Chapter 4

Evelyn Clark POV

The car door slammed shut in urgent impatience.

Soon, the car began to shake rhythmically.

I stood in the darkness for a long time. I didn’t know how I walked back inside.

It wasn’t until I stood in front of the dining table that I finally came back to myself. The entire table of food had gone cold.

It looked greasy and disgusting.

I sat down in the chair and stared blankly at that table of food.

Tears fell without warning, more and more of them.

But as I cried, I started laughing.

The way Adrian looked now was honestly even more excited than when he first won me over.

Then what was there left for me to miss?

I picked up the dishes on the table and dumped them all into the trash without the slightest hesitation.

The dining table was wiped clean.

I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and opened the car’s companion app.

The dashcam’s live feed appeared on the screen.

The car was still parked in the same place.

In the footage, two figures tangled in the back seat, clothes in disarray.

Lily Sullivan’s seductive voice came through.

“Adrian, slower. It’s so deep…”

The man didn’t slow down. Instead, he thrust harder.

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy… Daddy!”

“Say it filthier.”

His voice was low. “You’re so filthy.”

Lily played along, crying out, her panting coming clearly through my phone.

A moment later, Lily’s voice drifted over, coy and teasing.

“You’ve been gone so long. Aren’t you afraid your wife will find out?”

“Shut up!”

The man’s voice suddenly sank, obviously impatient.

“Just take it. Don’t mention her!”

I stared at the screen as a violent wave of nausea surged up from my stomach.

I rushed into the bathroom, bent over, and threw up.

My stomach churned until there was nothing left, tears and snot smearing all over my face.

I turned on the faucet and buried my face in the cold water.

After a long while, I straightened, stared at my pale, wretched face in the mirror, and took a deep breath.

I picked up my phone again and saved that video.

Then I walked into the walk-in closet, dragged a suitcase down from the rack, and started packing.

A few pieces of everyday clothing, toiletries, important documents.

The suitcase was packed quickly.

As for the remaining clothes, designer bags, and jewelry, I found several large cardboard boxes and packed them away one by one.

Tomorrow, I would donate all of it.

Anything Adrian had given me—I didn’t want to keep a single piece.

As I was packing, the sound of the front door opening came from downstairs.

I glanced at my phone. Four hours had passed.

Adrian was finally back.

He came upstairs and entered the bedroom. When he saw the packed boxes on the floor, his steps paused.

“Why are you packing?”

There was panic in his voice that he couldn’t hide.

“The season’s changing.”

I didn’t look up and kept folding clothes. “I’m putting away the things I don’t wear often.”

Adrian stood there, his gaze lingering on my face, scrutinizing me carefully.

He didn’t see anything unusual. He walked over, hugged me from behind, took the clothes from my hands, and put them back on the hanger.

“Stop packing. Throw it all out. We’ll buy new ones.”

I didn’t follow his strength. I gently pushed him.

“Go take a shower.”

I turned my head, avoiding his approaching face.

“You smell like sweat.”

Adrian’s body stiffened.

He had indeed sweated all over in the car. Now it clung to his shirt, giving off a sour, fishy smell.

He let go and walked toward the bathroom without saying another word.

I sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the sound of running water from the bathroom.

Adrian’s phone lit up.

I glanced at the screen.

It was a photo from Lily Sullivan.

Along with a line of text: [Good night, baby. Make sure I’m in your dreams.]

I withdrew my gaze and picked up my own phone.

Sure enough, Lily Sullivan had updated her WeChat Moments.

Still visible only to me.

The latest post was a close-up photo of an astronomically expensive necklace.

Limited edition, Tiffany’s main piece for the latest season, entirely rose gold, with a pear-shaped pink diamond as the main stone.

That necklace—I had seen it in a magazine half a year ago, before it had officially launched. I’d said I liked it. Adrian had said at the time, once it’s released, I’ll be the first to buy it for you.

The caption on the photo was: [Even though the old witch poured coffee on me, I got compensation from someone, so I’ll forgive him!]

I took a screenshot of the post and saved it.

Lily Sullivan probably thought making those WeChat Moments visible only to me was a form of torture, a silent display of bragging and provocation.

She didn’t know that those posts had long since become solid evidence in my hands.

When a mistress doesn’t know how to keep a low profile, it’s the stupidest thing in the world.

The sound of the shower stopped.

I put down my phone and lay back on the bed.

Adrian came out of the bathroom and lay down beside me, his arm naturally reaching around my waist.

Every hair on my body stood on end.

Without showing it, I shifted slightly toward the edge of the bed, avoiding his hand.

Adrian didn’t move closer.

He had already eaten his fill earlier. This intimacy now was only out of habit. There was no other intention behind it.

But that tiny movement of mine still made him sense that something was off.

“Evelyn, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I closed my eyes, my tone calm.

“Tomorrow is the day we go to your grandfather’s estate. Did you forget?”

Adrian answered with a soft sound, and his panic faded a little.

So I was unhappy because we had to go back to the estate.

Then he could relax.

His parents had passed away early, and only Malcolm Ashford was left at the estate.

Malcolm Ashford was arrogant and looked down on me. Openly and secretly, he had given me who knew how many cold faces.

Adrian had slammed the table in front of Malcolm Ashford several times before he finally restrained himself somewhat.

But that restraint was only on the surface. His contempt for me had never truly disappeared.

In order not to put Adrian in a difficult position between us, every time we went back to the estate, I forced myself to keep my spirits up. Afterward, I would come home depressed for days.

Adrian leaned closer, his lips near my ear.

“Don’t be scared. Tomorrow, I’ll stay by your side the whole time. I won’t let Grandpa make things hard for you.”

I didn’t answer. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Adrian also closed his eyes in relief.

Early the next morning, Adrian went to the company.

I had a moving company haul away all the boxes of packed clothes. Not a single piece was left behind. Everything was donated to charity.

After that, I called a secondhand luxury reseller to come over.

The packed boxes in the walk-in closet were carried downstairs one after another.

Those bags, that jewelry, the things I had once liked or the things Adrian had forced on me, were all turned into a long string of numbers on my phone screen.

Before the reseller left, they sighed with emotion that Mrs. Ashford was truly generous.

I looked at the number on my phone screen, a number I couldn’t spend in this lifetime, and the tightness in my chest loosened slightly.

Then I booked a flight to Italy three days later.

The booking platform’s callback came quickly.

“Hello, please confirm the passenger information.”

“Confirmed. I booked the ticket myself.”

“What ticket?”

At some point, Adrian had come back. He asked anxiously.

“Where are you going?”