Chapter 51
The morning's work came to an end, and I stood up to stretch.
Emily came over, hooked her arm through mine, and said, "Come on, come on, let's go eat. I'm starving!"
We went with a few colleagues to the casual restaurant near the office that we usually frequented.
Just as we sat down and ordered, my phone buzzed.
I swiped the screen open. It was a delivery tracking update: [Your court express mail was signed for by Mr. George himself today at 10:27 AM.]
I had thought that, given George's personality, receiving the court filing notice would at least prompt him to call and demand an explanation.
But even after we finished eating, my phone remained quiet, with no activity.
I showed my phone screen to Emily beside me and said quietly, "The court notice. He signed for it."
Emily lowered her voice, clenched her fist excitedly, and said, "That's great! They finally filed the case. Grace, when you officially get your divorce certificate, I'm definitely going to hang a banner outside the courthouse to celebrate! And I'll hire ten of the hottest male models, dressed in suits, standing in a row, congratulating Ms. Brown on regaining her single status and starting a new life. How about that?"
I couldn't help but laugh at her over-the-top scenario. "Ten is too many, way too much. Let's talk about it when I'm actually divorced."
That's what I said, but truthfully, my heart wasn't entirely calm.
Even though the evidence was solid and my determination firm, completely severing ties with George still felt like there were invisible obstacles ahead.
Fate seemed to always enjoy binding him and me tightly together, then tearing us apart viciously.
"Don't worry, it'll definitely work this time." Emily encouraged me, then added indignantly, "You've prepared all that evidence so thoroughly!"
I nodded. Yes, this time was different.
I wasn't the unprepared Grace from my past life who could only cry and beg.
From the moment I was reborn and decided to divorce, I'd been collecting every piece of useful evidence.
Sarah's every boundary-crossing, George's every act of favoritism. They all became tools to help me escape this marriage.
Emily looked at me with heartache and said, "Six years, Grace. Your best six years, wasted on that bastard. Taking care of his child with another woman for him, and even giving birth to such an adorable Milly for him."
"And what did you get? He only has eyes for Sarah. Every time I think about the wrongs you've suffered, it breaks my heart."
My nose tingled a bit, but more than that, I felt relieved.
I gently patted the back of her hand and managed a smile. "It's all in the past. I was foolish before, didn't see that he never loved me, kept holding onto unrealistic fantasies, using the child as an excuse to fool myself. Now, the dream's over, and I've woken up too."
Emily nodded vigorously. "Anyway, from now on you'll be free. Nobody can control you. Work if you want to work, date if you want to date, take Milly wherever you want to go!"
Since we still had some time left in our lunch break, Emily dragged me to a nearby massage place to relax, saying I'd been too tense lately.
The massage was indeed comfortable. When we came out, my stiff shoulders and neck felt much better.
Just as we reached the shop entrance, my phone rang.
It was an unsaved number, but I recognized it—Steven.
I frowned, hesitated for a moment, but still answered.
"Mrs. Smith," Steven's rigid voice came through, "Mr. Smith would like to see you."
"I don't want to see him." I refused directly, about to hang up.
"Mrs. Smith," Steven's voice paused, then continued, "Mr. Smith says he wants to return something to you."
Something? The pocket watch? My heart skipped a beat.
"Grace, don't go." Emily, hearing this beside me, immediately grabbed my arm, looking wary. "Who knows what tricks they're up to. Nothing good, for sure."
I knew Emily's concern was justified.
But it was the pocket watch, the only keepsake my grandfather left me. I had to get it back.
"Emily, you go back to the office first. I'll come back right after I get the item." I reassured her. "Don't worry, I'll be quick."
Emily was still worried, but I was determined.
She had no choice but to repeatedly remind me to be careful and call immediately if anything happened, then walked away, looking back every few steps.
I stood there, took a deep breath, and said into the phone, "I'm at the massage shop entrance."
"I see you, ma'am." Steven's voice came almost simultaneously from both the receiver and across the street.
I looked up and saw Steven standing on the opposite sidewalk, nodding slightly at me.
Not far behind him was that familiar black sedan, its windows tinted dark, impossible to see inside.
The light turned green.
I gripped my phone and crossed the zebra crossing.
Steven opened the rear door for me.
I bent down and saw George sitting inside.
He was leaning back against the seat in a relaxed posture, no trace of a hangover on his face.
"Where is it?" I didn't get in the car, just extended my hand and got straight to the point.
George looked up at me, his gaze calm and still.
He didn't answer immediately, but said flatly, "Get in. Let's talk."
"We have nothing to talk about." I insisted. "Give me the item, and I'll leave immediately."
George said nothing, his gaze still resting on my face, the oppressive feeling in those eyes silently spreading.
This again—using silence and presence to force people into submission.
Taking a deep breath, for the sake of the pocket watch, I finally bent down and got in.
Steven closed the car door, returned to the driver's seat, and the car smoothly merged into traffic, beginning to move slowly.
George had a scent about him...
It was the smell of the laundry detergent I used to love buying.
Back then, every time I organized his clothes, I would imagine him embracing me with this scent.
But now, the same fragrance coming from him only made me feel waves of nausea and disgust.
This smell seemed to remind me of my ridiculous past.
"Where is it?" I broke the silence, my tone stiff.
George handed me a small velvet box.
I took it and opened it.
The pocket watch lay quietly on the black velvet lining, the fine crack in the lower left corner clearly visible.
It was mine, no mistake.
I gently picked it up, the familiar cool touch reaching my fingertips, my feelings complicated.
I finally had it back.
"Stop the car." I immediately said to Steven up front.
Steven didn't slow down, but looked at George through the rearview mirror.
George's voice remained flat. "I've given you the item. Between us, is there really nothing we need to talk about?"
I looked at him mockingly and asked, "What is there left to talk about between us? Mr. Smith."
George's gaze was deep, like a bottomless pool.
His emotions had always been rarely shown, always shrouded beneath a layer of cold calm.
In my past life, it was because I couldn't see through him that I held onto pointless hope again and again, ultimately ending up in that situation.
If he were someone easy to read, Milly and I might not have come to that end.
"What you do outside, I don't care." George began, his voice still detached. "But when you return to the Old Smith Mansion, in front of Grandma, I hope you can fulfill your duties as Mrs. Smith and not worry the old lady."