Chapter 1
At seven months pregnant, I asked my husband Richard Grant to make me some soup.
He said he had something urgent at work and turned me down without a second thought.
That afternoon, I came across a post from an intern at his company.
There was a picture with a caption: [I just offhandedly told my boss I wanted to taste his cooking, and he picked up the ingredients and showed up at my door right away.]
The photo showed a table full of elaborate dishes, and there was my husband, peeling shrimp for her with all the care in the world.
Meanwhile, I was lying in bed, feeling miserable from morning sickness.
I texted my husband, telling him I was feeling awful from all the vomiting.
But all he did was get impatient.
He replied: [If you're feeling that bad, go to the hospital. Telling me won't help.]
The next second, the post got another update.
[I was just trying to lend a hand, but ended up bumping my knee. It really hurts.
[I'm so clumsy, but luckily my boss is here to take care of me, hehe.]
But when I got pregnant by accident, my health was so bad I wasn't supposed to keep the baby.
It was my in-laws who begged me to have the child, just so the Grant family could have an heir.
My husband had no idea that after his car accident, he couldn't have kids anymore.
I calmly wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and called my husband.
"Richard, let's get a divorce," I said.
If that was how things were, then I didn't need that husband or that child anymore.
*****
"What are you complaining about again?" Richard said, clearly annoyed.
"You're going to be a mom soon. Can you stop being so dramatic?
"I'm busy. We'll talk when I get home."
I clenched my fists, but somehow my voice stayed steady, way calmer than I thought it'd be.
"Yes, you're busy," I said.
"Busy taking care of an intern, busy doing her dishes and cooking for her, right?"
There was a brief silence on the other end, and then he sounded pissed. "Are you spying on me?"
I said flatly, "Richard, there's no such thing as a secret that can stay hidden forever."
Richard's brows knitted together.
"Emily's new here and doesn't know anyone. I'm just trying to help her out as her boss. What's wrong with that?
"She can't cook, so I lent her a hand. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it?" he said.
I couldn't help but scoff. "This morning, I was sick to my stomach and feeling awful. I asked you to make me some soup, but you didn't even hesitate to say no."
Richard stared at me in disbelief.
"So you're really going to divorce me over a bowl of soup?" he said.
Emily quickly snatched Richard's phone, her voice choked with grievance.
"Grace, please don't be mad at Mr. Grant. He's honestly such a good guy.
"If you're angry, just blame me. I really didn't think you'd get upset."
Richard immediately jumped in to defend her.
"She's just being dramatic because of the pregnancy hormones, it's not your fault," he said.
"You're getting all worked up over just a bowl of soup? Grace, you're pregnant, not helpless."
I caught the real meaning behind his words, and suddenly, it hit me just how miserable these eight years really were.
When I stayed quiet, he figured I was just throwing a tantrum and started lecturing me, sounding kind of helpless.
"You're about to be a mom. Can't you just let it go?" he said.
"The baby needs a dad, and honestly, where could you even go, being this pregnant?
"It's just a bowl of..."
Before he could finish, I hung up.
Richard was convinced I couldn't make it without him.
To him, I was just a pregnant orphan with nowhere else to turn.
But what he didn't know was that this time, I was truly ready to walk away.
I had my lawyer draft up the divorce papers.
As the papers were being delivered, Richard rushed home, with Emily trailing behind him.
Emily hung back behind him, looking like a nervous little rabbit.
"Mr. Grant, does Grace really want me here?" Emily asked.
"She seems a bit upset."
Richard gently ruffled her hair, trying to comfort her.
"She's got a good heart, just a little cranky because she's pregnant," he said.
"You went out of your way to visit her. She should be glad you did."
Emily smiled and nodded.
Out on the balcony, I watered the flowers, not even bothering to look their way.
"I brought back the soup you wanted," Richard said. "It's just a bowl of soup. Come on, is it really that big a deal? Don't bring up divorce over something so small."
"It's a bit cold, let me warm it up for you," he added.
Once Richard headed into the kitchen, Emily shuffled over to me, looking nervous and apologetic.
"Grace, I know you're still mad about earlier, but please don't blame Mr. Grant, okay? Honestly, the fact that he hasn't walked away from you, even with everything going on, just proves how much he loves you," she said.
"Emily," I let out a cold laugh. "Drop the act. You must be over the moon knowing I'm divorcing Richard."
"But let me tell you, people who can only lurk in the shadows will never step into the spotlight," I added.
Emily clenched her fists, her face going pale and then flushed.
Footsteps came from the kitchen.
Suddenly, Emily dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes red and brimming with tears, her hands gripping me tightly.
"Grace, just blame me, okay? I'm begging you, forgive me.
"Mr. Grant loves you. I really don't want to see you two fight because of me. Please, don't get a divorce, okay?" she pleaded.
Her manicured nails clamped down on my wrist, digging in painfully as she refused to let go.
I hissed from the pain and jerked my hand free.
Suddenly, Emily let out a shrill scream and toppled backward, her head crashing hard against the wall.
"Emily!" Richard shouted, the bowl still unsteady in his hands. He rushed over and helped her up.
The porcelain bowl, along with the soup, dropped to the floor with a crisp, ringing sound.
Emily clutched her forehead, shaking her head as she choked back tears.
"I'm fine, really. As long as Grace is happy, that's all that matters," she said.
Richard glared at me, his voice full of anger.
"Grace, you're really out of line. Emily came here just to check on you, and you treat her like this?
"Say you're sorry to her. Right now."
I stared at him in silence, like I was seeing this man for the very first time.
If he'd cared about me even a little, how could he have missed the scratches from her nails digging into my wrist?
"Why should I?" I shot back, glaring at him.
"She started it..." I tried to explain.
"I said!" Richard cut me off, enunciating every word, "Apologize to her."
The air went dead silent, and we just stood there, locked in a standoff.
"And what if I don't?" I shot back.
"You really don't want to know what happens next," he said, his eyes narrowing as he let out a cold snort.