Chapter 121
"What are you talking about?"
I didn't expect George to follow me.
When he saw I didn't answer, he walked over to Milly and me, his tone unreadable, "What nonsense are you telling the child?"
The anger in my chest hadn't subsided. I let out a cold laugh, "Am I talking nonsense? George, aren't you doing something wrong?"
I thought he was playing dumb on purpose, or maybe trying to maintain his ridiculous good-guy image by coming over to accuse me of corrupting the child.
I was even prepared to keep arguing, to spell out again the logic that after divorce, we each live our own lives.
But unexpectedly, George frowned slightly and said, "Adult matters shouldn't involve the child."
He automatically filtered out the word "divorce," or rather, he didn't care at all whether I was explaining our post-divorce situation to Milly.
What he cared about was simply that I might have said something unfavorable about him in front of Milly.
I was so angry I had to laugh.
We couldn't even find common ground to argue. I was so exhausted that even anger seemed pointless.
I didn't want to argue with him anymore, and I didn't want Milly to stay in this suffocating atmosphere any longer.
I took Milly's hand again and said flatly, "Mr. Smith is overthinking. I was just telling Milly that things that don't belong to us shouldn't be forced, and we need to learn to protect ourselves. This is something both adults and children should understand."
With that, I stopped looking at him and turned to walk back with Milly.
When we returned to the area near the display case, Sarah and Terry were nowhere to be seen. They'd probably taken Jack somewhere else to broaden his horizons.
Only Atticus was still standing there, with Gemma beside him. The embarrassment hadn't completely faded from their faces.
Seeing me return, Atticus walked over first and said in a low voice, "Ms. Brown, I just called my grandfather again and briefly explained the situation here. After hearing it, Grandpa said he won't sell this dress for now."
I was slightly stunned, looking at him with some surprise.
Atticus continued, "Grandpa said that objects have spirits and value fate. If external factors prevent it from going to someone who truly treasures it, he'd rather keep it for now. So, Ms. Brown, I'll take this dress back with me. If Grandpa decides to sell it later, or has other arrangements, I'll contact you."
As he spoke, he took out his phone, opened the add contact interface, and looked at me sincerely.
I didn't expect Atticus to offer to add my contact information.
We weren't really that familiar.
In my memory, the only time we formally met was at a business dinner several years ago.
George hadn't taken me there voluntarily either—he got drunk, and Steven called me to pick him up.
That night it was pouring rain. I stood like a fool at the entrance of the club's magnificent doors, holding an umbrella and waiting.
It was Atticus who helped the unsteady George out.
When he learned I was Mrs. Smith, his face was full of surprise.
I'll never forget that expression.
I suppose in his view, the legendary Mrs. Smith, even if not cherished by her husband, should at least maintain a surface glamour and dignity, not be like a driver or nanny who comes when called, waiting awkwardly at the door on a rainy late night.
At that moment, all my dignity was washed away by that rain and Atticus's complicated look.
Now, times had changed.
I was no longer that Grace who would just wait foolishly, devoted to maintaining a broken marriage.
And Atticus seemed not entirely the bystander who could only respond with awkward silence back then.
I took out my phone and added him as a friend, "Thank you."
Atticus nodded slightly and said nothing more.
I nodded to Gemma again, then took Milly's hand and left the exhibition hall without looking back.
I got in the car, closed the door, and temporarily shut out all the noise and unpleasantness from outside.
I leaned back in my seat and let out a long breath, as if trying to expel all the stale air accumulated in my chest.
Milly sat quietly in her car seat, playing with her fingers, not disturbing me.
My phone vibrated. It was a message from Gemma: [Grace, don't take today's incident to heart. Some people just have foul mouths and low class. Just treat them like air. Don't be too upset. About that dress, since Mr. Mason Morgan said he won't sell it for now, maybe there's still hope.]
After a few seconds' pause, another message popped up: [Oh, after you left, Mr. Smith specifically came over to ask Atticus and me where you went. We said you'd left. That Terry was still making snide remarks nearby. Don't pay attention to people like that.]
Looking at the words on the screen, I felt no emotion, even found it a bit ridiculous.
George asked where I went?
Did his conscience finally appear for one second?
Or did he simply want to know if this troublemaker had completely disappeared, so I wouldn't affect his and Sarah's refined mood anymore?
Either way, it was meaningless.
I tapped on the screen and replied to Gemma: [Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I'm fine. I won't bother with those people. They're not worth it. Thank you for today.]
I put down my phone, started the car, and drove out of the parking lot.
At noon, Emily and I met at a casual restaurant near the office that we often went to.
While waiting for our food, I couldn't help but briefly tell Emily what happened at the heritage exhibition that morning.
After hearing it, Emily slammed her hand on the table in anger, drawing looks from nearby tables.
She didn't care about those looks and hissed through gritted teeth, "What kind of people are they? How can they spread such nonsense and pollute the environment? That Terry—did she just wake up without brushing her teeth? And George, has his brain been cursed by that woman Sarah? That's your grandfather's keepsake! And he can snatch it to please his mistress?"
Hearing Emily's angry rant, I couldn't help but smile slightly, "Yeah, very polluting. You're absolutely right."
I stirred the coffee in front of me, my tone carrying a resigned helplessness, "But there's no way around it. George loves taking Sarah to these elegant places to show off his taste and wealth. If I go, or happen to be there, I can't avoid running into them. I just have to deal with the disgust."
"I'm just so angry." Emily's chest was still heaving. "That shameless Sarah—how many times has she shown off their relationship on Instagram? And she keeps saying they're just friends. What kind of friends are they?"
"Can 'just friends' have a son as big as Jack? I really want to expose this right now and let everyone see the true faces of this pair of scumbags!"
She sighed dejectedly and looked at me, "But I'm also afraid that if we expose it rashly, that bastard George will definitely use every means to suppress the news, or even twist the truth. Then all the dirty water might be thrown on you, saying you're making up rumors because you're bitter about the divorce, which would put you in an even worse position."
I nodded. Emily's concerns were exactly what I was worried about.
George's power and Sarah's cunning weren't things we could confront head-on.
I couldn't afford a public opinion war, and I couldn't afford to lose.
"So, let's leave it for now." I said softly, as if speaking to Emily and to myself. "As long as the divorce goes through smoothly and I get the divorce papers, I'll be much more relaxed. At least legally, I'll have nothing to do with him anymore. However high-profile they want to be, whatever they want to fight over, it'll have nothing to do with us."
"Right, divorce is the key." Emily nodded vigorously, as if she'd found a direction to work toward.
She changed the subject, "Okay, let's not talk about these stomach-turning things. Let's talk about something happy."
She leaned closer to me, her tone excited, "William told me this morning that the Aviation Administration gave very positive feedback on the optimization module your team submitted last time. The formal letter of intent has been sent over and they're about to go through the contract process."
"Grace, your name will be officially listed as a core R&D personnel in the cooperation agreement this time."
I was stunned, hardly daring to believe it, "Really?"
"Of course it's real." Emily's face was full of pride. "Would I lie to you? William's legal team has already started reviewing the contract. Oh, and he said after lunch, I should go back and organize the relevant technical materials and team qualification certificates again. There's a meeting tomorrow morning. Grace, you should also prepare talking points about the technical highlights and project advantages. You might need to speak at tomorrow's meeting."
I smiled and said, "Okay, I'll prepare when I get back."
Emily propped her chin on her hands, looking at me with eyes full of amazement and confusion, "Grace, honestly, I've always wanted to ask you—is your brain built differently from us ordinary people? How can you be so brilliant? How long has it been since you left the Smith family and started working? And you can already write core code that even the Aviation Administration recognizes? How much talent were you hiding all this time?"