Chapter 4
I stood in the restroom for ten minutes.
I wiped the water from my face, pulled open the door, and stepped out.
I nearly collided with someone.
It wasn't Olivia.
It was an old man in a gray suit, probably in his sixties, with most of his hair gone white. He stood by the wall in the corridor, watching me.
To be precise, he wasn't looking at my face.
He was staring at the emerald pendant hanging around my neck.
I had worn that emerald pendant for over twenty years. It had been with me for as long as I could remember.
The lady at the orphanage had said it was wrapped in my swaddling clothes the day I was brought in.
The old man kept his eyes fixed on the pendant, his lips moving like he wanted to say something.
Just then, someone called out from behind him, "Mr. Foster, this way, please."
He was ushered away.
He took a couple of steps, then glanced back at me. His expression was peculiar; it was not appraisal, nor was it curiosity.
It was as if he recognized something about me, but couldn't quite place it.
I didn't have time to dwell on it.
"Emily." Olivia's voice came from the hall.
Behind her was a woman with short hair named Maggie Quinn, dressed in a designer suit and sky-high heels, clearly someone who lived for these kinds of parties.
"So this is the one who used to be with Mr. Grant?" Maggie tilted her head, giving me a slow once-over. "Pretty enough, but age's not on her side."
Olivia didn't stop her, standing there with her head down, smirking quietly.
"Heard you were stuck holding Olivia's dress all night?" Maggie said.
She pulled a wet wipe from her bag and handed it to me. "You've worked hard. Your hands are dirty, right? Wipe them off."
I didn't take it.
She pulled it back and shook her head dramatically. "Seriously, don't kid yourself. Olivia's twenty, got flawless skin and a killer figure.
"Sure, her family's nothing special, but she's got the skills to make Mr. Grant totally obsessed with her. And you? You're pushing thirty, haven't accomplished a thing, can't get married, and you still have the guts to hang around here."
"Maggie, enough." Olivia tugged at her sleeve, trying to hold her back.
But Maggie wasn't letting up. "If I were you, I'd have grabbed the cash and gotten out of here ages ago.
"Mrs. Grant's one million dollars would set you up for life. Why hang around and let everyone make a joke out of you?"
It turned out that she knew about the one million dollars too.
How many people at this party were laughing at me?
Olivia finally spoke up, her voice soft and full of apology. "Emily, Maggie's being blunt. Don't take it to heart. Honestly, I've been wanting to have a real talk with you for a while."
She took a step closer. "I know you're upset. If I were in your shoes, I'd be hurt too."
She reached out and gently touched my arm. "But Charles has already made his choice. If you keep staying here, it's tough for both him and me."
I looked at her.
Her eyes were gentle, and she wore a soft, practiced smile.
My dress shimmered on her, and the ruby set that once graced my neck now hung from her ears, swaying gently from side to side.
"Emily, you're a good person. You'll definitely find someone better." Olivia let out a quiet sigh and turned to walk away.
Maggie followed behind, and as she passed me, she muttered under her breath. "Don't drag your feet. Sign the divorce papers before next week."