Chapter 3
Calvin stared at me. "Just because of something Mike said?"
I looked at him. "It's not only because of what he said."
That was the last straw.
It was the moment I finally realized how much this family had been badmouthing me behind my back.
Calvin didn't take the divorce seriously.
He even chuckled. "Sylvie, you're pregnant and emotional. I'm not going to hold it against you."
I nodded. "Then let's talk when I'm more stable."
He thought that was the end of it.
The next morning, he tossed his shirt into the laundry basket as usual.
"Iron the blue one for me this afternoon. I have a dinner party tonight," he said.
I was brushing my teeth at the sink.
"Iron it yourself," I said.
He froze. "What?"
I spat out the mouthwash.
"I said, iron it yourself," I repeated.
Calvin frowned. "Sylvie, don't take it out on everything around you."
I looked at him in the mirror.
"The shirt's yours, the dinner's yours, and the image is yours, so why am I the one stuck dealing with it?" I shot back.
His face darkened. "You stay home all day, and you can't do this one thing?"
I put my toothbrush back in the cup.
"I'm at home, but not your personal assistant," I said.
He stared at me for a while.
Then he smirked, "Fine, you win."
After that day, the house quickly fell into chaos.
Calvin was scrambling for his socks.
Aurora forgot to bring Mike his water bottle.
Mike's online class started with no one setting up his gear. The teacher kept calling his name, but his microphone stayed muted.
No one wondered who filled the water bottle, paired up the socks, or got the equipment ready for class.
They assumed the house would always run smoothly.
At 7:40 PM, Mike called out to me from his room, "Mom, my Moretorian class is about to start."
I walked over to the door.
"I'm not sitting with you today," I said.
He froze. "Why?"
"You'll have to handle it yourself from now on," I said.
"I can't do it by myself," Mike protested.
I said, "You can even curse in Moretorian.
"It looks like you're pretty good at it."
His face turned red.
"I don't want to do it by myself. The teacher said I needed a parent with me," Mike protested.
"Then ask your dad to sit with you," I replied.
Mike opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
He knew his dad wouldn't sit with him.
Calvin was busy.
Aurora didn't speak any foreign languages.
I was the only one in the house who could sit through his class from start to finish.
When he slacked off, I was more anxious than he was.
I'd message the teacher, take notes, record the sessions, and go over his mistakes for him.
All he had to do was sit there and wait for me to spoon-feed him everything he needed.
But I stopped doing that for him.
Mike panicked. "Mom, I swear I won't say anything mean about you anymore. Will you sit with me for class, please?"
I looked at him. "Saying sorry doesn't mean you get me to do things for you."
He didn't understand what I was saying.
But he got that I wasn't going to sit with him.
That night, the teacher called me.
"Mrs. Dawson, Mike wasn't really himself in class today," the teacher said.
I said, "From now on, please reach out to Mike's father about his studies."
Five minutes later, Calvin's phone rang.
He was in the study, in the middle of a video call.
I heard him mutter in a low voice, "For anything about Mike's studies, talk to his mom."
Whatever the teacher said, I couldn't make it out.
Calvin shot me a look.
I was sitting on the couch, taking slow sips of water.
He hung up, sounding pissed.
He snapped, "Sylvie, you really gotta drag Mike into this?"
"Mike is your son, too," I replied.
"Weren't you always the one dealing with his school stuff?" Calvin shot back.
"So I was wrong before," I said.
Calvin scoffed, half laughing in disbelief. "Now you decide to drop it like that?"
I set my glass down. "Yeah."
He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
Maybe in his eyes, I wasn't supposed to agree.
I was supposed to explain, act upset, and say I didn't mean it like that.
But I didn't want to explain anymore.
On the third day, Caroline sent me a friend request.
Her request said, [Sylvie, I think there might be some misunderstanding between us.]
I accepted it.
She quickly sent me a long message. [Sylvie, Mr. Dawson's got very busy at work, so he chats with me sometimes.
[I respect you, and I wish I could stay home and rest, focus on my pregnancy like you. Not like us regular workers, who have to put up with everyone's moods every day.]
I stared at her "rest and focus on your pregnancy" line and laughed.
She sent another message. [Mike is cute. He likes the little gifts I give him. If it bothers you, I'll stop.]
I replied, [I don't mind. If you want to give him gifts, go for it.
[Feel free to give him whatever you like: snacks, toys, storybooks, even pay for his after-school classes.
[Mike needs someone to help with his studies, and since you're so attentive, maybe you can take over.]
She was typing for ages.
Finally, she sent: [Sylvie, you've got it all wrong.]
I didn't reply.
I took a screenshot and saved it.
Then I called my lawyer.
Her name was Zoe Jackson, recommended by a former client.
After I finished explaining, she asked, "When did you buy the house?"
"Three years after we got married," I replied.
"Where did the down payment come from?" she asked.
"Calvin's company dividends, plus my pre-marital savings of 70 thousand dollars," I said.
"What about the company?" she asked.
I replied, "It was set up after we got married. Calvin owns 70%, and his cousin owns 30%."
Zoe quickly got to the point. "Does his cousin run the company?"
"No," I replied.
"When was the share transferred?" she asked.
"Last year," I replied.
"Do you have any proof?" she asked.