Chapter 139
On the way, William seemed to still be savoring Milly's earlier gesture, saying with a smile, "That kid Milly is getting more and more adorable—so thoughtful and caring. Just looking at her makes my heart melt."
I nodded with a smile, "Yeah, she's my little angel."
William suddenly turned to look at me, half-joking, half-serious as he asked, "Grace, what do you think about me becoming Milly's godfather?"
William's words surprised me a bit, but more than that, they warmed my heart.
The fact that he liked Milly and wanted to become her godfather showed his recognition and closeness to both me and Milly.
I smiled and gave the choice back to the most important person, "You should ask Milly about this, not me. If she's willing to call you godfather, I certainly have no objection."
William paused, then laughed and patted his forehead, "Right, you're absolutely right. I wasn't thinking straight. We need to respect our little princess's wishes. I'll find a chance to ask her properly next time."
When we arrived, Atticus's assistant was already there to greet us—a well-dressed young woman with a professional smile.
She warmly ushered us inside.
The Morgan Group headquarters was located in a stylishly designed office building in the city center. The interior was decorated in a simple, modern style, yet everywhere showed artistic touches—very much in line with the Morgan family's style.
The assistant led us through the open office area toward the meeting room.
However, as we passed through an open space that looked like a break area or small exhibition hall, my steps barely perceptibly paused.
What a small world. Or rather, like a ghost that won't go away.
Not far away, a group of people were gathered together, chatting and laughing in a relaxed atmosphere.
At the center of the group were George and Sarah.
George was wearing an impeccably tailored dark blue casual suit today, no tie, less formal and more casually refined.
Sarah wore a pink suit dress, her makeup flawless, her smile radiant, intimately holding George's arm with her whole body practically pressed against him.
The two looked natural, talking and laughing, while the people around them wore flattering and ingratiating smiles, surrounding them as if casually shopping at a mall or engaged in some kind of informal business socializing.
Our appearance clearly caught the attention of some people over there.
George seemed to sense something and turned his gaze toward me. That look was still his usual coldness, detachment, like looking at an insignificant stranger, even with a hint of displeasure at being disturbed. It lingered for no more than two seconds before moving away without any attachment, returning to Sarah's smiling face beside him, as if I were just an insignificant pixel in the background.
Sarah naturally saw me too. The smile on her face didn't diminish; instead, it grew brighter. Holding George's arm, she walked over gracefully, as naturally as if running into an old friend.
"Ms. Brown, what a coincidence seeing you here." Sarah's voice was soft, with just the right amount of surprise.
She came closer and raised her hand to brush her hair by her ear.
This gesture made the pair of diamond earrings on her earlobes, sparkling with fine light, even more clearly visible before my eyes.
My gaze fell on her earrings, and I froze slightly.
I recognized those earrings. They were a classic limited edition from a top international jewelry brand, with a simple yet extremely refined design, set with top-grade diamonds in terms of color and cut.
A few years ago, I had seen them in a brand catalog and really liked them. I had carefully mentioned them to George once, saying I thought those earrings were beautiful. At the time, George was looking at financial news on his tablet. When he heard me, he didn't even lift his eyelids, just said flatly, "They don't suit you."
One casual sentence shattered my faint hope and girlish thoughts to pieces.
He said they didn't suit me.
Now it seemed he was right.
I wasn't suited for those expensive earrings, wasn't suited to stand by his side, wasn't suited to enter his heart, and even less suited to become the Mrs. Smith he acknowledged.
What great irony.
Since I wasn't suited for anything, why did he agree to marry me under Violet's pressure in the first place? Just to find a fool he could manipulate at will, use to deal with elders, and conveniently serve as a stepping stone for his beloved?
My heart felt like it had been brutally chiseled by a cold, blunt instrument—a dull ache, but more than that, a numb sense of absurdity.
I ignored Sarah's fake pleasantries and didn't even bother to look at her smug face.
I said quietly to William, "Let's go."
Just as we were about to turn around, a fashionably dressed middle-aged woman in the watching crowd suddenly spoke up, her tone full of envy and flattery, "Ms. Wilson, that handmade craft you showed the child on your phone just now was so beautiful—so delicate and creative."
"My son's kindergarten is also doing a parent-child craft project recently, and I've been worried about not having any inspiration. Could I take a photo? I'll have someone make one just like it when I get back—it's sure to win a prize."
My steps halted.
Handmade craft?
What kind of decent handcraft could Sarah make?
With her pampered upbringing, the type who would want someone to feed her water...
Driven by curiosity, I unconsciously glanced at the phone screen Sarah had pulled out. With just one look, my blood seemed to freeze instantly.
The photo displayed on the screen was unmistakably the handmade robot I had completed with Jack the afternoon before last in the kindergarten's parent-child activity room.
Although Jack's work was crude, I clearly recognized the basic outline of that piece, the way things were glued, and even the few decorative lines I had personally drawn to make the whole thing look more coordinated.
I had drawn those. They were strokes I had made while holding Jack's hand, or added to make up for his messy gluing.
Sarah was actually showing off the craft I had made with Jack here, claiming it was made by her and her son.
How dare she?
A cold fury and enormous sense of absurdity exploded in my chest, burning through my limbs until they trembled, my fingertips instantly ice-cold.
So George having me do the craft for Jack that day wasn't just to order me around. It was even more so to give Sarah material to show off, to let her play the role of a good mother who personally makes crafts for her child in front of all these people.
What did they take me for?
A free doormat to be used and discarded?
A background character whose work could be stolen at will to decorate their happy family facade?
George, to please Sarah, you really can stop at nothing. You can play me for a fool again and again, completely disregard my feelings, freely waste my energy and emotions, all just to make Sarah happy, to give Sarah more capital to show off. George, you really have no heart.
My face turned uncontrollably pale. My fists clenched tightly at my sides, nails digging deep into my palms, sending sharp pain, yet it was far less than the fury and chill in my heart from being repeatedly trampled on and completely used.
William immediately sensed the violent shift in my emotions.
He stepped forward and gently grabbed my wrist, wanting to lead me away, "Grace, let's go. Let's take care of business first."
His touch and voice pulled me back slightly from emotions that were about to explode.
Just then, George's gaze swept over again.
This time, his eyes didn't fall on my face but on William's hand holding my wrist.
His expression darkened imperceptibly for a moment. But he still didn't speak, only his gaze was like a knife dipped in ice.
Sarah obviously also noticed George's gaze and the somewhat intimate posture between William and me.
Her eyes flickered, then, as if to assert her claim, she held George's arm even tighter, her voice coquettish as she changed the subject, "George, let's call our son, shall we? He woke up this morning and didn't see me, and he was fussing for a hug. Too bad I was in such a rush to leave that I didn't get to hold him properly."
As soon as she said this, the crowd that had been enviously discussing the craft suddenly fell silent, the atmosphere becoming somewhat awkward and shocked.
George's hidden marriage status wasn't a secret in their circle.
But everyone vaguely knew that his wife had given birth to a son for him, and later a daughter.
It was just that George had protected this Mrs. Smith extremely well, never bringing her to public appearances, not even a single photo had circulated—very mysterious.
At this moment, Sarah's words, combined with her earlier showing off the craft made with her son, and her current intimate posture holding George's arm...
It was almost equivalent to publicly revealing her cards.
People's gazes toward Sarah and George immediately became more complex, full of scrutiny and a hint of excitement at watching drama unfold.
Everyone's eyes focused on George, waiting for his reaction.
Would he tacitly accept or clarify?