Chapter 5
"But if I bring up divorce, he'll turn on me. He's got money, lawyers, and connections. I've got nothing," Maeve said.
"So—" Rudy said.
"So I'm just going to wait for him to be the one to ask for it," Maeve said, turning to face him. "Or even better, wait until he's the one begging me to sign."
"Then I'll have all the leverage," she added.
Rudy leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Ms. Norman, you're a lot calmer than I expected."
Maeve stood up and gathered the documents.
"Ms. Mills, there's one thing I need to confirm," she said.
"Go ahead," Rudy replied.
"If we agree to a divorce and he later wants to remarry, can he legally force me to do it?" Maeve asked.
"No. Remarriage requires both parties to agree," Rudy said.
Maeve nodded. "That's all I needed to know."
So, when Victor showed up with the divorce papers that night, he thought he could pull one over on Maeve.
He thought she was still that helpless little woman who depended on him for everything.
He thought she'd cry, make a scene, and beg him not to leave.
But Maeve signed the papers quietly.
She had been waiting for this moment for two whole years.'
*****
The first month after the divorce, Maeve moved into Violet Hill Villa.
It was a detached villa with a garden. The gardener came by once a week to take care of the lawn and the wall of roses.
Victor set her up with a driver and a housekeeper, probably because he thought she'd struggle living alone.
Maeve let the driver go. She kept the housekeeper. Honestly, she needed someone for the cooking and cleaning.
Every morning at seven, Maeve would leave home and hop on the subway to work.
The villa was far from the city, and it took forty minutes to drive. Subway plus bus: fifty minutes. But she would rather stand and wander all the way than take the car arranged by Victor.
To her, that car was like a leash. Getting in meant she was still tethered to him.
At work, nobody knew Maeve was divorced. To her coworkers, she was just a regular translation supervisor. She was thirty, married, with a husband who did business, though nobody really knew what kind.
Maeve never brought it up.
*****
Three months after the divorce, Victor came by once.
It was a weekend afternoon. Maeve was in the study, sorting through some papers, when the doorbell rang. The housekeeper answered it.
"Ms. Norman, Mr. Boyle is here," the housekeeper called out.
Maeve paused, her pen hovering in midair.
She stepped out of the study.
Victor was standing in the middle of the living room, wearing a black coat and holding two bags. One was a cake from that dessert place she always went to. The other was a luxury brand purse.
"Just came by to see you," he said, his tone easy, like he was stopping by the neighbor's place.
Maeve leaned against the doorframe of the study, not bothering to get any closer.
"Is there something you need?" she asked.
"Can't I drop by to see you?" Victor replied.
Maeve didn't say anything.
Victor set the bags on the coffee table and glanced around. Maeve had transformed the villa with art prints and shelves full of books, making it feel warm and inviting compared to its former sterile look.
"You've really made this place your own," Victor said.
"Yeah," Maeve replied.
"Are you used to living alone?"
"Yeah."
Victor was quiet for a couple of seconds. Then he sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to him.
"Sit down, I need to talk to you," he said.
Maeve didn't sit where he indicated. Instead, she walked over to the armchair across from him, sat down with her legs together, and folded her hands in her lap.
Victor's eyes darkened for a moment.
He said, "Kayla's due date got moved up. She'll probably have the baby next month."
"Why are you telling me this?" Maeve asked.
"What I mean is, once the baby's born, and she's officially registered, after all the formalities are done, we can—"
"Get back together?"
"Yeah."
Maeve stared at him, her eyes steady and unflinching.
Victor, usually so composed, actually looked a little uneasy under her gaze. He fidgeted, shifting in his seat and rolling his shoulders.
"I know these past few years haven't been easy for you. Once we're back together, I'll make it up to you. Whatever you want, name it," he said.
Maeve lowered her head, staring at her hands folded in her lap.
She had to fight the urge to laugh. 'Compensation?'
Coming from Victor, it was like he was flipping a coin to a beggar.
"No need for compensation," Maeve said, lifting her head and giving him a faint, almost mocking smile. "Three years, right? I'll wait."
Victor's frown relaxed.
"Alright. Three years, tops," he said.
He stood up, walked over to her, and bent down.
This time, Maeve did not flinch. His lips brushed her forehead, soft and light, lingering for a few seconds.
"I'm heading out. Kayla's got a prenatal checkup," he said.
Maeve gave a quiet nod.
She watched his figure disappear through the door.
Once the car engine faded into the distance, the housekeeper poked her head out from the kitchen. "Ms. Norman, should I put the cake in the fridge?"
"Throw it away," Maeve said.
The housekeeper paused, a little taken aback.
"The purse too," Maeve added.
"Ms. Norman?" The housekeeper was a bit uncertain.
Maeve stood up and headed for the study. As she passed the coffee table, she glanced at the purse.
It was a limited edition from a big-name brand, which went for over 30 thousand dollars.
She remembered Kayla had shown off the exact same bag on social media just last month.
Victor probably bought two. One for Kayla and one to try to shut Maeve up.
Maeve walked into the study and closed the door behind her.