Chapter 95 I Don’t See Her As a Threat
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Ugh. So annoying. I thought I could scroll on my phone to kill time. Guess not- gotta find a charger first.
I reached out to push the door open.
Suddenly, the sharp click of high heels echoed in the room- more than one pair.
Then, I heard a woman speak. “Ms. Tackman, that gossip earlier has to be fake, right? It was just the garage door opening. People act like their marriage is picture perfect.”
Queena responded coolly, “I don’t care what people say. It doesn’t affect me. Shawn’s coboration with my father’s firm just started. I’m only focused on tightening the partnership between ourpanies.”
“Do you love him, Ms. Tackman?” The other woman asked, curiosity in her voice. “He’s a married man, after all.”
Queena gave a smallugh. “To me, he’s still the same Shawn I knew all those years ago. Married, kid or not–it doesn’t change a thing.”
The other woman dropped her voice. “But I’ve heard Mrs. Hartwell’s got a temper. You might be ying with fire.”
“I don’t see her as a threat,” Queena said casually. “She’s just a nobody from some small town. Even if she throws a tantrum, she’s nothing more than a sideshow act. Sure, a clown can be entertaining for a moment, but never for a lifetime. Shawn’s still young. He’s got a long road ahead of him.” Her words hit me like a dagger stabbed straight into the chest; my heart thudded violently.
Honestly speaking, <i>I’m </i><i>Shawn’s </i>legal wife <i>anyway</i>. <i>But </i><i>in </i><i>Queena’s </i><i>eyes</i>, I wasn’t even worthy of <i>being </i>considered <i>a </i><i>rival</i><i>. </i><i>She </i>was <i>unbelievably </i>arrogant.
“Yeah, you’re right,” the other woman murmured. “Other than a pretty face, what does she know about business? I doubt she even knows how much money Mr. Hartwell has. She’s probably just happy ying house with a few bucks. The other woman seemed to cover her mouth to suppress her giggle.
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“Just treat her like air,” Queena added as she touched up her make–up. “I don’t want my image ruined because of her. Let’s dy the meeting another half hour–my dad’s people are stuck in traffic.”
“Got it,” the woman replied. Then the sound of their heels faded down the hallway.
I was frozen in the cubicle wall; my arms were stiff, and my hand was still on the door like I was about to walk out. After a minute, I finally stepped out–and saw it. A red heart drawn in lipstick on the mirror. No idea who did it.
A spark of rage red up inside me. That dumb heart was sharp–it stirred up a storm in the calm waters of my heart. Does Queena really see me as nothing?
<i>Haha</i>. <i>She’s </i><i>just </i><i>like </i><i>her </i><i>past </i><i>self</i><i>—</i><i>arrogant </i><i>to </i><i>the </i><i>bone</i>. <i>Back </i><i>then</i><i>, </i><i>she </i><i>was </i><i>the </i><i>other </i><i>woman </i><i>—always </i><i>graceful</i><i>, </i><i>always </i><i>above </i><i>it </i><i>all</i><i>. </i><i>She </i><i>swooped in</i><i>, </i><i>took </i><i>everything </i><i>I </i><i>had</i><i>, </i>and <i>I </i>was <i>left </i><i>as </i><i>the </i><i>discarded </i>wife<i>. </i><i>People </i><i>called </i><i>me washed</i><i>–</i><i>up</i>, <i>bitter</i><i>, </i><i>and </i><i>clueless</i>. <i>Told </i><i>me </i><i>I </i><i>should’ve </i><i>just </i><i>stepped </i><i>aside </i><i>with </i><i>some </i><i>dignity</i>.
<i>Queena </i><i>strutted </i><i>around </i><i>in </i><i>expensive </i><i>clothes</i><i>, hand </i><i>in </i><i>hand </i><i>with </i><i>Shawn </i><i>in </i><i>public</i>, <i>conquering </i><i>the </i><i>business </i><i>world </i><i>like </i><i>they </i><i>were </i><i>royalty</i>. <i>The </i><i>rumors </i><i>became increasingly </i><i>absurd </i><i>each </i><i>day</i><i>. </i><i>People </i><i>even </i><i>came </i><i>to </i><i>me </i><i>with </i><i>kind </i><i>advice</i><i>, </i><i>saying </i><i>half </i><i>the </i><i>money </i>I <i>spent </i><i>was </i><i>probably </i><i>earned </i><i>by </i><i>Queena</i>, so <i>I </i><i>should </i><i>just </i><i>turn </i><i>a </i><i>blind </i><i>eye</i>.
I stared at the woman in the mirror–the one who refused to back down. In her sharp eyes, ambition and unwillingness started to burn.
I clenched my fists tightly. If I’m really going through with this divorce, then I want to leave a scar on Queena’s perfect little heart before I go.
<i>She </i>looked down <i>on </i><i>me </i><i>and </i><i>saw </i><i>me </i><i>as </i><i>air</i><i>? </i>
Well, even air can be toxic. And toxic air suffocates.
I grabbed my lipstick and shed a bold X right over that heart,
Challenge epted.
<i>Am </i><i>I </i><i>being </i><i>impulsive</i><i>? </i>
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My original n was simple: divorce Shawn, take the settlement, leave the kid behind, and walk away clean.
<i>Why </i><i>has </i><i>the </i><i>situation </i><i>be </i><iplicated </i><i>now</i><i>? </i>
I haven’t gotten any solid proof for the divorce. And weirdly, the same Shawn who used to fool around was now clingier than ever. Yuna was still rebellious and acted like I didn’t exist, but I’m slowly detaching myself emotionally. At least she can’t hurt me that easily anymore.
Maybe Mnie was right. The best move for now was to y the long game–mess up with Shawn’s heart a bit, then strike when the time is right. If I’m going to leave, I’m leaving with a big check.
My mind was still in chaos when I got back to the office. I plugged in my phone, and the work calls didn’t stop until nightfall. Shawn messaged me, saying he had dinner ns with the reps from the Tackman Group, and I should go home early to spend time with Yuna.
I watched as Queena changed out of her gray power suit into an elegant ivory dress. Her makeup was wless, and her eyes glinted with ambition. She looked every bit like the rightful queen.
She didn’t even spare a nce for my feelings with all these. She simply walked past me, exuding calmness and confidence. Then she called a few people over, telling them to bring documents because they might need them during dinner.
I stared at her. With every move, she was silently mocking me–the legal wife.