“Oh my!” Daniela gasped. “How did that end up here?”
“Michael, didn’t you say you took care of it already?”
Biting her lip, Daniela threw herself into his arms, blushing as she playfully hit his chest.
Michael chuckled and apologized, blaming everything on himself—yet his eyes subtly shifted, watching my reaction.
But when he saw that I wasn't angry at all, the same restlessness he’d felt back in the hospital room crept back into his chest, inexplicably heavy.
“Ashlyn,” he said coldly, “you’ve been glued to your phone ever since you got in the car.”
His voice carried a note of jealousy.
“Chatting with your cousin? Or someone else I don’t know?”
I had just finished booking my plane ticket and locked my phone screen.
“Just reading the news,” I replied calmly.
But rather than easing his mood, my answer only deepened the frown between his brows.
Catching me off guard, he snatched the phone from my hand.
“What’s your password?” he demanded.
“My birthday,” I said.
Nine years of marriage.
A six-digit password that simple—and yet, he still failed to unlock my phone before it locked itself from too many incorrect attempts.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
When we arrived at the house, Michael immediately helped Daniela—who was suffering from pregnancy nausea—into the master bedroom with a look of deep concern.
Then he instructed the cook to prepare all her favorite dishes.
Coming back downstairs, he caught a glimpse of me walking alone toward the guest room. Something about my lonely silhouette made him pause.
After a moment’s thought, he said to the cook,
“Prepare a couple of Ashlyn’s usual dishes too. Set the table for three tonight.”
In the guest room, I opened my suitcase—only to find all my clothes had been slashed to ribbons.
Thankfully, my passport and important documents tucked deep inside were untouched.
Just as I gathered everything and turned to leave, I found Daniela blocking the door.
She held a black bottle in her hand, eyeing me with scorn as she scanned me from head to toe.
“Wow, Ashlyn. You’ve got some nerve,” she sneered.
“Even after I waltzed in here and made you the laughingstock of the whole upper circle, you’re still shamelessly clinging to the Hudson family like some parasite.”
“Oh right, your grandma died last month, didn’t she?” Her tone was syrupy and cruel.