Timothy's arrival interrupted Mom. He was as polite and courteous as ever, yet he carried an air of innate superiority. He said, "Peter, Elizabeth. Sorry to keep you waiting."

I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Fortunately, he didn't embarrass my parents or make them feel humiliated.

"No, it's fine. We just got here. We were chatting with Josie, so we didn't wait long at all!"

"You can go ahead and finish up whatever you were doing if you're not done. We're fine just talking here."

I lowered my head. "Come on, Mom. Let's eat."

Timothy sat at the head of the dining table. My parents and I sat on either side of him.

Dad looked hesitant as he carefully scrutinized Timothy's expression. His tone was almost groveling as he finally said, "Timothy, I have a favor to ask…"

Timothy said, "I know. York Group has been facing some difficulties lately. Don't worry about the funding. Did you bring the contract?"

Dad nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, of course."

Timothy said, "I'll sign it later tonight, and Josie can send it back to you tomorrow. The funds will be transferred to York Group by Friday at the latest."

His words instantly lifted a weight off both Mom's and Dad's shoulders. Their faces broke into relieved smiles as they thanked him profusely.

"Josie is my wife. It's only right for me to help her family through tough times," Timothy said.

His words dispelled Mom's earlier doubts. Being a straightforward person, she didn't beat around the bush when she spoke. She smiled warmly and said, "Seeing you and Josie doing so well puts my mind at ease!

"When I saw the news about Yasmin Beech's sugar daddy yesterday, I actually thought it might be you. The worry had kept me up all night!"

Timothy and I stiffened at her words, but we quickly changed the subject.

After they left, I slipped the divorce agreement in with the last page of Dad's contract and brought them to the study.

…

In the study, Timothy was handling work emails at his desk. The warm light outlined his cold features. I used to adore this focused, serious side of him.

I sighed softly and handed him the contract, saying, "This is the contract my dad asked me to give you to sign. Take a look at it, please."

He glanced at me and smiled when he saw that I wasn't arguing with him anymore. "So, you've finally learned where to draw the line."

"Yeah. Thanks for helping my family." I thanked him, swallowing my grief.

Before signing, Timothy said, "By the way, I need to tell you something. The media's been too nosy lately, so I'm planning to move Yasmin and Daphne in here. Horizon Bay is the most private villa district in Seavale, so it's safer for them to stay here."

A suffocating pain gripped my heart. How could I have forgotten that he was a shrewd businessman? Every favor he gave came with a price. He hadn't helped the York family for nothing.

I forced out a single word. "Fine."

He continued, "Also, I'd like Daphne and Yasmin to stay in the master bedroom. We want to give Daphne a sense of—"

"Yeah, you don't need to explain anything. I get it," I interrupted. "I'll move to the guest room. The master bedroom is yours and hers."

Timothy didn't even belong to me anymore. Why would I care about a bedroom?

I pointed to the contract after agreeing to his terms. "Can you sign now? It's urgent."

Timothy didn't say anything else and started signing.

The further he went, the more nervous I got—the last page was the divorce agreement I'd slipped in.

Fortunately, Timothy seemed to still have some faith in me. He only lifted the corner of each page and signed where needed without even reading the contract's contents.

When he signed the last page, which was the divorce agreement, my heart finally settled. I was afraid that he would realize what he'd done, so I quickly took the contract away as soon as he finished.

Back in the master bedroom, I carefully slipped the divorce agreement with Timothy's signature into the pages of a book for safekeeping.

It would take a month for the divorce to be finalized.

…

Later that night, I started packing to move out of the master bedroom.

When Timothy returned and saw me limping around, gathering my things to make way for his mistress and illegitimate daughter, he stopped me.

"Let Laura or the maids handle this," he said, his tone relatively gentle. "Once this blows over, they'll leave, and you can move back in. Don't worry. They won't stay long."

I let out a bitter laugh and swept a gaze over his serious face. "Should I be thanking you for your graciousness?"

His expression instantly turned cold.

I was just moving to a guest room, not into a new house. There wasn't much for me to pack. I grabbed some skincare products and clothes, but the most important thing was a small wooden urn from the top of the closet in the bedroom.

I didn't ask anyone to help me with it. I stood on a chair and carefully took the urn down myself. The child in those photos was Timothy's precious treasure, and this urn held mine.

But my treasure couldn't live freely like other children. It would stay forever in this urn, untouched by sunlight.

While I was retrieving it, Timothy was on the balcony, making a call. He meticulously instructed his assistant on the safest route to bring Yasmin and Daphne to the villa.

When he finished his call and came back in, he saw me clutching the urn. A trace of displeasure crossed his face. "Why are you taking that?"

His eyes held a hint of confusion.

I couldn't help but wonder whether he would still have cheated if our daughter hadn't died. Would our daughter have been his treasure, too?

The thought was gone in a flash. I didn't want to keep tormenting myself over a man like him.

As I turned to leave, Timothy grabbed my wrist. "I asked you a question. Why are you taking that?"

I looked at him icily. "Because this is the only thing in this house that belongs to me."

I didn't know whether my words had touched the last shred of his conscience, but he slowly loosened his grip.

I moved to the guest room and placed the urn in the safest spot. Then, I stared at it for a long time.

The next day at noon, Yasmin and Daphne were brought to the villa. Laura had just finished preparing lunch. It was a full spread of vegetarian dishes. No matter how varied or refined the dishes were, they were still vegetarian.

Neither Yasmin nor Daphne was used to it, but Yasmin seemed eager to please Timothy. Not only did she pretend to enjoy it, but she also coaxed and pressured Daphne to eat.

I scoffed. The glamorous TV star was nothing special after all. It was a good thing I wasn't her fan.

After tasting a few dishes, Timothy set down his cutlery, looking dissatisfied. "Were these ingredients freshly flown in today? The quinoa doesn't taste right, either."

Laura glanced at me awkwardly before explaining, "Mrs. Grant usually prepares your meals herself. She usually mixes other grains with the quinoa in precise proportions. She wasn't feeling well today, so I could only reproduce the recipes based on what I remember. I couldn't replicate the flavor."

Timothy probably hadn't realized how different the food would taste with someone else cooking. His gaze lingered on me, heavy with meaning, but I didn't offer to take over the cooking again.

After all, who would be foolish enough to pour time and effort into cooking for another woman's man?

Timothy, ever lofty, would never deign to ask me to keep cooking his vegetarian meals. At the same time, he was a picky eater with sky-high standards for food.

So, he called his assistant and instructed, "Find a chef skilled in vegetarian cuisine. Money's no issue. I want them here by tomorrow."

At that moment, Yasmin, who had been playing the role of a pitiful guest since her arrival, spoke up. "Ms. York, I know you have issues with me. Moving in here with Daphne so abruptly was a bit rude…"

I stayed calm as I said, "You know it's rude, yet you still shamelessly moved in, didn't you? Is there nowhere else in the world for you to stay except Timothy's and my home? Do you have to resort to being a homewrecker to put a roof over your head?"

Her face turned red with rage before becoming ashen. She wanted to snap back at me, but held it in, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked to Timothy for help.

Only I noticed her fingers clenching tightly underneath the table.

Daphne was just a child, but she sensed the hostility in my tone. She ran to Timothy, climbed onto his lap, and asked timidly, "Daddy, who is this lady? She's so mean."

"Don't be scared, Daphne. She… She's not a bad person," he said, shooting me a warning look. He didn't lose his temper with me in front of Yasmin, though.

I figured that it was because I'd been "cooperative" despite him bringing his mistress and illegitimate daughter to flaunt them under my nose. I hadn't caused a scene, so he felt just a little bit guilty.

So, he didn't have the nerve to push me further. He couldn't expect me to not only accept his mistress but also smile and play nice, could he?

Yasmin's displeasure was palpable after failing to stir up a fight between me and Timothy. The table full of vegetarian dishes must have tasted like cardboard to her.

I couldn't help but scoff inwardly. Timothy had been devoutly religious for three years, and I, a meat lover, had eaten vegetarian food alongside him throughout that time.

Yet Yasmin, who wanted to steal my husband, couldn't even handle this hurdle.

I finished eating, set down my cutlery, and left the table under their complicated gazes. Back in the guest room, I took a deep breath and looked around the house that I'd lived in for nearly four years. I'd gone from the master bedroom to the guest room. I was even more like a guest now.

I hadn't slept last night and wanted to take a nap, but a knock abruptly sounded at my door. I opened it to see Yasmin standing there with a large bag.

She said, "Ms. York, I'm sorry about this. These are your and Tim's wedding photos. He said it's not good for Daphne to see them, so could you please put them away?"

"There's no need for that. Just throw them in the trash," I said, my expression blank. I moved to close the door.

But Yasmin didn't want to give up without provoking me. She quickly stopped the door from swinging shut and said in a soft and pleading voice, "Ms. York, Daphne is a secret between Tim and me, and we have reasons we can't yet reveal. You don't need to lash out like this. Once Daphne and I leave, you can hang the photos back up."

A secret?

Lovely. She and Timothy had secrets, hidden reasons, and I was just a pawn in their game. Was that what she wanted me to know?

I had no interest in wasting words on her, so I grabbed the bag and tossed it carelessly into my room. The glass frames inside shattered.

Yasmin was stunned by my actions, as if she couldn't believe that I wasn't heartbroken or even hurt. In her eyes, I should've played the part of the scorned wife. I needed to curl up into a ball and sob my heart out over the broken glass.

I glanced at the bag on the floor. "There, I've put the photos away. Is there anything else? Or do you need me to pack up other things? Should I also put away the bed Timothy and I slept in?"

Yasmin was left speechless. Her delicate features twisted in frustration. Unfortunately, all she got in response was the sound of me slamming the door in her face.

I didn't spare the photos in the bag another glance. I left the bag by the door for Laura to throw out later.

…

After my nap, I launched the Instagram app to see a new friend request. The profile picture was of Daphne, so it didn't take a genius to guess that this was Yasmin's account.

I didn't reject it. Instead, I accepted the request.

It was just as I had expected. She was gearing up to torment me 24/7 through her Instagram stories and posts. I should have ignored her, but my curiosity got the better of me. I pathetically tapped into her profile.

I wouldn't have expected any less from someone in the entertainment industry. Yasmin knew how to keep herself free from implication—not a single photo showed her face, let alone her with Daphne and Timothy.

However, there were many crystal-clear images of Daphne and Timothy. Every special occasion had a nine-photo carousel, complete with captions to commemorate the day.

When I was pregnant, I had imagined and looked forward to seeing Timothy as a father. Ironically, that dream never came true with me, but I found the answer in his mistress' Instagram posts.

I scrolled slowly, trying to pinpoint when Timothy had started having the affair. Then, I stopped at a particular date.

It wasn't the day his affair had started, but it was the darkest day of my life.