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The older lady's hair was white.
She saw me dragging my thin suitcase and merely stepped aside the way she always had, inviting me in like during my previous visits.
Tears came to my eyes.
When I had given up school to marry, she had been the fiercest opponent.
Even on my wedding day she messaged me.
"Lena, your hardship is temporary. Don't ruin your life in a moment of confusion."
"A life of luxury may look glossy, but ultimately you'll still be asking others for money. Whoever extends their hand will always have to bow."
Time proved Professor Shaw was right.
At first, Julian liked my education.
Later, he had Rachel. Rachel said I came from the bottom of society and even with a degree I couldn't shake the habits of my upbringing.
I needed to learn the rules of their class, I needed to develop proper spending habits.
After I dried my tears, Professor Shaw said quietly,
"I hope you haven't forgotten your craft. I have work for you — fieldwork that involves collecting data in remote environments. Will you go?"
I was stunned.
I hadn't expected her not to scold me but to offer a decent work — precisely what I needed.
She frowned in concern.
"Can you handle the hardships of being a field researcher? Not everyone can."
Tears still on my cheeks, I smiled genuinely.
"Yes, Professor. I can do the hard work!"
She smiled and quickly arranged it.
"If you accept, contact the team. There's no time for nostalgia."
Under her arrangement, I set out.
At first I struggled, but as time passed, the knowledge and processes I'd learned resurfaced.
I became competent.
The stern team leader gave me a thumbs-up.
"At first I thought you might be too delicate, but you've proven yourself."
I smiled. "Everyone looked after me, otherwise I wouldn't have adapted so quickly."
As we joked, a voice unexpectedly called my name, "Lena?"
It was Rachel — impeccably dressed, clutching a new designer tote.
"I wondered why you suddenly insisted on divorcing Julian. Turns out your old habits die hard!"
I froze. We do looked a bit ragged, but that wasn't her reason to insult us.
"Rachel, are you a stalker? You're everywhere," I snapped.
She flushed. A very familiar man stood a step behind her.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Rachel, feigning hurt, said softly, "Nothing, really. Your wife has run away for days and now she's with a group of beggars and stalking us. I just had to warn her."
Julian then noticed me and frowned faintly.
"Lena, you're bullying Rachel again? You must apologize to Rachel first!"
I rolled my eyes and walked away with the others. A girl beside me whispered, "Lena — who is that?"
I snorted coldly. "That's my brainless ex-husband."
Julian's face hardened. "Lena! You followed us here? How long are you going to make a scene? You've run away and ignored your foster mother for days.
Don't you have a conscience? Were you really planning to force me to stop her treatment?"
I looked at him with nothing but disgust.
"Then stop it. Isn't that the only thing you're good at?"
His face and voice wavered between anger and panic.
He immediately pulled out his phone, ignoring Rachel's alarm.
"Julian, please don't—" Rachel began.
Julian cut her off and said coldly, "She needs to learn a lesson. Otherwise she'll never become a proper Mrs. West."
When his medical assistant received his order, she hesitated, Julian pressed. "Just do it."
Only then did the assistant say, "Mr. West, Mrs. West's foster mother had already passed away last month. The medical payments were stopped before she died."
Julian froze, dumbfounded. "That's impossible. How come I wasn't told?"
The assistant, clearly uncomfortable, said, "I did report it to you. But you said you didn't want any news involving her when you were in a good mood."
Suddenly, Julian flashed back to that time.
He'd arranged an drone show — simply to comfort Rachel, who'd been upset when Lena had confronted her at the company.
Why had Lena marched to the office and made a scene?
She had said Rachel deliberately delayed the EAS process. He looked at the earnest woman beside him — Rachel — whose face registered sudden fear.
Rachel, shocked, tried to explain, "Julian, I didn't mean to hide it, I just didn't want you to feel guilty. Over the years you've done enough for her."
For the first time his voice went icy, "Hand me your phone. Show me your calendar."
Panic flickered across Rachel's face as she stammered, "That's private. Are you questioning my work?"
That was all the proof Julian needed.
Everything I'd said was true — I hadn't been fabricating or acting jealous.
At last he realized my attempt to leave the villa with nothing was sincere, I had truly planned to divorce him, and he had been mistaken in thinking I'd cool down.
It was clearly his fault.
