Chapter 3
"Silverwood Manor? Those houses aren't cheap. Where did you get the money?" Mom asked, sounding suspicious.
"Branson gave me a breakup settlement," I replied.
"Guess he's not totally heartless," Mom snorted, then added, "No, I still worry about you being alone. I'll come over tomorrow to keep you company!"
"Okay," I answered with a smile.
After hanging up, I felt a warm glow in my heart.
This was what it felt like to have my family in my corner.
No matter what choices I made, they would always be my rock.
Meanwhile, in the Dalton household, the atmosphere had dropped to freezing.
Micheal placed the signed divorce agreement on Branson's desk, his face clouded with mixed emotions.
"Mr. Dalton, Mrs. Dalton... Ms. Stephenson has signed the agreement," Micheal said.
Meanwhile, Branson was overseas, caught up in a crucial international meeting, and his assistant was holding onto his phone for him.
That assistant, of course, was someone Isabel Simpson had put in place.
Isabel had grown up with Branson, always bragging that she understood him better than anyone. In the elite circles, she was basically known as the "future Mrs. Dalton."
A year ago, Branson shocked everyone by announcing he was marrying me—a total nobody. People's jaws practically hit the floor.
Isabel, especially, considered me nothing but a thorn in her side.
She was convinced I'd stolen what was meant for her.
Over the past year, she'd been constantly scheming against me, both openly and behind the scenes.
She had Emilie and Paloma wrapped around her finger, always nitpicking and criticizing me for anything and everything.
This time, while Branson was overseas, she swiped his phone and took it upon herself to send me that divorce message.
She was sure Branson was already sick of me, and even more certain I'd cry and make a scene, refusing to let go of the Mrs. Dalton title.
When the time came, she'd slip into the role of Branson's perfect soulmate, say a few sweet words in front of him, showing off how gracious she was, all while making Branson dislike me even more.
Two birds, one stone.
Her scheme was practically perfect.
Too bad she miscalculated one thing.
I never gave a damn about being Mrs. Dalton.
One of the Dalton family's maids nervously reported to Emilie, "M-Mrs. Dalton, Bryanna... she's gone."
"Gone?" Emilie, who was in the middle of a facial mask, slowly sat up. "Good riddance. She was never fit for our family anyway.
"Did she really think she could cling to the Dalton family forever? Did she clear out all her things?"
"Y-yes, everything's gone," the maid stammered. "Bryanna only took one suitcase—the one she came with. All the jewelry you and Mr. Dalton gave her, and even the card from Mr. Dalton... she left it all behind."
Emilie paused mid-motion, then yanked off her facial mask in shock. "What?"
Emilie rushed into my room, the one she always insisted was just the 'guest room.'
In the walk-in closet, the jewelry she and Branson had given me to uphold the Dalton family's image, pieces I had never worn even once, lay neatly arranged in their velvet boxes.
On the vanity, Branson's unlimited black card sat untouched, with a note placed right underneath it.
I wrote: [The PIN is your birthday. I never touched it.]
The handwriting was crisp and refined, just like me.
Emilie picked up the card, her face shifting between pale and flushed.
She'd always thought I married into the Dalton family just for the money.
She was always on guard, watching me like a hawk, terrified I'd take even a penny more than I was supposed to.
But now, I left with nothing, not even a single thing they'd gifted me, not a penny. I didn't touch any of their so-called "rewards."
That slap landed hard, and everyone felt it.
"Unbelievable! She's out of line! What's her game? Who's she trying to impress?" Emilie yelled, throwing the card onto the floor in frustration.
Paloma rushed in, smirking. "Mom, why bother worrying about her? Isn't it better now that she's gone? Now Branson and Isabel can finally be together! Isabel just called and said she's coming over for dinner tonight!"
At the mention of Isabel, Emilie's expression finally softened.
"Isabel is always so thoughtful," Emilie said, smoothing her hair and resuming her usual lofty demeanor. "Go tell the kitchen to make a few of Isabel's favorite dishes for dinner."
When Isabel arrived, she was practically glowing with triumph.
She was dressed in a custom-made Chanel suit, sitting gracefully beside Emilie, listening to Emilie and Paloma badmouthing me, a self-satisfied, victorious smile tugging at her lips.
"Mrs. Dalton, Paloma, you really shouldn't be so harsh on Bryanna," Isabel said, putting on her best sympathetic act. "She was with Branson for a whole year, after all. I'm sure it's not easy for her to leave."
"What's there for her to be upset about?" Paloma scoffed. "Branson gave her 30 million dollars! She's probably out there living it up right now!"
Isabel's hand faltered for a moment as she raised her teacup.
30 million dollars?
She never mentioned anything about money in her text.