Chapter 2

When I woke the next morning, Isaac was already gone.

The other side of the bed was empty, without a trace of warmth.

Fine by me.

I dragged my suitcase downstairs. In the living room, my mother-in-law, Brooklyn James, sat straight-backed on the sofa.

Her well-kept face was covered in frost.

"Stop right there."

I halted.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Her voice was cold.

"Mom, I'm divorcing Isaac."

I stated the fact calmly.

Brooklyn looked as if she'd heard the biggest joke in the world.

She set down the pale porcelain teacup in her hand with a sharp clink.

"Divorce? Stella, do you even know what you're saying?"

"Isaac had one dinner with a female client, and you make a scene like this? You go carrying on about divorce like your life depends on it?"

"Have you got any sense at all? A man entertains clients out there, a little playacting, that's perfectly normal, isn't it?"

"You're the daughter-in-law of the Sanchez family. Instead of easing his burdens, you're here dragging him down. What does that look like?"

Her words were exactly the same as the words she'd used to scold me in my past life, the first time I ever fought with Isaac over Hilda Summers.

Back then, I'd cried from the unfairness of it, explaining myself as hard as I could.

Now, I only found it noisy.

"Mom, this isn't playacting."

"This is a problem between him and me."

My composure clearly only made her angrier.

"What problem between you and him? What has Isaac ever done to wrong you? He gave you the title of Mrs. Sanchez, gave you a life without a single worry, and you're still not satisfied?"

"Stella, let me tell you something. The door of the Sanchez family isn't one you walk in and out of whenever you please!"

"If you still recognize me as your mother, you'll put that suitcase right back where it came from, take a lunch to Isaac at his office, and apologize to him. Then we'll let this whole thing pass."

Apologize?

For what?

Why should I apologize for his mistakes?

"I'm not going."

I refused flatly.

"And this divorce is happening. That's final."

Brooklyn shot to her feet, shaking all over with rage.

She jabbed a finger at me.

"You... you ungrateful little thing!"

"Who do you think you are? Away from the Sanchez family, you, Stella Henson, are nothing!"

"Believe me, all it takes is one word from me, and that shaky Henson family of yours will go bankrupt overnight!"

This again.

Using my family to threaten me.

In my past life, this was exactly why I compromised, why I backed down, over and over.

Until the Hensons were safe and sound, and I was the one trapped to death in this cage.

I looked at her, and said it word by word.

"Then go ahead and try."

Brooklyn froze.

She probably never imagined that I, always so meek, could say something like that.

"You... you dare talk to me that way?"

"I'm only stating the facts."

I gripped the handle of my suitcase.

"The title of Mrs. Sanchez, whoever wants it can have it. As for the Hensons, that's my business, and no trouble of yours."

With that, I didn't look at her again. I walked straight for the door.

"Rebellion! This is outright rebellion!"

Brooklyn's shriek rose behind me.

"Stella, if you dare step out that door today, don't ever think about coming back!"

My hand rested on the door handle, pausing for a second.

Then, without hesitation, I pulled it open.

The sunlight was blinding.

I squinted, dragging my suitcase, and walked out one step at a time.

I never looked back.

With the little cash I had on me, I rented a small studio in the city.

Small, old, but clean.

I set out the things from my suitcase one by one, looking at this little space that belonged only to me, and felt steadier than I ever had.

That afternoon, I got a call from my mother.

The moment it connected, her anxious voice came through.

"Stella, what on earth happened between you and Isaac? Mrs. Sanchez called me and said you two are talking about divorce. Child, how can you be so foolish!"

I leaned against the wall, looking out the window.

"Mom, I'm not being foolish. I'm perfectly clear-headed."

"Clear-headed? Being clear-headed means throwing away your own home? Do you know what kind of family the Sanchezes are, what a rare catch Isaac is? Marrying into that family is your good fortune! Why can't you learn to treasure it?"

Good fortune?

Guarding a man who doesn't love me, burning through my whole life for him, that's good fortune?

"Mom, my good fortune, I'll earn myself."

"Did you... did you hear some gossip out there? Is it that woman by Isaac's side, the one called Hilda Summers..."

My mother's words stopped short.

My heart sank.

"Mom, you know about her?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"Stella, listen to your mother. Men, well, who doesn't have a past. That Miss Summers... she's in poor health, and it's only human nature for Isaac to look after her a little more. You're the one who's Mrs. Sanchez, the legitimate wife. Show a little grace, and don't stoop to squabbling with people like that."

Legitimate wife?

I gave a bitter laugh.

In my past life, Isaac's dying wish was to be buried together with that unclear, questionable woman.

And I, the legitimate Mrs. Sanchez, wasn't even fit to sleep beside him in death.

"Mom, I don't want to live that kind of life anymore."

"I'm hanging up."

Giving my mother no chance to keep talking me around, I hung up on the spot.

The phone rang again soon after.

This time, it was Isaac.

I looked at the name flashing on the screen and put it straight on silent.

The world went quiet.