Chapter 15 Parents‘ Gifts
“Stephanie, what exactly are you trying to do?”
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I turned around as soon as I heard Reagan’s familiar voice from behind. “Where are my things?”
“All thrown out.”
Reagan’s tone was harsh as she crossed her arms, a mocking smile playing on her lips.
“You’re no longer Mrs. Stone. Since you don’t live here, your things don’t belong here either.”
She was smug, oblivious to my growing anger.
“Where did you throw them?”
The trash, where else?”
Reagan took a step closer, her eyes turning increasingly hostile.
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“Stephanie, let me tell you something, don’t think you have a chance with him again. Maverick only came to get you because his grandpa insisted. There’s no future for you two!”
“If there’s no future for me and him, it doesn’t seem like things are going smoothly for you either.”
I sneered, “If I heard correctly, Maverick told you not to come to this house unless necessary. Looks like you’re still far from becoming Mrs. Stone.”
“Stephanie! You bitch!”
Enraged by my words, Reagan lunged at me. I raised my hand, grabbing her by the throat, glaring at her fiercely.
“Reagan, you better not mess with me again! Or I won’t let you off!”
I narrowed my eyes, a dangerous glint flashing in them.
“If you don’t want me to hold you responsible for my child’s death, you’d better tell me where my things are!”
Reagan seemed frightened by my intensity, her face growing paler.
She frantically slapped at my hand, struggling for air.
Watching her gasping for breath, I released her with a shove, watching as she fell to the floor.
“How dare you treat me like this? Aren’t you afraid Maverick will see?”
She started to cry, and just then, Maverick appeared.
“What are you doing?”
It was still an angry roar, but this time, it wasn’t directed at me; it was aimed at Reagan.
As Maverick entered and saw the room’s decor, his face darkened.
“Reagan, I told you,.nothing in this room was to be touched! Who gave you permission to place your things
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Chapter 15 Parents‘ Gifts
here?”
I blinked, momentarily stunned by Maverick’s fury.
Did he really not allow Reagan into this room? Didn’t he allow her to touch anything in here?
Why? Wasn’t Maverick madly in love with Reagan? Why would he act like this?
My mind was a chaotic mess, but clarity soon returned.
Whatever was happening between them had nothing to do with me. I was just here to retrieve the gifts my parents gave me.
When I married Maverick, I brought all my belongings with me.
Maverick’s house was dark and sparse, lacking any warmth.
I didn’t like it, so I filled the room with all the birthday gifts Mom and Dad had given me over the years.
Now that Maverick and I were divorced, I needed to take those things back.
“Maverick, where are my things? My parents‘ birthday gifts?”
I interrupted their conversation, eager to find my stuff and leave.
“I’ll help you find them,” Maverick replied, his tone unexpectedly gentle toward me, but icy toward Reagan.
“Where are Stephanie’s things?”
Reagan got up from the floor, pathetically rubbing her scratched arm.
“I don’t know. I had the maid throw them in the trash this morning. I’m not sure if they’re still there! Maverick, look at her, she almost strangled me!”
Reagan whined to Maverick, but I wasn’t trying to hide anything.
“I did choke her. Too bad I didn’t squeeze harder, or I could’ve avenged my child’s death!”
With that, I turned and headed down to the trash area by the door.
The Stones‘ trash area was large. I saw four or five almost overflowing trash bins and, ignoring the stench, kicked them over, ready to search for my belongings.
Maverick appeared behind me, holding two pairs of gloves. He handed me one. “I’ll have the maids help you look.”
“No need.”
I took the gloves and started digging through the trash.
Maverick donned his gloves and bent down to help.
I froze at his action.
