Chapter 190
After hearing what my mom said, my tense nerves finally started to relax, but a more complicated and indescribable emotion welled up inside me.
I felt relieved because George hadn't taken the opportunity to shake my mom's resolve or kick us while we were down.
But more than that, I felt confused and bewildered.
I thought back to how superior he'd acted the last time we were outside his hospital room not long ago.
He'd accused me of being wrong, demanded an apology, and made it clear he wouldn't back me up.
He'd also used that tone like he was lecturing a subordinate, saying his money didn't grow on trees, that investments needed to show returns, and he wouldn't keep funding projects that don't deliver.
Every word was cold and heartless, casually dismissing my and my mom's company's troubles as just business problems and survival of the fittest.
But now?
He'd come to visit my mom on his own, with a fairly calm attitude.
He'd paid all of my mom's hospital expenses in advance, even including the cost of a home care nurse afterward.
He'd also let Sarah move my mom to a better private room.
This series of actions formed a stark and ironic contrast with his previous cold remarks.
What was he trying to do?
A slap followed by a reward?
Using this contradictory, hot-and-cold approach to show off his control?
To remind me that my situation still depended on his whim?
Or was it that George himself had some serious personality flaw, or maybe even a split personality?
Otherwise, how could someone be so cold and warm at the same time?
I felt like I'd never really seen through George.
His coldness and cruelty were so real, yet the occasional care he showed was like poison, making me harbor pathetic illusions, mistakenly thinking he might still care about me a little, even just a tiny bit.
It was this bit of self-deception that made me chase after him like a fool in my past life, humbly begging for a little attention and warmth, only to end up jumping to my death.
In the end, all his kindness, all his resources and tenderness, went to Sarah.
And I was just a ridiculous foil, a tool to build their love story and test their devotion.
If it weren't for Violet's constant efforts and goodwill, trying to bring us together and keep things going, George and I might have reached the end much earlier, I could have woken up sooner, and my past life wouldn't have been so tragic.
Seeing me lost in thought with changing expressions, my mom gently called out, "Grace?"
I snapped back to reality.
My mom looked at me, her eyes full of understanding and encouragement, "I know your personality. You don't want to owe him anything, especially not now. You're feeling frustrated, aren't you?"
I nodded.
Yes, frustrated.
Very frustrated.
This suffocating feeling of accepting charity from George, yet unable to cut ties immediately, stuck in my throat.
My mom squeezed my hand, her tone firm, "If it comes to it, when I'm discharged, we'll return every penny he paid, not a cent less. We won't owe him anything."
My mom's words were like a beam of light, cutting through the tangle of frustration in my heart.
Right, return it.
Why should I use his money?
Why should I accept this condescending charity from him?
Even if legally, some of it was technically marital property that belonged to me.
I didn't want any more connections with George, not even a penny's worth.
"Mom," I suddenly stood up, my eyes becoming unusually clear and determined, "I'm going to return it to him right now."
I didn't want to wait anymore.
Every extra day I waited, this frustration would weigh on my heart another day.
My mom was startled for a moment, then her face showed understanding and a supportive smile, "Go ahead, Grace. I support you. Return the money, and we'll have peace of mind."
I knew George was recovering from his cold and should be resting at home.
Leaving the hospital, I drove straight to that place where I'd lived for six years which now felt cold and suffocating to me.
The Smith Villa.
Night had fallen, the villa district's lights were sparse, especially quiet.
I parked outside, looking at that familiar building, feeling no attachment in my heart, only frozen calm.
Walking to the door, I pressed the doorbell.
The wait wasn't long. I heard footsteps inside, and the door was pulled open from within.
However, the person standing inside, with a somewhat lazy and surprised look on her face, wasn't George or a servant.
It was Sarah.
I recognized the light pink nightgown with delicate lace trim she was wearing.
It was one of the birthday gifts Violet had specially ordered for me from abroad in the third year of my marriage.
I'd only worn it twice. Later, after George said the color was too childish, I never wore it again and kept it in the back of my closet.
Now, it was on Sarah.
She'd obviously just showered, her hair slightly damp and draped over her shoulders, still carrying the scent of her bath.
Seeing me standing outside, her face showed undisguised surprise.
"Ms. Brown, why are you here so late?"
Her posture, her tone, her clothing—everything silently proclaimed that she was the lady of this house.
And I had become an uninvited guest.
Seeing Sarah wearing my nightgown, acting like the lady of the house standing inside the door, I couldn't even muster a ripple of anger in my heart. Only cold disgust remained.
I ignored the territorial wariness on her face and walked straight past her into the entryway.
"I need to see George about something." My voice had no inflection. "Call him down."
Sarah clearly hadn't expected me to be so direct, practically ignoring her existence.
She froze for a moment, and the pretended composure on her face was immediately replaced by a hint of offended displeasure.
She quickly followed, blocking my path to the stairs leading to the second floor, "Ms. Brown, George is already resting. He just recovered from his cold and needs to recuperate. He doesn't want to be disturbed."
"If you have something to say, you can tell me and I'll pass it on to him. Or I can have him contact you tomorrow when he wakes up?"
I stopped and looked up at her.
Resting?
I instinctively glanced at my phone screen. 7:05 PM.
George was resting?
What a joke.
Having lived under the same roof with him for six years, I knew his schedule better than anyone.
He never had a habit of going to bed early. Usually working late into the night was his norm.
I used to worry about his health and tried countless times to get him to rest earlier, only to always get his cold response of "you go to sleep first," followed by the soft sound of the study door closing, leaving me with a room full of cold air and endless waiting.
Resting at seven o'clock—that probably only happened when Sarah was here and he had that kind of leisure.
I sneered inwardly but was too lazy to expose her clumsy lie, and had no interest in finding out what they'd just been doing upstairs.
I took out a thick envelope from my bag that I'd prepared earlier.
Inside was cash, the amount exactly matching the estimated cost of my mom's hospitalization and subsequent nursing care.
Though it might not be perfectly accurate, it was more rather than less.
I held the envelope directly in front of Sarah, looking at her calmly, "This money is what George paid for my mom's hospital and nursing expenses. I'm returning it to him now."
"I don't need his money, and please tell him, and your uncle Tom, to stay away from my mom and stop bothering us in any way."
Sarah's gaze fell on the envelope, her face first showing a trace of surprise.
Then, as if remembering something, the corners of her mouth slowly curved into a somewhat mocking smile.