Chapter 50
My mouth instinctively opened, wanting to call out George's name, but no sound came out.
A bitter ache gathered in my heart.
But the next second, I forced myself to calm down.
I was about to divorce George. Who he got cozy with had nothing to do with me anymore!
I stood there like a ridiculous bystander.
I was ready to leave quietly, as if I'd never been there.
"Mrs. Smith!" But Sarah called out to me.
I stopped in my tracks without turning around.
Sarah came over, supporting George, and said, "Mrs. Smith, I can't hold George up by myself. Can you help me get him inside? Oh, and George said that hangover soup you make works really well. I'm not very good at making it. Could you make some and feed it to him?"
I looked at Sarah's entitled face and laughed. "Sarah, are you ordering me around? You won't take care of him yourself, but you want me to serve him?"
Sarah's face showed a hint of innocence as she said, "Mrs. Smith, don't get me wrong. Maybe it's because George relies on me too much, I can't leave. You just happened to come back, and you're familiar with this place. You must know how to make that soup. Helping out shouldn't be a problem, right?"
It seemed that during the time I didn't know about, George had already become very dependent on Sarah.
Every time he got drunk at business dinners, did he sleep on Sarah's shoulder like this?
The gentle tone I'd longed for in my past life had long belonged to another woman.
I pinched my palm hard, using the pain to stay clear-headed and maintain my last bit of dignity.
I sneered, "I don't know how."
With that, I turned around again, not wanting to stay a second longer.
"George, be careful..." Sarah's voice carried a hint of alarm, accompanied by hurried footsteps.
Before I could react, a strong force suddenly crashed into me from behind.
It was George.
Sarah had actually pushed him onto me.
Caught off guard, I stumbled forward, anger instantly rushing to my head.
I turned around and pushed hard. George fell to the ground with a dull thud.
His brows furrowed tightly, too drunk to get up from the ground.
Sarah was on the phone nearby and didn't turn around when she heard the sound.
I just wanted to get my pocket watch back and leave this place.
So I walked toward Sarah, wanting to get the watch back.
I'd barely taken two steps when my waist suddenly tightened.
George had gotten up and suddenly hugged me.
His lips unconsciously brushed against my neck.
"Darling, I miss you so much..." His voice was low and husky, with a suggestiveness I'd never heard before.
If this were before, hearing him whisper like this, I probably would have been overjoyed, thinking the iceberg had finally melted.
But now, I just felt disgusted.
He'd mistaken me for Sarah again.
Because in his sober mind, only Sarah deserved his tenderness and longing.
"Let go of me," I growled through gritted teeth, struggling with all my might.
But drunk people have great strength, and he held on tight.
I stomped hard on his foot. George winced in pain, and his arms loosened for a moment.
I took the chance to break free, quickly turned around, and with all my strength, slapped him hard across the face.
"Look clearly at who I am!"
George covered his face, his eyes gradually becoming clearer, then asked me coldly, "What are you doing here? Where's Sarah?"
Sure enough, when he sobered up, the first person he cared about was always Sarah.
My heart felt like it had been thrown into an ice cellar, completely frozen through.
Although I already knew the answer, hearing it firsthand still felt awful.
"George," I pulled out my phone, brought up the Instagram photo of Sarah wearing the pocket watch, and asked coldly, "Explain this. Why is the pocket watch my grandfather left me hanging around Sarah's neck? You told me before you were still looking for it—is this how you've been looking?"
George's gaze fell on my phone screen and paused for a few seconds.
His expression didn't change much, his eyes frighteningly calm, as if it were just an insignificant matter.
His tone was indifferent, even a bit impatient, "If you want it, just take it back."
No explanation for why he gave it to Sarah?
No apology, not a trace of guilt or embarrassment.
Looking at him like this, I suddenly felt incredibly ridiculous and incredibly sad.
I actually expected him to have some reasonable explanation.
I actually felt hurt by this kind of person's behavior.
I put away my phone and said mockingly, "Then please return my things to me soon. That's what matters."
George's face darkened, clearly stung by my words.
But he didn't argue back, just raised his hand to rub his temple, frowning, his tone commanding, "I feel terrible right now. Help me inside, find me some hangover medicine, and make some hangover soup."
I almost laughed in anger.
Was he really still not sober, or was he just used to ordering me around?
Did he think I was still the Grace from my past life who came when called and left when dismissed, letting him take whatever he wanted?
He got drunk, felt bad, so I should serve him like a maid?
This kind of man—selfish, cold, with eyes only for himself and the people he cared about.
What blinded me in my past life to love him so much that I lost myself and wasted so many years?
How absurd!
I mockingly pointed at Sarah, who was still on the phone not far away, my tone sharp, "George, you've got the wrong person. Your lover is over there. She'll take good care of you. After all, she depends on you so much, and you depend on her so much, don't you?"
With that, I stopped looking at his face, which had become even uglier, turned around, and strode away.
As I passed Sarah, she had just hung up the phone and asked me with a concerned look, "Mrs. Smith, did you get George inside? The hangover soup..."
I just let out a cold laugh and brushed past her.
Behind me, I vaguely heard Sarah say with confusion and dissatisfaction, "How strange."
I walked to the roadside without looking back, got in my car, and fled from this suffocating place.
When I got home, Mom had already gone to sleep with Milly.
I quietly washed up, then lay down next to Milly, pulling her warm, soft little body into my arms.
Smelling her sweet scent and feeling her steady breathing, my mood gradually warmed up and became calm.
I had to get the pocket watch back, no matter what method I used.
It wasn't just Grandpa's keepsake. It was a symbol of my complete break from that absurd marriage.
The next day, after dropping Milly off at kindergarten, I had just reached the Star Tech building when my phone vibrated.
It was a text notification from the court.
[Mrs. Grace Smith, Your divorce dispute case with Mr. George Smith has been reviewed and meets the filing requirements. Our court has officially accepted the case. Relevant legal documents will be served separately. This is to notify you.]
The case had been filed.
The divorce proceedings had finally officially started.
I looked at the message on the screen, imagining George's expression when he received the same notification.
Was he surprised? Displeased? Or still indifferent and cold as always?
Whatever his reaction was, it had nothing to do with me anymore.
I just felt that even breathing had become easier.