Chapter 4

I couldn't hide the tension coiling through me. "I'm worried about your child," I said, my voice tight. "If she lost the baby because of the shock, could you really stand by that?"

James' face darkened. He didn't let go. He reached for me again, insistent.

"Even if it were hers, I'd still take care of it. Forget it. Just pretend I didn't say anything."

I struggled, tears spilling down my cheeks, and then I slapped him across the face.

A sharp red mark bloomed on his pale cheek. His hand trembled with anger.

"Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth. "You asked for this."

"Then be generous all the way. I guess you don't need to stay in the guest room anymore."

The next morning, James dismissed all the household staff. He moved me into the maid's quarters.

From then on, he forced me to cook and wash for both him and Amelia. He made me study nutrition and prepare meals down to the last detail.

At night, I was stationed just outside the master bedroom. I could hear him comforting Amelia until she fell asleep.

It felt as though he was daring me, trying to turn me back into the person who would lose herself in hysteria just for him.

But I only grew calmer. I even folded their clothes neatly and handed them over with both hands. "Do you need anything else washed?" I asked, voice steady.

James' moods swung wildly, yet he could find no real fault in me.

On Christmas Eve, I stood before the table Amelia had prepared for the family feast. A small, amused smile escaped me.

For the first time, I felt a flicker of anticipation.

The dinner was attended by the core members of the Foster family. Amelia, in a revealing outfit, drew some disapproving attention. James' uncle, Robert, let out a quiet, sharp laugh.

"James," he said, his tone casual but pointed, "the woman you brought tonight seems different."

"She's young, but she's got her ways," Robert added, grinning at James.

James glanced at me, his expression calm yet sharp, his smile thin and cold.

"What do you mean by different?" he asked lightly.

"Evelyn was only eighteen when she climbed into my bed, were you unaware?" James said, and the room erupted in laughter.

Countless mocking stares landed on me. A few of the younger relatives even started to jeer out loud.

One of them called out, "Evelyn, why don't you teach us how you managed to hook James?"

Another added, "James' side pieces all look exactly like you. You're really something!"

Eleanor's face tightened with displeasure, and she cut them off. "That's enough. Stop wasting your breath on someone who does not belong at this table."

She went on, "Amelia is carrying a child now, so she has done the Foster family a great service."

Even though I had already steeled myself to leave, my face still burned with shame.

I had thought James' feelings for me had simply cooled. I never expected him to drag out my most humiliating secrets in public just to protect Amelia.

I pushed down the sour ache and the rising anger inside my chest. Then I walked over and sat down quietly in the lower seat beside Amelia.

She looked at me with open triumph and challenge in her eyes. At the same time, she sent a betting link to my phone.

The first message read, "After the family banquet ends tonight, the entire Foster family will have no choice but to accept me."

The second one followed right after, "How about a little wager? Tonight, will James stay with you or with me?"

I kept my expression calm and bet every last bit of my private assets. "All right," I replied. "I accept the bet."

The waiters filed into the room one after another, carrying dish after dish. Yet Eleanor's face, which had been glowing with joy over her new grandson, grew darker with every passing minute.

When the final dish was placed on the table, the usually graceful Eleanor suddenly slammed her hand down hard. She turned and glared straight at me.

"James!" she snapped. "Is your wife dead? How could you let this happen?"

Every eye in the room fixed on me. I rose slowly to my feet, pulled out the divorce agreement that had just taken effect, and held it up.

"I am not James' wife anymore," I said. "You are scolding the wrong person."