Chapter 12
Harry had sent many people to locate Samantha’s whereabouts. Many days passed, but there was no
news.
Unwilling to give up, he even moved his things to the company. Every day, he focused his efforts on locating Samantha.
One day, Jack was at a cafe, handling some documents. As soon as he looked up, an art interview on TV
caught his attention.
As the camera swept across the audience, he noticed a familiar face. He immediately got to his feet,
causing his coffee to splash across the table.
“Mrs. Wright?” Jack immediately whipped out his phone and took a picture of the screen.
On TV, Samantha was dressed in a simple white T-shirt and wore her long hair in soft curls. She was
looking down, focused on taking notes. Next to her was Lionel, the gentle and refined professor.
“Samantha’s working as a designer in Solton?” Harry stared at the picture Jack was showing him, his gaze
unreadable.
“Yes. In fact…” Jack hesitated for a moment. “Mrs. Wright seems to be very close to Professor Gray.”
Harry’s finger tensed on the photo.
Samantha had a home, but she chose not to return. She left such a great place in favor of learning design
in the city. What the hell was she thinking?
A moment later, Harry ordered icily, “Buy the latest designer outfit on the market and a set of Ivorian
handcrafted paintbrushes. Send all those things to Mrs. Wright.”
Since Samantha refused to come home, Harry wanted to win her over and prove how good he was.
That afternoon, the expensive gift was exquisitely wrapped up and delivered to Samantha’s apartment. Upon coming home from class, she noticed the gift at the door and frowned slightly in confusion.
She opened the box before glancing at the deliveryman. Upon recognizing the familiar address and name,
she closed the box and told him calmly, “Please send it back.”
“But Mr. Wright intentionally…”
“We’re already divorced,” she interrupted the deliveryman calmly. “Please tell him not to contact me again.
That night, Harry stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, asking coldly, “She rejected it?”
Jack lowered his head. “Yes. Mrs. Wright even said… you two are already divorced. She asked you not to
contact her again.”
Harry hurled the pen he was holding toward the wall. The ink splashed onto the white wall, looking like a jagged wound.
The door to the study opened, and Lydia came in with a cup of water, saying gently, “Harry, don’t be angry.
Have some water.”
Harry did not accept the drink and merely said coldly, “None of your business.”
Lydia’s smile froze, but she refused to give up. She set the cup down and sighed on purpose. “Ms. Knott’s really…
“She just got divorced, yet she’s already getting close with another man. Is it possible… she already planned this in advance?”
Lydia stared at Harry hopefully, as if she were waiting for him to agree with her like he usually did.
But this time, Harry stayed silent. He recalled how Samantha used to wake up early so she could iron his shirts for him. He remembered the exhaustion in her eyes as she waited all night for him to come home from socializing and the way she smiled as she put up with Joseph’s tantrums in silence.
“That’s enough,” he suddenly said hoarsely. “She’s not that kind of woman.”
Lydia widened her eyes in disbelief as she dug her nails hard into her palms.
It was late at night, and silence filled the air. Lydia sat in front of the dressing table in the guest room alone. Her face in the mirror was contorted in jealousy.
“How could this be…” Lydia gripped her comb tightly. “I’ve done everything I could, but I’m still nothing compared to that woman!”
Lydia picked up her phone and went through the photos a private detective had secretly taken of Samantha and Lionel chatting and laughing in a cafe. Malice flashed through her gaze.
The next morning at breakfast, Lydia pretended to drop her phone in front of Harry.
“Oh, no!” She acted flustered as she picked up the phone, the screen still stuck on the photo of Samantha and Lionel.
Harry’s gaze froze instantly.
In the photo, Samantha was wearing a light blue dress that Harry had never seen before. Her smile was as radiant as the morning sun. As for Lionel, he had set a cup of coffee before her with a gentle expression.
Lydia observed Harry’s expression and sighed softly. “Ms. Knott seems to be doing quite well. It didn’t take her long to find a new lover…”
“As I said…” Harry said in a low voice, holding back his fury, “Stop bringing her up.”
3/3
His gaze startled Lydia into silence. As soon as she dropped her gaze, a satisfied smile played on her lips.
That night, Harry stood alone on the balcony, his whiskey glass reflecting in the moonlight. He suddenly remembered that on the night he married Samantha, she had asked him tearfully, “Do you really care
about me?”
Back then, Harry looked away in annoyance, thinking Samantha was making a fuss for nothing.
Now, he realized he couldn’t even answer her. After so many years of marriage, he never did try to understand who she really was.
As the night breeze blew past him, Harry downed his whiskey in one gulp. Still, it couldn’t ease the inexplicable irritation within him.
Far away, the city lights still sparkled, but one of them would never light for him again.
