He Stole My Job, I Took Back My Life

Chapter 2

When I returned to the apartment I had once shared with Steven, I pulled my suitcase from the closet and began packing my belongings.

I finished in less than thirty minutes.

Just as I reached for the handle of my suitcase, I heard someone entering the keypad code at the front door.

A second later, the door swung open.

Francine Davis stepped inside carrying several bags of groceries.

The moment she spotted my packed luggage, a flash of satisfaction crossed her face before disappearing almost instantly.

She hurried over, wearing a perfectly rehearsed expression of surprise.

"Megan, where are you going with your suitcase?"

I offered her a weary smile. "Francine, Steven and I finalized our divorce today, so I'm moving out. How's your mother doing? Is she feeling any better?"

Francine lowered her eyes, looking innocent and guilty all at once.

"I'm so sorry, Megan. This is all my fault. If I weren't so useless, you and Steven wouldn't have had to sacrifice so much for me."

I shook my head with a faint smile. "Don't say that. Steven and I will get remarried eventually anyway, won't we?"

For the briefest moment, her smile faltered.

Then she nodded so quickly it almost looked forced.

"Of course. Once I'm officially hired by Weston University, you and Steven can get married again."

As she lowered her head to hide her expression, I caught the unmistakable flash of resentment in her eyes.

She had worked far too hard to trick Steven into marrying her.

There was no chance she'd ever let him come back to me.

Not that I wanted him anymore. That marriage had been rotten to its core for a long time.

I picked up my suitcase and headed for the door.

Francine hurried after me and caught my arm.

"You're leaving already? Why don't you stay for dinner?"

Watching her behave as though she were the lady of the house while I had become nothing more than a visitor made my stomach turn.

"No, thanks. You and Steven enjoy your meal. It would be awkward if I stayed."

I paused before adding casually, "By the way, the door code is our wedding anniversary. He never mentioned that to you, did he? If it bothers you, you can always change it to your own anniversary."

The color drained from her face.

Even so, she forced herself to smile.

Watching embarrassment and anger battle across her expression was strangely satisfying.

As she walked me to the door, she deliberately brushed her hair aside, exposing several reddish marks on her neck.

When she noticed my gaze, she immediately covered them with her hand and looked flustered.

"Megan... don't misunderstand. They're just mosquito bites."

I frowned, unable to hide my disgust.

"Why would I misunderstand? Steven had already explained everything to me. There's nothing between the two of you."

A flicker of irritation flashed across her face before she hurriedly nodded.

"O-of course. Steven and I are just colleagues. That's all."

I nodded thoughtfully.

"That reminds me. Which hospital is your mother staying in? I'd like to visit her. It seems like the least I can do."

Francine immediately became flustered.

"Uh... Megan, my mom hasn't been in the right state of mind lately. I don't think visitors would be good for her. I'll pass along your concern."

I sneered inwardly.

Her mother really was sick.

But it was only a benign tumor.

The doctors had already said the surgery had an excellent chance of success.

Yet Francine had lied to everyone, claiming it was terminal cancer and that her mother only had days left to live.

She had manipulated all of us from the very beginning.

I pretended not to notice.

"Then send me her medical records instead. One of my college classmates is a well-known oncologist. I'd be happy to ask him to review her case."

This time, genuine panic flashed across her face.

"Th-that's really not necessary. My mother said she just wants to spend whatever time she has left in peace. I want to respect her wishes."

She watched me anxiously, clearly afraid I would insist.

Instead, I nodded with complete understanding.

"I see. Then I won't disturb her. Please take good care of your mother."

The tension visibly drained from her shoulders.

Only after the elevator doors closed did I pull my phone from my pocket.

The voice recorder was still running.

A satisfied smile slowly spread across my face.