Chapter 105
Josephine's gaze swept over Lorelei's swollen belly before moving away. Her voice remained flat, stating facts. "I'm here for my things."
"Your things?" Lorelei shot to her feet, hostility blazing in her eyes. "Fine, take them. But I'm watching you. If anything goes missing, I won't be able to explain it."
Josephine ignored her and headed straight upstairs.
Pushing open the bedroom door, she made directly for the closet.
The right side hung neatly with clothes she'd left behind. The left held Gideon's—men's suits and shirts arranged intimately alongside women's dresses.
She took one glance, then dragged a twenty-inch suitcase from the bottom of the closet and began packing.
She took only clothes from before her marriage to Gideon, plus the gratitude gift her mother had given her at the wedding—a bracelet. Age had left a fine crack along its edge, but she still treasured it. She wrapped it carefully in velvet cloth and placed it in the suitcase.
As for the jewelry, designer bags, and most of the clothes... she didn't spare them a glance. These were merely decorations from the past seven years. Not truly hers.
Lorelei leaned against the doorframe, watching, tone casual. "Ms. Kennedy's being generous—leaving behind so many nice things?"
Though born into wealth herself, those items were extremely valuable. She couldn't help feeling envious.
Those accessories were definitely bought by Gideon. After marriage, Josephine became a housewife—where would she get money for such things?
Josephine looked up at the nightstand. A photo sat there from their honeymoon on a foreign island. Last year, after David pressured them about having children, she and Gideon had fought. She'd accidentally broken it.
Josephine had painstakingly pieced it back together with tape, but a crack still ran through the middle of the photo. Now it looked like foreshadowing.
Josephine picked up the photograph.
In it, she clutched Gideon's arm, her smile bright enough to make her eyes curve into crescents. Back then, she'd thought she'd smile like that forever.
She set the photo back down.
"I don't want it."
Lorelei's eyes lit up. She pulled out her phone to text the renovation crew. "Perfect timing. I've already contacted a design company. They're coming at the end of the month to redesign everything, clear out all this old stuff. What if Gideon sees these things and gets all sentimental? How miserable would that make him?"
Josephine couldn't be bothered with her. She rummaged through the drawer for that blue-covered journal.
Dense handwriting filled it—she'd started writing on their wedding day, documenting every detail of these seven years.
But the moment she placed it in the suitcase, she pulled it back out.
By the final pages, her handwriting had grown messy, recording only disappointment and struggle. What was the point of keeping these words?
She ultimately returned the journal to the drawer.
"Hurry up and leave. Stop dragging this out." Lorelei pressed. "The workers are coming soon. I'll help dispose of all your useless junk. Promise I'll erase every trace of you."
Josephine closed the suitcase and wheeled it downstairs.
In the living room, a woman in her fifties poked her head out from the kitchen. Seeing Josephine, complex emotions flickered across her features.
Mila had worked for the Getty family for over a decade, watching Gideon grow up and witnessing this home transform from two people's warmth into three people's awkwardness.
"Mrs. Getty..." Mila spoke softly.
"What's Mrs. Getty'?" The title grated on Lorelei's ears. She frowned immediately. "Mila, you've got it wrong. There's no Mrs. Getty here anymore. And even if there were, it wouldn't be her."
Mila lowered her head and retreated silently into the kitchen.
Just as Josephine reached the entryway, two small cargo trucks pulled up outside. Several workers in blue uniforms climbed out and began unloading tools.
A middle-aged man in a suit entered, addressing Lorelei respectfully. "Ms. Kelly, we're from the renovation company. You said to start demolition today?"
"Right." Lorelei pointed upstairs. "Start with the master bedroom. Old furniture, decorations—replace everything. Rip off the wallpaper, too. I don't like that color."
Josephine stood at the door, glancing back at the living room.
She'd personally selected that crystal chandelier. She and Gideon had bought that oil painting together abroad. She'd won that celadon vase at an auction, originally intending to present it at David's birthday banquet. But after she'd been humiliated at Getty Manor that day, Gideon had brought it back home.
He'd coaxed her then: "Forget giving it away. Let's keep the good stuff for ourselves."
Lorelei watched her linger, voice mocking. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts?"
At that moment, Mila emerged from the kitchen carrying garbage bags, though her eyes kept darting toward her phone.
Lorelei didn't notice, continuing to address the renovation crew. "Replace the bedroom furniture, too. I don't like using things other people have used..."
Her words cut off as an ice-cold voice came from the doorway:
"Who gave you permission to enter?" Gideon stood at the entrance, suit jacket draped over his arm, white shirt collar unbuttoned. He'd arrived in a rush—his breathing still rapid—but his expression was terrifyingly dark.
Lorelei froze. Why had he come back?
But the next second, she'd plastered on a sweet smile, hurrying to him with small steps.
"You're back. Ms. Kennedy said she didn't want these things anymore. I thought the place looked so empty, so I arranged for renovations..."
Gideon completely ignored her, his gaze landing on the suitcase beside Josephine. "Where are you going?"
Josephine didn't answer.
Gideon looked at the workers, voice low but carrying undeniable authority. "Get out."
The workers exchanged glances, looking to Lorelei.
Lorelei immediately protested. "Gideon, they—"
"I said, get out," Gideon repeated, his gaze cold enough to freeze.
The workers hastily set down their things and filed out one by one.
Only three people remained in the living room.
Lorelei felt publicly humiliated, aggrieved, and resentful. "Gideon, I just wanted to redecorate. To help improve your mood..."
Gideon's dark gaze swept the living room.
The oil painting on the wall—Josephine's favorite Monet reproduction—had been taken down by workers and leaned crookedly against the wall. Their photos lay carelessly piled on the floor.
Even her white coffee mug, the one she used most often, had been moved from its usual spot.
Something shifted in Gideon's eyes.
Josephine really was erasing every trace of herself. Even these objects carrying seven years of memories—she could discard them. If these physical reminders disappeared too, then would she truly...
"Josephine." He turned to her, voice tight. "You're throwing everything away?"
"What I don't need just takes up space." Josephine's tone was indifferent.
"Don't need..." Gideon repeated the words, then suddenly stepped forward and opened the suitcase she'd set on the floor.
Josephine couldn't stop him. She simply watched coldly as he searched through it.
Gideon rummaged frantically for a moment, then suddenly stopped. A diamond ring slipped through his fingers, refracting harsh light under the chandelier.
Their wedding ring.
"Even this..." Gideon's voice came out barely above a whisper, as if asking himself. "You don't want this either?"