"I need to show you how to use that therapy device," Vivian said through the car window, her gaze sweeping over me with pure condescension. "Otherwise, taking care of Mr. Rockefeller all by yourself must be exhausting."
She leaned closer. "Being the esteemed Mrs. Rockefeller, yet living like a caregiver..."
I stared at her expression in disbelief. Was that... contempt?
Rage flared in my chest.
I earned my living with my own two hands. I used professional therapy methods to ease people's suffering. At the sanatorium, I cared for everyone equally—scientists and artists, people on welfare. They all showed me the same gratitude. People might have different social standings, but when it came to illness and death, we were all equal.
Yet Vivian's expression screamed disdain. My profession had become her weapon against me.
Did she really think a person's worth came down to money? That spending time helping people in need was beneath her?
What a stupid, laughable class mentality!
A dying billionaire would find more meaning in someone holding his hand than in all those zeros in his bank account.
If Vivian thought this way, what about Lucas? The man who spent every day with her—was he any different?
I watched Lucas stride up the steps with those long legs of his. Three, maybe five meters away. No way he hadn't heard what Vivian said.
But he never looked back.
Which meant he agreed with her. He was just as arrogant.
My stomach twisted like someone had grabbed it.
I thought Lucas had hurt me enough that I'd gone numb. Turns out he could still find new ways to twist the knife.
This morning's paper had plastered their intimate photos across the world.
Then he told me to get in the car. Pregnant, exhausted from walking to the pharmacy, I thought he was actually being kind. Instead, I became an audience member, forced to watch him and Vivian chat endlessly while she pressed her chest against his arm.
All the way back to the manor, Vivian paraded around like she owned the place.
And now he was letting her humiliate me.
Too much! Each time worse than the last!
I wasn't some desperate woman clinging to him. I had divorce papers ready. Just two more days.
Did he think by hurting me like this, I'd still refuse to leave? Did he think I was shamelessly after Mrs. Rockefeller's money and status? Was he trying to force me out so he could give my spot to the woman he loved?
Enough! I was done!
The car descendedinto the dim garage. Before it even stopped, Vivian whipped around with a sharp, vicious laugh.
"Who are you pouting for?"
"Lucas was kind enough to give you a ride, and you? You're like a goddamn bug. The second you got in, you made everyone miserable."
My stomach clenched.
I'd expected Vivian might have something to say when she kept me behind, but not this. She sounded like a mean bitch, nothing like the queen from last night's party. I froze for several seconds before my tongue worked enough to fight back.
"This is my husband's car!" I had every right to be in it.
"Enough. Let Lucas go. Let yourself go. Stop making everyone miserable!"
