Chapter 205
I walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down expressionlessly.
The attendant handed me the menu at just the right moment. I flipped it open casually and ordered something at random.
The attendant bowed and withdrew.
"My lawyer will be here in a bit." George's voice suddenly rang out, still in that flat, emotionless tone, as if stating some business matter that had nothing to do with him.
"Take a look at the agreement first," he lifted his chin slightly, gesturing toward the neatly bound folder placed in the center of the table. "If there's anything you're not happy with, you can bring it up."
I raised my eyes and glanced at him.
I'd expected him to be prepared, even braced myself for him making things difficult, him humiliating me, And he asking me to leave.
After all, in his eyes, I was probably just some shameless woman clinging to the Smith family's money, refusing to divorce him.
But I hadn't expected him to be this formal, so decisive.
Just yesterday he'd agreed, and today he'd already shown up with a lawyer and an agreement.
This wasn't like his usual foot-dragging and indifference.
I reached out and took the folder.
The cover was stiff kraft paper, with no words on it, just a substantial weight.
I opened the first page. The words "Divorce Agreement" in bold black font caught my eye.
I forced myself to calm down and read through it page by page.
The terms were clear, the logic tight—clearly the work of a professional.
No wonder George hadn't signed my agreement yesterday. He'd been prepared all along.
A mocking smile appeared at the corner of my mouth.
When I got to the property division section, I froze. My grip on the document unconsciously tightened, and I even wondered if I was seeing things because of emotional distress.
The agreement clearly listed two townhouses in the north of the city, which were listed as mine.
There were also two cars. One was the sedan Violet had given me when I first married into the Smith family.
The other was actually a classic sports car from a certain brand that I'd looked at a few times at a car show I'd attended with George, casually commenting that the lines were really beautiful.
Both cars would also be transferred to my name.
Besides that, there was a division of some jewelry and part of the cash savings. The amounts weren't as much as the villas and luxury cars, but they definitely weren't dismissive either.
I stared blankly at those terms, my heart in turmoil.
What did this mean?
Had George lost his mind?
Given his usual attitude toward me, and yesterday's stance of threatening me with divorce for Sarah's sake, I'd thought he'd give me a token severance payment at most, or maybe nothing at all, just tell me to get lost with Milly.
But what he was offering now far exceeded my expectations, even exceeded what I deserved.
Why?
Was it because of guilt?
Guilt over six years of indifference?
Or guilt over Milly getting hurt this time, his failure as a father?
No, impossible.
Someone like George didn't have the word "guilt" in his dictionary.
Then was this a trap?
Using generous material conditions as bait to make me let my guard down, then take away Milly's custody?
Just as I was puzzling over this, a familiar and disgusting voice, accompanied by footsteps, sounded behind me.
"Ms. Brown, you're really punctual," Terry walked over with a disdainful smile on his face.
Beside him was a middle-aged man carrying a black briefcase and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, with a calm and capable air—clearly an elite professional.
This must be George's lawyer.
When I'd heard George say earlier that a lawyer was coming, I'd immediately taken out my phone and sent Mr. Lucas an urgent message, briefly explaining the situation and asking if he could come to the scene.
Mr. Lucas had quickly replied: [Yes, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Stay calm and don't rush to sign anything.]
"Ms. Brown, you're finally willing to divorce?" Terry sat down in the empty seat next to me, leaning forward slightly, lowering his voice, the mockery in his tone almost overflowing. "Wait, no—I heard you hit Sarah yesterday, and George told you to apologize, but you refused no matter what, so George couldn't stand you anymore and asked for a divorce. Basically, you got dumped, right?"
That smug look on his face was absolutely begging to be punched.
I raised my head, my gaze coldly sweeping over him, and pulled at the corner of my mouth, throwing back, "The master hasn't even gotten excited yet, but the dog is already barking."
"You—!" The smile on Terry's face instantly froze, turning to embarrassed anger. His eyes widened, clearly not expecting me to insult him so directly in front of George and his lawyer.
He was so angry he wanted to slam the table and stand up, but when he caught sight of George's still-cold face from the corner of his eye, his neck shrank back, and he forcibly swallowed that anger, only glaring at me viciously with his eyes.
He knew clearly that this was between George and me.
If George didn't speak up, he really had no right to keep barking.
George's lawyer seemed completely unbothered by this little episode.
He nodded politely to me and introduced himself, "Hello, Ms. Brown. I'm Mr. Smith's attorney, Clifford Hayes. I'll be explaining this divorce agreement to you in detail and communicating with you about the relevant terms."
Clifford.
I'd heard that name before.
From Mr. Lucas.
Mr. Lucas had mentioned that Clifford was one of the toughest opponents he'd encountered in his legal career.
The two were equally famous in the industry, known as twin stars, both with excellent professional abilities.
Sure enough, the person George had brought wasn't ordinary.
Clifford sat down across from me, opened his briefcase, took out copies of the relevant documents and a pen, and began methodically explaining the specific content of the agreement to me.
From the specific details of property division, to who would bear the related taxes and fees, to explanations of some subsidiary clauses—his pace was steady, his organization clear, his professional competence impeccable.
After finishing the explanation, he pushed up his glasses, looked at me, and said in an even tone, "Ms. Brown, do you have any objections to the property division plan Mr. Smith has proposed? If so, we can discuss it on the spot and try to reach an agreement."
My fingers holding the agreement were slightly white, but my eyes had never left those words.
I wasn't looking at those generous assets. I was searching, searching very carefully, for terms about Milly's custody.
But there was nothing.
Throughout the entire agreement, there wasn't a single word about Milly's custody, child support, visitation rights, and so on.
As if Milly didn't exist in George's and my marriage, and didn't exist in this coming separation either.
This wasn't right.
Yesterday in the hallway, I'd told him clearly.
I only wanted Milly. I could do without everything else.
Why wasn't it in the agreement?
Was he never planning to let go, deliberately not mentioning it, keeping it as a card to hurt me with later?
Enormous unease and doubt wrapped around my heart like vines.
Seeing me silent, Terry spoke up sarcastically, "Grace, I'd advise you not to be too greedy. George has already been more than generous with you."
"He's given you so much, enough for you and your mom to live comfortably for the rest of your lives. Don't be ungrateful and try to push for more."
He snorted and added, "Besides, what right do you have to ask for more? What have you ever contributed to the Smith family, to George?"
Hearing Terry's words, Clifford didn't ignore them like before. Instead, he turned his head slightly and glanced at George.
George still showed no expression, just gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Getting the signal, Clifford turned back, still wearing his professional smile, but what he said made Terry's face instantly turn ugly, "Ms. Brown, Mr. Smith has instructed that if you're dissatisfied with the current property division plan, or if you have any additional requests, you can bring them up. We'll consider them based on the actual situation. Please don't hesitate."
This was tantamount to publicly slapping Terry in the face.
Terry's face turned red. He opened his mouth, looking at Clifford, then at the expressionless George, wanting to say something but unable to get a word out. He could only crane his neck, breathing heavily through his nose, glaring at me with resentful eyes.
But at that moment, I had no mind to care about Terry's pathetic emotions.
I finally raised my head from that agreement that had made my heart race, my gaze looking straight at George, who had remained silent all along.
"Why isn't Milly mentioned in the agreement?" I stared at him intently, not missing any subtle change in his expression. "I said I only want Milly. I can do without everything else."
"George, where have you put Milly?"