think whatever you want."

She placed the envelope on a nearby table and turned to leave.

A black sedan pulled up. As she opened the door, she glanced back one last time.

Raymond still stood there, clutching the divorce papers, his expression dark.

Nora walked over to him, whispering something in his ear.

But Jocelyn no longer cared. She withdrew her gaze and got into the car.

In the days following the funeral, Jocelyn stayed at Murphy Villa, quietly packing her belongings.

She didn't have much—a single suitcase was enough.

Just as she finished, her phone rang. It was Lena Lynn, Raymond's secretary.

Jocelyn hesitated before answering.

"Mrs. Murphy, are you available? Mr. Murphy's run into some trouble. Could you come right away?" Lena's voice was urgent.

Jocelyn frowned. "What happened to him?"

"I can't explain over the phone. I'm sending you an address—please come as soon as you can."

After hanging up, Jocelyn stared at the hotel address and room number on her screen, her fingertips turning cold.

Common sense told her she shouldn't get involved with Raymond's problems anymore.

They were getting divorced. His affairs were no longer her concern.

But thinking of William's kindness to her over the years, she couldn't bring herself to ignore this.

After a long internal debate, Jocelyn grabbed her coat and car keys and left.

Following Lena's directions, Jocelyn arrived at a five-star hotel. The moment she stepped out of her car, she sensed something was wrong.

A crowd of reporters swarmed the hotel entrance. Security tried to maintain order, but the mob was restless.

"Is it really Raymond? Did he actually have an affair?"

"Definitely! He and the Watson heiress went into the hotel one after another—they've been in there for hours!"

The reporters' conversation reached Jocelyn's ears. Her steps faltered, and her face drained of color.

So this was the "trouble"—Raymond and Nora meeting privately, now trapped by reporters.

Jocelyn's chest felt like it had been struck by a blunt instrument. After the dull ache came only numb coldness.

She turned to leave, but her phone vibrated again. It was Lena.

"Mrs. Murphy, are you here? I've arranged for someone to meet you at the service entrance on the west side of the hotel. Come up through there—go straight to the top floor."

Jocelyn was silent for a few seconds before following the instructions, circling to the west side and entering through the staff corridor.

The moment she reached the room, she spotted something on the carpet in the center of the living room—a black lace bra.

She didn't need to guess whose it was.

The air still carried a trace of sweet perfume mixed with something unmistakably intimate.

Raymond stood with his back to her, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. He wore only a white bathrobe, the belt tied loosely. His hair was still damp—he'd clearly just showered.

Hearing movement at the door, Raymond slowly turned around, looking somewhat weary.

"Where's Nora?" Jocelyn scanned the suite but saw no sign of her.

"I had her leave first." Raymond's tone was flat.

"So you called me here to see this?" A cold smile twisted Jocelyn's lips.

Raymond's brow furrowed slightly. "The reporters downstairs need to be dealt with."

He gestured toward the window. "In a moment, you'll come out with me and tell them the woman I was with at the hotel was you."

"What?" Jocelyn stared at him in disbelief, her eyes filled with desolation. "Raymond, just how low do I have to sink before you're satisfied humiliating me?"

"Jocelyn!" Raymond's voice was sharp. "Can't you be a little more understanding? Nora's a public figure. She just returned to the country—this kind of scandal would destroy her reputation!"

So this was all for his mistress.

Raymond would rather shoulder the public scrutiny himself than let Nora suffer even the slightest harm.

"She's a public figure who's afraid of scandals—but what about me?" Tears finally spilled down Jocelyn's cheeks. "Do I deserve to be used by you people?"

The more she spoke, the more agitated she became. Five years of grievances and pain erupted in that moment.

But Raymond only looked at her coldly. "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you're worthy of being compared to Nora?"

Jocelyn froze, then raised her hand to slap him.

But Raymond caught her wrist in an iron grip.

"You want to hit me?" His eyes darkened dangerously. He flung her hand away forcefully. Jocelyn stumbled backward, crashing into the hallway cabinet. The pain nearly brought fresh tears to her eyes.

"Who do you think you are?" Raymond advanced on her, his towering frame looming over her. "Asking for your help is a privilege! Don't stand here making a scene like some shrew!"

Jocelyn leaned against the cabinet, her wrist burning with pain. But her heart hurt more.

That's right—in Raymond's eyes, she wasn't worth a single strand of Nora's hair.

"Fine. I don't want to fight with you." Raymond rubbed his temples, his voice tired. "I'll make you a deal. Handle this crisis for me, and I'll sign the divorce papers."