Chapter 1

My husband, James Carter, had finished his military service. I took his official documents to claim the 100-thousand-dollar benefit.

But the clerk told me, "According to our records, you and Mr. Carter were divorced a month ago."

I was stunned. How could I not know I was divorced?

Just then, a call came in from an unknown number.

A syrupy voice chirped, "Lily, I've already grabbed James's benefits. You don't need to worry about him anymore. Oh, and could you keep taking care of his dad for a few more days? Once we're settled, we'll come pick him up."

I trembled all over with rage.

So James had played me for a fool, using me as a free live-in caretaker, huh?

I turned around, went home, bundled up James' paralyzed father and dumped him at the doorstep of that woman's villa.

*****

I called a MoveIt Logistics truck.

The driver leaned out, his eyes full of questions.

Without a word, I walked into the bedroom that reeked of disinfectant.

On the bed lay James's father, John, who'd been paralyzed for three years.

With a blank face, I changed him into clean clothes. My movements were mechanical, like a routine I had run countless times.

I rolled the wheelchair over to the bed and strained to shift him from the mattress into the seat.

His body felt heavy, carrying the distinct odor of someone confined to bed long-term.

He mumbled incoherently, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. "G-Going to the park?"

He probably thought this was another rehab stroll.

"J-James has made something of himself," he muttered.

A faint glimmer flickered in his clouded eyes, and that was the only reward I got for five years of devotion.

My heart turned cold as steel, and an absurd laugh bubbled up inside me.

Made something of himself? What a joke.

I stuffed all of John's daily essentials—medicine kit, spare clothes, incontinence pads—into one huge woven sack.

The MoveIt driver gave me a hand, and together we lifted John, wheelchair and all, into the back of the truck.

"Miss, what are you..." The driver hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more but held back.

I handed him an address, my voice cold as ice. "Take us there."

The truck started up, rattling as it pulled out of the old neighborhood I'd called home for five years.

Wind rushed in through the open window, messing up my hair.

I stared at the street scenes flying by outside, my mind completely blank.

I was married to James for five years, and all those years, I worked as a live-in maid.

I waited on his paralyzed father, lived frugally, and sent him money, hoping he would come home after his military discharge.

And all I got in return was a "You're divorced" and a taunting call from his mistress.

My chest felt tight, like someone had stuffed a wet cotton ball in there.

The truck pulled up at the entrance of a fancy villa community.

The tall iron gate and security guards in crisp uniforms all felt completely alien to me.

The guard stopped the truck. "This is a private residential area. No trucks allowed."

I got out of the passenger seat and looked at him calmly. "I'm here to drop something off for someone."

I pulled out my phone and dialed the number that had just called me.

The call connected quickly, and that syrupy voice came through again. "Hello, Lily? Is there something else?"

I put the call on speaker and held the phone out to the guard.

"John is here at the gate," I said. "Get out here right now and take him.

"Or I'll leave him here so everyone can see what kind of 'good son' James is."

A scream came from the other end, followed by frantic swearing. "Lily, are you out of your mind?"

I hung up and stared coldly into the depths of the villa community.

Less than three minutes later, a woman in pink silk pajamas and slippers stormed out, fuming.

Her hair was softly curled, her makeup flawless, and I could smell her perfume even from a distance.

It was Victoria White.

She rushed to the gate. The moment she saw John sitting in the truck, her face went sheet-white.

She glared at me, her eyes practically spitting fire. "You venomous woman, what the hell are you trying to pull?"

I looked at her, then glanced down at my faded T-shirt and jeans.

The contrast was cruel.

I was a tired, worn-out woman battered by life, while she was a pampered young lady who'd always been coddled.

"What am I trying to pull?" I echoed, finding the whole situation utterly ridiculous. "I'm returning what's yours."

Victoria trembled with fury, jabbing her finger at my face as she cursed, "How dare you! Do you believe I'll have you..."

She raised her hand, about to slap me.

My hands, rough and strong from years of housework, gripped her wrist firmly.

Victoria cried out in pain, shocked by my strength.

"I'll take back what's mine." I let go of her hand, my voice low but every word sharp as a knife. "James is your man now. You take care of his father."

Not sparing her another glance, I turned away and got into the passenger seat of the MoveIt truck.

Behind me, Victoria screamed hysterically.

John mumbled a slurred call. "Lily."

The truck slowly pulled away.

In the rearview mirror, I saw Victoria pointing at John in the wheelchair, yelling like a madwoman at the security guard.

John, whom I'd cared for three years, stared blankly after me, his drool trailing longer.

The truck turned the corner, leaving all that luxury and chaos behind.

My tears finally fell, sudden and unstoppable.

Big, heavy drops splashed onto the back of my hand.

This wasn't weakness.

This was a farewell to those five absurd, miserable years I buried today.

*****

I went back to that empty house.

The air still carried the medicinal odor from John, mixed with the faint trace of James's cigarettes.

Every corner was etched with the presence of that father and son.

I felt like an outsider.

I set to work, packing up every single one of James's belongings: his military uniform, his photos, the books he'd read, and his toothbrush.

I stuffed it all into black garbage bags, like I was cleaning up a dream that had long since decayed.

Suddenly, my phone rang, the caller ID flashing a number I could recognize in my sleep.

It was James.

I answered the call but said nothing.

"Lily, are you freaking insane? Where did you take my dad?" James roared.

I held the phone away, letting him finish his rant.

"You've got the nerve to ask me?" I said, my voice so calm it felt foreign even to my ears. "When did we get divorced? And where is the 100,000 dollars?"

Instantly, silence fell on the other end of the line.

After a few seconds, James mumbled, "Let me explain. It's not what you think. I..."

"I don't want anything else," I cut him off. "Answer me: where's the money?"

"I'll give you the money. Bring Dad back first, okay? Victoria can't handle taking care of him," he said, his voice almost pleading.

Wow, he really cared about her.

I hung up, found his number, and tossed it straight into my block list.

In an instant, my whole world went quiet.