Chapter 3
She closed her eyes in anguish. Charles’s hatred probably began with their arranged marriage.
Waking from a dream, Margaret watched Charles cultivating his interests in the garden. That hopeless existence–she refused to relive it.
Margaret returned to the study, not to work, but to take out a box and put her things inside.
She was shocked to realize how pitifully few belongings in this house were truly hers–no jewelry, no dresses or handbags, even the study overflowed with the boy’s toys.
“What are you doing!”
Charles’s sharp voice suddenly cut through the air behind her.
Margaret turned to see him holding the boy’s hand at the study doorway.
“Mom, Aunt Barbara bought all those toys! You can’t touch them!”
The boy dashed forward, saw his toys packed in the box, shoved Margaret hard, his small face crimson with rage.
“You can’t do anything besides throwing money at me! Aunt Barbara is the one who gives me love and company, and now you want to throw away what she gave me? How could you be so cruel!”
Charles stared at her, silent, as the atmosphere froze over.
After a long pause, he sneered coldly, “Just because the kid likes Barbara, you’d throw away his things?”
“I didn’t.”
Margaret instinctively tried to explain–she’d only picked up the toy to look, and the box was for her own things.
But before she could speak, Victor shrieked, “You’re lying!”
He turned, clinging to Charles‘ waist, sobbing, “Daddy, she’s jealous Aunt Barbara bought me toys! That’s why she wants to throw them away! I don’t want this mommy–replace her!”
“She’s just a bad mom who can’t do anything right! She always thinks money can control Dad and me. Go away, I don’t want you!”
Snot mixed with tears, each word he shouted felt like shards of ice.
Margaret reached out to comfort him, but Jack Nguyen turned away sharply. Seeing this, Charles frowned, a flicker of reproach in his deep eyes.
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Chapter 3
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“Seriously? You’re picking on a child now?”
He glared at Margaret, pale fingers brushing his cuff as he casually straightened his clothes. “Grown adults playing these petty games. I’ve got things to handle–don’t push it.”
With that, he turned and left.
Seeing his retreating figure, Margaret felt her strength drain away, as if an invisible force was slowly ripping her
apart.
Watching him go, she suddenly burst into laughter, yet her eyes held an icy chill that wouldn’t fade.
Perhaps this was for the best–at least it freed her from clinging to false hopes about this family,
Charles hadn’t taken signing the divorce papers seriously, but Margaret transformed. She stopped catering to every whim of the father–son duo.
No longer would she meticulously track Charles’s bank cards or gym membership renewals. Gone were the monthly appointments with tailors and jewelers for his personal fittings.
Even when ingredients for his daily Chicken Noodle Comfort ran out, no one bothered to inform him.
All those things Margaret used to remember were now set aside.
At first, no one paid much attention.
Until he was playing golf and Charles‘ tutor called to ask if this season’s uniforms needed custom tailoring.
Charles rushed to settle the bill, only to find his membership expired. He then weighed whether his bank card could handle such high expenses.
Regardless, they could no longer live as freely as before.
Gritting his teeth, he refused to humble himself before Margaret. He started cutting corners on tutoring, his cuffs were subtly yellowing, and his buddies began teasing him for suddenly embracing frugality–wearing outdated clothes re- peatedly.
That once–refined home had swiftly become a battleground of daily necessities.
The dignity she’d worked so hard to maintain was crumbling.
Charles pushed open the study door. Margaret sat at the desk reviewing documents, strands of hair slipping over her shoulders in the dim light. Her bespectacled profile looked strikingly beautiful.
“What exactly do you want?”
He stood at the doorway in thin pajamas, his tone dripping with condescension.
Margaret looked up at the sound, her gaze meeting Charles with utter bewilderment. “What did you say?”
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Chapter 3
He choked back his words before speaking again: “I’m broke. Transfer money to me.”
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He stepped closer to Margaret, his faint gardenia scent drifting through the air. This wasn’t a request – it was a com-
mand.
