Chapter 4
Once the party started, Mrs. Reed made sure Emily was seated right next to Jonathan.
I sat on the other side, kept my head down and focused on my food.
The dishes were all made by the Reed family's hired chef.
None of these dishes were satisfactory.
In my previous life, I'd spent hours in the kitchen just to make sure Mrs. Reed looked good in front of the relatives.
When the guests praised the food, she never once mentioned me.
Today, I didn't get involved at all.
The first relative took a bite of the fish, and their fork froze mid-air.
The second one took a sip of the soup, and their brows knitted together.
Mrs. Reed noticed something was off and called the chef over.
"What's going on? Why does this fish smell so fishy?" she demanded.
The chef nervously wiped his brow.
"Mrs. Reed, the fish was delivered this morning. It should be okay," he replied.
Emily piped up immediately.
"Maybe no one was keeping an eye on the kitchen? Wasn't Grace the one who used to be amazing in the kitchen?" she said, her voice sweet but laced with sarcasm.
With that one line, she made sure everyone's eyes were back on me.
Mrs. Reed jumped at the chance.
"Yeah, you're just sitting at home with nothing to do, and you can't even bother to check on the kitchen?" she said.
I set my fork down.
"Mom, didn't you say my cooking was too plain and not fancy enough for a party like this?" I replied.
Mrs. Reed's face went stiff.
Emily chimed in, "She's only strict with you because she expects more from you."
I turned to her.
"Since you're all about high standards, why didn't you go supervise the kitchen yourself?" I shot back.
Emily said softly, "I can't cook."
"You can't cook, but you're quick to judge," I shot back.
Someone at the table let out a snicker.
Jonathan set his glass down.
"Grace, that's enough," he said.
"Enough? Seriously? You think this is enough?" I shot back.
I plopped a piece of fish into his bowl.
"It's your mom's birthday, your chef, your guests. The food tastes awful, so why is it my fault?" I said.
Jonathan didn't even touch his fork.
I wasn't done yet.
"So in your family, if something goes wrong, it's always my fault, but if things go right, someone else gets the credit?"
The silence was deafening.
Mrs. Reed was furious.
"Jonathan, look at the way she's acting!" she snapped.
Jonathan stood up.
"Come with me," he said.
I didn't move.
"I'm not done eating yet," I said.
He reached out and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me up.
I took out my phone and pulled up the payment record.
"That 150 thousand dollars you just sent only paid for me to pretend until we got inside. If you want me to go out there and take the heat, that'll cost extra," I said.
The relatives' faces were a sight to behold.
Some of them suddenly found their soup very interesting, their spoons clinking against the bowls as they tried to act like nothing was happening.
Emily bit her lip.
"Grace, isn't it kind of messed up to talk about money between husband and wife? Doesn't that ruin things?" she said.
I shot her a look.
"So you don't talk about money, but you have no problem getting involved with someone else's husband?" I shot back.
Emily's face went pale.
Jonathan's voice dropped to a low growl.
"Grace," he said.
I slid my phone over to him.
"Are you gonna send it or what?" I asked.
Jonathan stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
In the end, he sent me 100 thousand dollars.
I put my phone away and got up, following him out into the yard.
As soon as the gate clicked shut behind us, Jonathan finally lost it.
"Grace, how long are you going to keep this up?" he snapped.
I'd heard that line way too many times.
Back in my last life, he always brushed off my pain, acting like I was just being dramatic.
I leaned against the stone table in the yard and asked, "Where were you last night?"
"I told you, I had a work dinner, got wasted, and crashed at a hotel," he replied.
"Was Emily there too?" I pressed.
"She's the project consultant," he said.
"Does a consultant really need to be all over you for a photo?" I shot back.
Jonathan went quiet.
I pulled out my old phone from my bag, opened the photo, and shoved it in front of him.
In the picture, Emily was wearing a white slip dress, practically glued to Jonathan's side.
He didn't even try to push her away.
Jonathan glanced at the photo, his tone turning impatient.
"A photo doesn't prove anything," he said.
"Then what does?" I shot back.
"Grace, I'm tired," Jonathan said.
He rubbed his temples.
"Work's at crunch time right now. I just don't have the energy to deal with all this," he said.
I scoffed.
"So you can't be bothered to explain, but you've got all the energy to shack up at a hotel?" I shot back.
"I didn't touch her," he said.
"Does it even matter if I believe you?" I shot back.
Jonathan looked at me.
"So what do you want?" he asked.
I held out my hand.
"Compensation," I said.
"I already paid you," he said.
"That was just for playing along at the birthday party. This is for the emotional trauma," I shot back.
He stared at me for a few seconds.
"Since when did you become like this?" he asked.
I replied, "Since I realized loving you isn't worth as much as loving money."
Jonathan let out a bitter laugh.
He pulled out his phone and sent me another 700,000 dollars.
"Is that enough?" he asked.
The money came through, so I nodded, dead serious.
"That's enough for tonight," I said.
He turned to leave.