Jessica turned her head away. She couldn't speak, and even if she could, she was no match for him.
What was the point of explaining further, when he never believed her anyway?
Timothy, growing impatient with her silence, pressed on. "You're disabled, Jessica. You could have a peaceful, comfortable life, but instead you insist on making trouble. What is it that you want?"
He had a new project about to launch—something he'd been preparing for months. He didn't have the time or patience for this.
Jessica's fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned red.
In his eyes, she was nothing but an invalid. She was supposed to be grateful for the life she had now, to count her blessings—speechless or not, she could still live well enough. If it hadn't been for this family, she would never have ended up like this.
Still, Jessica said nothing.
Timothy was nearly at his breaking point.
"Even if you're set on a divorce, you're coming back with me to the family estate today—no arguments."
It was his grandfather's birthday. He had to bring her.
Thud, thud, thud.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Dad, Mom, are you ready yet? Great-Grandpa just called—he's asking when we'll get there."
Henry pushed open the door, but immediately sensed something was off. He frowned, tilting his small face up to Timothy. "Dad, is Mom upset because Miss Sheila is staying with us?"
Timothy pressed his lips together, offering no reply.
Henry took his silence as confirmation. He walked over to Jessica and took her hand.
The sudden touch made her fingers tense.
Henry gave her hand a gentle shake, his voice sweet and coaxing. "Mom, Miss Sheila's only staying with us because she gets allergic reactions when she stays in hotels. Don't be so stingy, okay?"
Jessica lowered her head.
Her son's eyes were innocent as ever, but his words cut deeper than any accusation.
Her husband had brought his lover into their home with open arms, and now her own son was siding with an outsider. Any show of emotion from her, and she was called petty.
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