Chapter 3

Vivian's POV

The next morning, when I came out of the guest room, Sean had already made breakfast.

Shrimp toast, fried eggs, and sliced fruit—all of my favorites.

The shrimp were shelled and deveined, the eggs fried sunny-side up, and the sweet corn soup had no green onions—everything was prepared strictly to my taste.

We had been married for five years, and Sean Sterling had made me breakfast for five years.

Every time he came home from work, the first thing he did was always head straight into the kitchen.

Outsiders always said that Mrs. Sterling was the happiest woman in Los Angeles.

I used to think so, too.

If he hadn't been so good to me, I wouldn't be hurting this much.

"Vivian, eat up. The toast is getting cold."

Sean smoothly pulled out a chair for me.

I sat down and quietly ate my toast.

Halfway through my toast, Sean's phone lit up.

I glanced at it. It was a message from Joy Foster:

[I took a fall, it hurts so bad...]

He took one look, quickly shut off the screen, stood up, and prepared to rush out.

"Vivian, I'm full. Take your time, I'm heading to the office first."

I pulled out the divorce agreement and stopped him.

"Wait, I have something to discuss with you."

Sean checked his watch.

"Is it really important?"

"Yes, very."

Sean's phone rang again.

Without any hesitation, he picked it up. His brow furrowed instantly, anxiety laced with deep concern.

"Don't move, I'm on my way."

Hanging up, he grabbed his coat and started heading for the door.

"Just make the decision yourself, no need to ask me. I'll go along with whatever you want."

I froze for a moment, then nodded.

"Then just sign this."

Sean took the document, signed his name without even glancing at it, and immediately turned to leave.

I hadn't expected signing the divorce papers to go so smoothly.

With his little mistress on his mind, he couldn't care less about anything else.

Who would have thought Joy Foster would actually end up helping me out at a time like this?

How ironic.

I called a local courier to send the agreement to the law firm, then messaged my lawyer.

[The agreement is signed and will be delivered shortly. How fast can we get the divorce certificate?]

The other side was silent for a moment before replying, clearly shocked once again.

"Usually it takes a month. If we go through an expedited channel, it'll take half a month."

"Expedite it."

A new notification popped up.

Joy Foster had sent a photo.

In the photo, Sean was kneeling on one knee, head lowered as he gently massaged her ankle.

The caption read:

[Mr. Sterling is so sweet. I only twisted my ankle a little.]

This kind of tenderness used to belong to me alone.

Back in our school days, the girls chasing Sean could line up from the academic building to the school gates.

But he was cold to the point of being ruthless—returning love letters on the spot and never accepting the water bottles offered to him.

When a bold girl confessed to him in public, he bypassed the crowd, walked straight to me, and took my backpack to carry on his own shoulder.

I once asked him with a smile if that was too hurtful.

"If I don't hurt them, I'll hurt you."

The old Sean had clear boundaries and considered my feelings in everything.

Now, he had probably forgotten those words long ago.

I put away my phone and went to my family's company.

After I finished handling the paperwork, my assistant, Leah Miller, hovered near the door for a long time before finally walking in.

"Ms. Vance, there's something I just can't keep to myself anymore."

"Go ahead."

"The last time Mr. Sterling brought Joy Foster here to see you, you weren't in. The two of them stayed in your office for a full two hours and even locked the door. When they came out, Joy's shirt buttons were mismatched. You... should keep a closer eye on Mr. Sterling."

My grip on my pen slowly tightened.

Joy had already flaunted this on her Moments long ago.

On my desk, in my chair... during those two hours, the two of them hadn't wasted a single second.

That chair was custom-made by Sean from Italy. He said my lower back wasn't great and that the chair would support it.

"I see. Thank you for telling me."

I smiled at my assistant.

"Get rid of my desk and chair, and replace them with a new set. You can go now."

That afternoon, I came home from work and was greeted by the aroma of food the moment I stepped inside.

For once, the sound of laughter from two people drifted out of the kitchen.

I walked over and saw Sean and Joy standing side by side in front of the stove.

One was washing vegetables while the other was chopping. They moved in perfect harmony, like a married couple who had lived together for years.

Previously, only the two of us had ever set foot in this kitchen.

Sean never allowed the housekeeper to help, saying that cooking was a private intimacy between husband and wife.

Sean looked up and saw me, a smile breaking across his face.

"Vivian, you're back? Dinner's almost ready. Wash your hands and get ready to eat."

Joy also offered a sweet smile.

"Ms. Vance, it was raining so hard today that I couldn't catch a cab. Mr. Sterling was kind enough to drive me, so I wanted to help cook dinner as a way to thank you both!"

Sean chuckled and teased her gently.

"Look at you, always so thoughtful."

I watched the two of them cook.

Sean stirred the food in the pan and said, "Pepper."

Joy immediately grabbed the pepper shaker from the spice rack with perfect precision and handed it to him.

"Honey."

She turned around and pulled the honey straight out of the fridge.

Her familiarity with our kitchen was practically greater than mine, the actual lady of the house.

My gaze landed on Joy again.

She was wearing my pajamas.

It was a matching couple's set.

When I had asked Sean to wear the men's version back then, he had laughed and refused, saying it was too childish.

Yet right now, the men's version was right there on him.

The two of them standing side by side by the stove in matching pajamas made me look like the guest instead.

Seeing that I hadn't walked away, Sean followed my gaze and offered a casual explanation.

"The rain was too heavy and her clothes got soaked. I just let her borrow yours for a bit."

On the dining table today, in addition to the light dishes I usually preferred, there were several incredibly spicy dishes.

Neither Sean nor I ate spicy food.

It was blindingly obvious who those dishes were made for.

Sean began peeling shrimp for me with practiced ease. Noticing me staring blankly at the spicy dishes, he explained.

"Joy secured a major project for the company today. Achieving that within her first year is no small feat. I thought I'd invite her over for dinner to celebrate."

Joy smiled meekly.

"It's all thanks to Mr. Sterling's guidance."

Sean gave Joy a doting look and placed the peeled shrimp in my bowl.

I kept my head down, eating the plain rice, not touching the shrimp in my bowl at all.

Since when did the CEO of Sterling Group have to personally cook to celebrate an assistant securing a deal?

Halfway through, Sean got up to go to the kitchen to fetch the soup.

The moment he left, the meek look on Joy's face vanished instantly.

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice.

"You really have quite the tolerance, Ms. Vance. After seeing so much, you can still sit here and share a table with us. You're truly generous!"

As she spoke, she unbuttoned the collar of her shirt.

Around her neck, which was covered in hickeys, hung a pigeon-blood ruby necklace.

It was part of the same set as the bracelet on my wrist, but its price was ten times higher.

"I only casually mentioned that I liked it, and Mr. Sterling gave me the very necklace you've been dreaming of."

Joy toyed with the pendant of the necklace, her eyes glittering with smug satisfaction.

"Oh, by the way, guess what Mr. Sterling and I were doing before you came home, Ms. Vance? Here's a hint: right in the kitchen!"

Before I could reply, Sean returned with the soup.

"What are you two chatting about so animatedly?"

I looked up at him.

That was when I noticed a small, inconspicuous wet patch on his pants.

It was glaringly obvious what they had just been doing.

I looked away, took off the bracelet on my wrist, placed it on the table, and feigned regret.

"Sean, I don't like this bracelet."

"I like the matching pigeon-blood ruby necklace. Didn't you pre-order it?"