Chapter 222
Finally, Joshua spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but carrying a decisive force, "Grace."
My heart jumped, and I instinctively straightened my back.
"I'll give you one more chance."
My eyes widened instantly, incredible joy surging through me before I could even react.
Then I heard Joshua continue in a heavy voice, each word hit my heart like a hammer, "But listen carefully—if you ever again throw away your future for a man, act like you're dying over him, give up halfway through—"
He paused, his gaze sharp as a knife, "We're done. Teacher and student, finished. From that moment on, we'll have nothing to do with each other!"
These words were extremely heavy, like the strictest military order.
But hearing them, I felt no grievance or fear—only overwhelming relief and bittersweet tears welling up in my eyes.
I knew that Mr. Thomas saying such harsh words meant that he still cared, still willing to give this lost student a way back.
Tears rolled down without warning. I nodded hard, my voice choked but incredibly firm, "Mr. Thomas, don't worry! I swear, never again! It will never happen again!"
William chimed in cheerfully from the side, "Right, right, Mr. Thomas, don't worry, she definitely won't. She's even divorced now. We set off fireworks to celebrate a few days ago—completely free!"
Joshua's serious expression clearly froze for a moment when he heard about the divorce.
He looked at me, his eyes carrying a trace of inquiry and surprise, "You really got divorced?"
I wiped away my tears, sniffled, and nodded firmly, "Yes, divorced. Just finished the paperwork, waiting for the cooling-off period to end."
The tight lines on Joshua's face finally relaxed completely.
He didn't ask more questions, just picked up the tea Gwyneth had just poured, raised his cup toward me, and a smile returned to his face—faint, but genuine, "Then we should celebrate."
The rest of dinner became unprecedentedly relaxed and comfortable.
Gwyneth made a whole table full of dishes, and Joshua rarely opened up, chatting with us about many past stories.
About the jokes I made in the lab back then, about William's awkwardness the first time he came over for dinner, about the hardships and passion of doing research in their era.
I listened, laughed, occasionally adding a few words, my heart filled with warmth.
By the time it got late and I stood to leave, I still felt reluctant to go.
On the drive back, neon lights flowed colorfully outside the car window.
I remembered promising Milly I'd bring her mixed nuts from her favorite dried fruit store at the mall today.
Turning the steering wheel, I headed toward the nearest large shopping center.
After parking and just unbuckling my seatbelt, my phone screen on the passenger seat suddenly lit up.
A text message.
From a number I hadn't saved but found vaguely familiar.
[Where are you?]
Brief words, not even a punctuation mark, yet carrying George's characteristic tone that brooked no argument.
My good mood instantly clouded over.
He changed his number again?
Is this ever going to end?
Frowning, I didn't reply, just locked the screen, tossed my phone back in my bag, and got out of the car.
Just a few steps out, my phone vibrated again in my bag, this time with a ringtone that sounded especially harsh in the empty underground parking garage.
I stopped, took a deep breath, feeling irritation shooting straight to my head.
What does this person want?
After divorce, shouldn't we part ways and never contact each other again?
He ignored me for six years before, and now it's like some weird switch got flipped—he's a hundred times more annoying than before!
Looks like George won't stop until I make things crystal clear.
I took out my phone, looked at the unfamiliar number flashing on the screen, bit my lip, and pressed answer.
The other end was very quiet.
I spoke coldly, my tone icy, "George, will you ever stop? We..."
Before I could finish, George's somewhat slurred voice interrupted me from the other end, "Grace, come pick me up."
Hearing George's matter-of-fact words, I almost laughed from anger.
The cold air of the underground parking garage entering my lungs couldn't suppress the fire rising inside me.
"Mr. Smith," I said into the phone, my voice cold as ice, "did you forget we're divorced? Legally still in the cooling-off period, but as far as I'm concerned, we have nothing to do with each other anymore."
"Are you still treating me like a 24/7 on-call servant?"
The other end was silent for a few seconds, then George's voice came again, the drunkenness seeming to fade a bit, but that condescending coldness and calculation remained, "No, Grandma is at the Old Smith Mansion now. I told her I was having dinner with you tonight."
"You come back with me, so we can keep up appearances."
Keep up appearances?
I was truly about to laugh from anger at George's shameless logic.
To maintain that ridiculous facade of harmony in front of Grandma, for his own face, he could just order me around and make me continue playing along in his act?
Why should I?
"George, you..."
Before I could finish my refusal, he seemed to predict my response and added unhurriedly, his voice not loud but like a poisoned ice pick, precisely piercing my defenses, "Don't forget the agreement we signed."
My breathing stopped abruptly, all the curses and mockery that had rushed to my lips instantly frozen in my throat.
That divorce agreement.
Why does there have to be a thirty-day cooling-off period?
This damned rule had now become the reins George could use to control me at any time!
During these thirty days, legally, we were still married.
He could completely use this to make all kinds of demands on me under various high-sounding reasons, even torment me.
And he was indeed doing exactly that.
Yesterday's call, today's call—both like this.
If I wanted Milly's custody, I had to cooperate as much as possible during these thirty days.
I thought signing the papers meant seeing the light, but I was still trapped in his hands, hadn't gained real freedom.
Still had to cooperate with him in front of Violet, acting out a loving couple's performance.
This was more unbearable than killing me. Enormous humiliation and helplessness surged over me like a tide, almost drowning me.
I gripped my phone tightly, nails digging deep into my palm, the pain barely keeping me somewhat calm.
No, I can't just give up like this.
At least, I can't let him and Sarah have their way so easily.
I took a deep breath, suppressed the metallic taste in my throat, and tried to make my voice sound calm, "I'll call Grandma and tell her my mom isn't feeling well, that Milly and I are at my mom's taking care of her. You can go back by yourself, or—"
I deliberately paused, my voice carrying undisguised mockery, "Let Sarah take you back. Isn't she living at the Smith Villa? Makes perfect sense. Grandma might be even more 'delighted.'"
I thought throwing out this option would make George agree readily, even happily hang up.
Having Sarah take him—wouldn't that be exactly what they both wanted, and save them from having me in the way?
However, what came from the other end wasn't George's voice.
"Ms. Brown..."
It was Sarah.
She was indeed right there with George.
Looks like this call wasn't just George's idea from the start.
Sarah's voice was very soft, carrying a hint of helpless pleading, "Grandma has always liked you, not me. George is just worried that if I take him back, it'll make Grandma unhappy and put me in a difficult position, so he wanted to trouble you to give us a ride. Please, okay?"
Us?
Only then did I suddenly understand.
The real purpose of George's call wasn't about keeping up appearances in front of Grandma at all.
He just wanted Sarah to ride in his car too, to go back to the Old Smith Mansion together.
But Sarah knew clearly about Violet's dislike and rejection of her. Having her directly take George back would be like showing up to provoke, definitely angering Violet.
So they thought of using me as a shield.
Have me drive, take him and Sarah back together.
In Grandma's eyes, it would be me, the thoughtful granddaughter-in-law, picking up my drunk husband and kindly giving his friend Sarah a ride along the way.
This way they could fulfill George and Sarah's wish to be together, avoid Sarah directly facing Violet's anger, and even create an illusion in front of Grandma.
Killing three birds with one stone.
What a brilliant plan.