Chapter 281

Chapter 281

I couldn't help but laugh: "Alright, alright, I'm not some old-fashioned prude. You two are good together, really."

Emily was silent for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her voice was more serious: "Grace, we're not together yet. We just both drank too much last night, he took me home, I didn't let him leave, and then well, things happened."

"But we agreed, we're both adults, it was mutual, no need to overthink it, and no one needs to be responsible for anyone. I don't want him to feel responsible, and he doesn't need to feel burdened."

"You don't need to explain all this to me," I softened my voice. "Emily, whatever happens between you two, whether you're starting something serious or just treating it as a one-night thing, I respect your choice."

"You're both the most important people to me. I just want you both to be well and happy. Everything else doesn't matter."

"Grace..." Emily's voice choked up a bit. "Thank you."

"Okay, stop being so mushy. I'm driving, gotta go, rest well." I hung up with a smile.

The call with Emily lightened my mood a bit more.

The car slowly pulled into Galaxy Bay Residence.

I parked in front of that familiar house.

I pushed open the car door and had just steadied myself when my eyes were drawn to a small figure sitting on the steps.

It was Jack.

He was wearing a little suit jacket, hugging his knees, sitting on the steps in front of the entrance, his small face turned toward the street, as though he were waiting for someone

Hearing the sound of the car turning off, he instinctively looked up.

When he saw clearly that it was me getting out of the car, the vague expectation and obedience on his face instantly vanished without a trace.

In its place was undisguised disgust and hostility, and his little face tensed up.

"Bad woman!" Jack stood up from the steps, pointing at my nose, his voice childish but full of malice and smugness. "What are you doing here?"

He took two steps forward, blocking the steps, trying to stop me from going in.

"Dad already bought this house!" He lifted his little face, announcing loudly as if it were some great victory. "It's ours now! You can't kick us out anymore! You're the one who has no right to come in!"

I looked coldly at this child who had been completely corrupted by Sarah.

In such a short time, his hostility toward me had escalated from initial grievance and defiance to naked hatred and aggression.

Sarah's brainwashing and George's indulgence had certainly left their mark

I had no interest in arguing with a brainwashed child.

I came here with only one purpose.

"Where's George?" I asked directly, my voice flat.

Jack stiffened his neck, not wanting to tell me, his eyes wary and fierce as he glared at me.

Just then, the entrance door opened from inside.

It was Linda, the Smith family's old housekeeper.

When she saw me, her face showed a respectful but somewhat complicated expression. She bowed slightly:

"Mrs. Smith, you're here. Mr. Smith is waiting for you in the study. He asked me to come out and bring you in."

Being called by that long-forgotten title dazed me for a moment

Then a sharp sense of irony welled up in my heart.

George and I would soon have no legal relationship at all.

I nodded without saying anything, and stepped forward to follow Linda inside, going around Jack.

Seeing Linda's respectful attitude toward me and that she was going to take me in, Jack suddenly panicked.

He quickly stepped back, blocking the space between Linda and me, and skillfully pressed his children's phone watch a few times, then shouted into it:

"Mom! Mom! The bad woman is here! Dad's letting her in! Come quick! Come kick the bad woman out!"

My steps stopped, and the expression on my face gradually turned completely cold.

Sarah appeared quickly. She came hurrying from a side path of the villa, her face showing smugness.

Seeing me standing at the door, she walked even faster and blocked my way.

"Grace," she lifted her chin slightly, showing a victor's smile. "I told you, this house would be mine sooner or later. Look, now you still have to come obediently to sign, don't you?"

Looking at her, I felt no anger in my heart, only finding it ridiculous and somewhat pathetic.

"Sarah," I spoke calmly, meeting her smug gaze, my voice clear and emotionless. "You're wrong."

The smile on Sarah's face froze.

"This house," I paused, saying word by word, "is something I don't want. I think it's dirty, so I want to get rid of this garbage as soon as possible."

The smugness on Sarah's face shattered instantly, replaced by a flash of humiliation and rage.

She widened her eyes, her chest heaving violently, her finger almost poking my nose: "Grace! You..."

"Ms. Brown, Mr. Smith is asking you to go upstairs." Linda interrupted timely, also cutting off Sarah's impending harsh words.

Sarah's breath caught in her chest, her face flushed red. She glared at me hatefully, then looked at the expressionless Linda. Finally, she could only hold it in and step aside, though the venom in her eyes was almost tangible.

I didn't look at her again and followed Linda straight upstairs.

George was in the study on the second floor.

It was still the same here—the huge solid wood desk, floor-to-ceiling bookcases, dark leather sofa, the air filled with a faint mix of cigar and old book paper smell.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting alternating light and shadow on the floor.

George sat behind the desk.

Today he wore a light gray cashmere sweater, no tie, looking less cold and hard than usual, more casually domestic.

But the distant, indifferent aura around him hadn't diminished at all.

Seeing me enter, he lifted his eyes, his gaze lingering on my face for a moment without expression, then he just used his chin to point at a document already placed on the desk opposite him.

"Sit. Sign."

Brief and to the point, as always.

I sat down across from him.

The document was a pre-drafted house sale contract with clear terms, and the amount prominently filled in with that doubled figure.

George's name was already signed.

I didn't look further, picked up the pen, and at the designated lines, I carefully signed my name stroke by stroke.

I wrote quickly and steadily.

Without a trace of hesitation or nostalgia.

From this moment on, this house was completely unrelated to me.

That doubled sum of money would soon arrive in my account.

And the people here, the memories here, would all be completely buried.

Putting down the pen, I picked up my copy of the contract, put it in the document folder, stood up, and prepared to leave.

"Do you regret it?"

George's voice suddenly sounded behind me.

Not loud, even somewhat low, but in the quiet study, it was exceptionally clear.

My turning motion stopped. I turned back and looked at him.

George remained in his chair, motionless

He lifted his head slightly, his gaze falling on my face. In those unfathomably deep eyes, some emotion seemed to be slowly flowing, yet covered by thick ice, unclear.

"Regret what?" I asked back, my tone calm.

George looked at me, silent for a few seconds before slowly speaking, his voice devoid of emotion, as if stating a possible fact:

"Regret marrying me, or regret divorcing me."

He paused, his gaze seeming to deepen, his speech slowing, each word carrying a certain weight:

"As long as you say you regret it, I'll remarry you."

Remarry?

This word, like a cold pebble, dropped into the frozen depths of my heart without stirring a single ripple

I only found it laughable.

I looked at George and pulled the corner of my mouth into a cold smile:

"George, I don't regret marrying you."

His eyebrow moved almost imperceptibly.

"And I don't regret divorcing you even more."

I took half a step forward, closer to the desk, looking straight at him, saying word by word, clearly:

"Otherwise, how would I have the chance to see clearly just how selfish, cold, and biased a person can be?"

"You have your beloved woman. You can go ahead and please her, protect her, use your money and power to pave every path for her."

"I also have my own path to walk. On that path, there's no you, no Sarah, none of these disgusting schemes and entanglements. I think that's great."

I picked up the document folder and gave George one last look. In that gaze, there was no hate, no resentment, only complete understanding and resolute detachment.

"I hope from now on, there will be no more connections between us. In a few days, when the cooling-off period is over and I get the divorce agreement, we'll be complete strangers."

With that, I didn't look at him again. I turned, opened the door, and walked straight out.

"You're happy to become strangers with me?"

George's voice came from behind again.

This time, there seemed to be an extremely subtle fluctuation in his tone.