Chapter 4

As I got into the car, I remembered I had to deal with my current affairs. I immediately arranged for the paparazzo to collect a check the next morning, buying off all of Julian’s gossip from today.

The next time I received a message from Julian was a few days later.

After Anastasia returned, he had reined himself in considerably.

Remembering my deal with Grandfather Thorne, I told my driver to make a detour to pick Julian up.

The door was open when we arrived. Inside, a group of people were playing cards, and Anastasia was among them.

She had just won a big hand. The man opposite her flattered, “Ms. Anastasia, you’re on a roll tonight! You’re dominating the table; I’m about to lose my shirt. Have a heart, spare us!”

Anastasia smiled, about to speak.

Julian looked up and saw me at the doorway. He took a drag from his cigarette and scoffed, “The one standing at the door is your actual Mrs. Thorne. Are you blind, calling random women by her title? No wonder you can’t win a hand all night.”

The man saw me and stood up in a panic. “M-Mrs. Thorne…”

Anastasia, seeing me, paled.

At this scene, I knew Julian was doing it on purpose.

He always did this – deliberately made me watch, doing everything he could to force me into a divorce and make way, yet he’d stubbornly refuse to actually divorce me.

His reason was simple enough: “She’s young and naive. I can keep her around for fun, but who would seriously marry her? One Mrs. Thorne is enough, and that’s you.”

I surveyed the people in the room, left my driver behind, instructing him to pick up Julian later.

Then I nodded politely and turned to leave.

I had just reached the door when Anastasia blocked my path.

The girl who was eighteen two years ago was now barely twenty, still fresh-faced and vibrant.

She was slightly breathless, her voice a delicate whisper, “Mrs. Thorne, I’m so sorry. I truly didn’t mean to break up your family. I tried to leave, I tried to forget, but I couldn’t.”

“I can’t forget Mr. Thorne. I love him very much, but please believe me, deep down, I really didn’t intend to destroy your family.”

“Mr. Thorne and I… we just met too late. If he had met me back then, I would have been Mrs. Thorne…”

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. Anyway, I genuinely want to apologize to you. If there’s a next life, I’ll be your servant to atone.”

“But in this life, I can’t give Mr. Thorne back to you. I’m sorry.”

I looked her up and down. Two years ago, she could only afford clothes costing a few tens of dollars. Now, she was covered head to toe in understated luxury, a pair of shoes on her feet worth three years of her department store salary.

There are many sparrows. I used to be one; now it’s Anastasia.

I didn’t speak, and I wouldn’t stoop to speaking with her.

I wouldn’t try to appeal to morality or conscience to awaken a mistress.

If she knew how to spell ‘morals,’ she wouldn’t be so thrilled to be a mistress.

“You should divorce Mr. Thorne!” Her voice called out behind me, “Release him!”

Inside, the people exchanged glances. Someone dared to look at Julian, whose face was icy.

“Julian, aren’t you going after Mrs. Thorne? When women get angry, they might actually file for divorce!”

Julian looked at the image of the two-million-dollar check, lost in thought.

After a moment, he chuckled, “Wouldn’t divorce be great? Free as a bird.”