Chapter 3

When I walked out of the hotel, Sebastian's car was parked at the curb.

Sienna sat in the passenger seat, smiling and saying something to him.

When she saw me, her smile faded a little.

"Julia, you take the front seat. I'll walk home."

Violet's voice came from the back seat.

"Julia, why don't you sit back here with me?"

Ivy nodded along. "We can squeeze in."

Sienna fumbled with her seatbelt, but she couldn't get it undone.

"Don't move."

Sebastian buckled her back in, then turned to look at me.

"Get a cab home."

"Sienna's used to the front seat, and Vi and Ivy are used to riding with me."

I clenched my fists but said nothing.

A second later, Sebastian hit the gas and drove off, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust.

I took a cab back to the marital home and pulled open the drawer in the master bedroom.

Inside lay an overseas assignment contract from a multinational company.

The signature line was still blank.

This time I didn't hesitate. I signed my name.

Just then, my mother called from back home in the countryside.

"Julia, are the wedding plans going smoothly?"

I looked at the wedding decorations on the wall that no one had taken down yet and fought back the sting in my nose.

"Everything with the wedding is fine, Mom. Don't worry about me."

I hung up.

At some point, Sebastian had come to stand in the study doorway.

The certainty in his eyes that I would never leave him had grown even stronger.

"Sienna's celebrating her birthday here tomorrow, so she's staying with us tonight."

I shook my head without thinking.

"This is our marital home."

Sebastian's voice was soft, but it left no room for refusal.

"She's not a stranger. The guest room is just sitting empty anyway."

Then the housekeeper knocked on the door, her tone respectful.

"Sir, Miss Scott's herbal tonic is ready."

The blood drained from my whole body.

Two years ago, my mother's migraines kept her up all night, and her medicine called for a wild herbal tonic root.

I took out all my savings and asked Sebastian to check with his business friends for me.

It was the first time I had ever begged him for anything.

All I got was one offhand line:

"That's someone's family heirloom. I can't throw away my reputation begging for some useless thing on your behalf."

My mother's illness has dragged on ever since.

For me, Sebastian was powerless.

But one mention from Sienna that she wasn't sleeping well, and he could trade on his reputation for an herbal tonic that cost a fortune.

Sebastian unzipped a suitcase and hung Sienna's clothes in the closet.

Through the gap in the door, I saw him open the cabinet and take out a pillow.

My chest felt like someone had struck it hard with something blunt.

I drew in a sharp, bitter breath.

The pillowcase on that pillow was one my mother had sewn for me by hand, staying up late into the night.

But now Sebastian had casually given it to Sienna to use.

When she met my eyes,

Sienna lowered her head and put on an innocent look.

"Sebastian gave me the pillow. He said I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Julia, if you mind, I'll give it back to you right now."

I laughed.

"Good. Give me back my reception dress while you're at it."

Sienna bit her lip and bent down to pick up the pillow from the bed.

Her hand had barely touched it.

Then she let out a soft cry. "Sebastian, there are needles in the pillow..."

Sebastian's body moved faster than his reason, and he rushed straight over.

He was in such a hurry that his shoulder slammed hard into me.

My lower back hit the doorframe, and the pain made me gasp.

But a few steps away, Sebastian was cradling the woman's palm, his face full of tenderness.

"Where did it stick you?"

He went into the master bedroom, dug out rubbing alcohol and iodine, and dabbed them on her fingertip, where no wound was even visible.

Only after making sure Sienna was all right did he look up at me with deep suspicion and disgust.

"Julia, did you do this on purpose?"

With that, he tore the pillow open down the middle, and cotton scattered across the floor.

A few needles fell out, tangled in the stuffing.

"Apologize."

He grabbed my wrist, his grip hard.

"You hurt her like this. Is an apology too much to ask?"

I looked at the hand gripping my wrist.

This hand used to ruffle my hair and gently pat my back when I had nightmares.

Now, this hand was forcing me to bow my head to his new lover.

After a long silence,

under his warning glare, I spoke, my voice hoarse:

"Miss Scott, I'm sorry."

Then I fled, humiliated.

Back in the master bedroom, I took out my phone.

When the flight page popped up, my hands were steady.

A flight the day after tomorrow. One way.