Chapter 9
By the time Harry was back at the villa, darkness had already fallen.
The living room sat in silence. There was no familiar smell of dinner cooking, and even Samantha didn’t come out to greet him.
Scowling, he casually tossed his blazer onto the couch and called out coldly, “Samantha!”
There was no response.
Harry’s scowl deepened. He marched toward the kitchen, only to find it completely empty. The kitchen felt lifeless, without even a glass of hot water in sight.
“Where could she be?” Harry cursed under his breath before turning to head upstairs.
The bedroom door was ajar, so Harry pushed it open. He expected to see Samantha sitting quietly by the bed, folding clothes, but the room was empty. The bed was made so neatly that it looked like no one had
even touched it.
The wardrobe door was half open. Harry walked over and noticed that most of Samantha’s clothes were gone. All that was left were a few plain loungewear pieces hanging inside.
Harry’s heart sank. An inexplicable wave of irritation rose within him.
“What’s she fussing about now?” He sneered coldly before turning toward his study.
As he walked past the coffee table, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. He saw a divorce certificate lying
next to a neatly written note on the table.
“The cooling-off period’s over. Here’s the divorce certificate. From now on, it’s over between us.”
Harry suddenly narrowed his eyes. He grabbed the divorce certificate and flipped it open. Samantha’s name was printed clearly on the document, along with the official courthouse seal.
“Samantha actually…” Harry’s fingers stilled unconsciously. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the divorce certificate tightly.
He glared at the words. Something seemed to be weighing heavily on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.
But within the next second, Harry forced himself to calm down. A mocking smirk played on his lips.
“She’s just pretending.” He coldly tossed the divorce certificate back onto the coffee table. “It won’t even take three days. She’ll be crying and begging me to marry her again.”
Harry turned to head into the bathroom. Still, the strange sense of agitation lingered.
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The next morning, Joseph’s loud sobs shattered the peaceful silence at the villa. “I don’t want this! I want the fried egg Mommy makes!”
Joseph kicked the chair next to the dining table. On the plate in front of him was a fried egg. Lydia had burned it to a crisp, and its charred edges gave off a scorched smell.
Lydia stood aside, looking helpless. Even her eyes had turned slightly red. “Joe, it’s my first time making this. I’ll definitely improve next time…”
“What you made was horrible!” Joseph snatched up the plate and hurled it to the floor, causing broken pieces to fly everywhere. “I want Mommy! Where did Mommy go?”
Joseph’s tantrum was giving Harry a headache. He set his coffee cup down and said sharply, “Be quiet,
Joseph.”
Joseph flinched under Harry’s gaze, but his grievances and anger caused him to lose control even further.
“Daddy, does Mommy not want us anymore? Why isn’t she back yet?”
Harry’s fingers tensed slightly. The coffee in his cup spilled, splashing a few drops onto his sleeve.
Harry looked down at the stains. Suddenly, he realized Samantha would always immediately hand him a
wet wipe in situations like that. She usually had another shirt ready for him to change into.
But now, no one cared about Harry. He tugged at his tie in frustration before saying to Lydia, “Let the
maids handle it.”
Lydia bit her lip and said softly, “Harry, is Ms. Knott really not coming back? Why don’t I… talk to her?”
“No need.” Harry sneered. “Eventually, she’ll come back and beg me.”
Despite what he said, he unconsciously swept his gaze toward the staircase, as if he were waiting for her
to show up.
Over the next few days, Wright Villa was in a complete mess.
Harry’s clothes weren’t ironed properly, and his ties hung crookedly on a hanger. Since no one had been
checking Joseph’s homework, his teachers called for an explanation.
There were no warm home-cooked meals on the dining table anymore. They had been replaced with
plastic takeout containers.
Lydia did try to take over Samantha’s tasks, but she couldn’t even figure out how to operate the buttons on the washing machine. Harry’s blazers ended up shrunken, and Joseph’s school uniform became
stained with other colors.
“Harry, I’ve really tried my best…” she choked out, her eyes red.
Harry suddenly felt unusually irritated as he looked at her.
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When Samantha used to be around, the household was always in perfect order. All of Harry’s shirts were ironed flawlessly, and her corrections were always all over Joseph’s homework. She even prepared birthday presents in advance for Harry’s parents.
Now, Harry’s life was in a complete mess.
A few days later, Harry could no longer take it. He swept the documents off the table before yelling at his assistant, Jack Smith, “Go and find Samantha! Bring her back to me!”
Jack asked timidly, “Mr. Wright, are you referring to… Mrs. Wright?”
“Who else would it be?” Harry’s darkened gaze was downright terrifying. “Tell her to come back once she’s
had enough of this game! I have no patience for her tantrums!”
Once Jack was gone, Harry sat in front of his desk and massaged his temples. For the first time, he realized Samantha might actually be gone for good.
Harry had brought all of this upon himself.
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