I Was His Pillow, Now I Leave Him

Chapter 2

The next morning, Lillian was awakened by a commotion outside the door, her temples throbbing with sharp pain.

She recognized the voice. Emilia had moved in.

She hadn't expected Brandon to be so impatient—unable to wait even a single day.

In the living room, Brandon helped Emilia sit on the sofa, his eyes filled with tender affection.

Whatever Brandon whispered to her made her clutch her stomach and giggle uncontrollably.

Hearing footsteps, Brandon turned his head. His gaze lingered briefly on Lillian before he spoke in a casual tone, as if commanding a servant, "Oh, you're up? Emilia's moving in starting today. She grew up spoiled and has never worked a day in her life, plus she's heavily pregnant now. Make sure you take good care of her."

Lillian didn't answer, her eyes falling on Emilia.

A fallen heiress, yet even while moving into a married man's house, she refused to tolerate the slightest grievance.

Emilia turned and met her gaze dead-on, before saying bluntly, "So this is your wife? She's nothing special."

Her words were incredibly rude, but Brandon merely looked at her with doting affection.

"Brandon, I took a look around and I really think the master bedroom upstairs has the best sunlight and the best view. It'll be perfect for the nursery later." Seeing that Brandon didn't react to her previous comment, Emilia pushed her luck even further.

Lillian's entire body froze as her eyes snapped toward Brandon.

That was the bedroom they had shared as husband and wife, a space filled with memories from their three years of marriage.

Upon hearing this, Brandon merely raised an eyebrow. "If you like it, it's yours. I'll give you whatever you want."

"No!" Lillian heard her own dry voice ring out, carrying a barely perceptible tremor.

Brandon's gaze instantly turned cold. "It's just a bedroom. Why can't she stay there?"

He stopped looking at her and directly called out to the staff, "Move Lillian's things to the guest room on the third floor. Have the master bedroom ready for Emilia immediately."

The staff present stopped their work, cast a sympathetic glance at Lillian, and then hurried upstairs to pack up her belongings.

The teddy bear pillow he had given her for her eighteenth birthday, the high heels he had gifted her upon her college graduation, the doll they had made together for their first wedding anniversary...

Lillian watched helplessly as they were removed from the bedroom that had originally belonged to her.

Standing frozen in place, she found it difficult to breathe, her head throbbing as if it were about to split open.

The world felt as though it were trapped inside a giant glass dome, with all sounds turning muffled and indistinct. Lillian thought that her depression was probably flaring up. Otherwise, why would she feel so incredibly exhausted?

Looking at her lifeless eyes, Brandon frowned as a flicker of unease stirred in his heart. He stepped forward. "Alright, look. I told you last night that you're always going to be my wife. Emilia isn't changing your status, so stop being so petty."

Lillian's gaze remained vacant. In the end, she merely forced a hollow smile. "Whatever you say."

It didn't matter anyway. When the time came, she would be gone.

Just then, the phone in her pocket began to vibrate.

"Ms. Ross, your sister's condition just took a sharp turn for the worse. You need to get over here right now!" It was a call from the hospital.

A loud buzz rang in Lillian's head, leaving her mind completely blank.

It took her a long moment to regain her senses. Clutching her phone, she prepared to rush out.

"Wait," Brandon's voice came from behind her. "Emilia's been craving those matcha pastries since yesterday. Go whip up a batch for her before you head out."

Lillian's footsteps froze. His words were so absurd that she almost thought she was hallucinating.

"Oh, never mind. It looks like your wife has somewhere important to be. I only brought it up because Brandon said your pastries are amazing. I guess the baby and I are just out of luck..." Emilia caressed her stomach, her arrogant face suddenly softening into a picture of fragile helplessness.

"If you want them so bad, get the kitchen staff to make them." Lillian squeezed the words through her teeth, lifting her foot to leave again.

"Lillian." Brandon's voice dropped. "You didn't forget what we talked about last night, did you? When it comes to your sister's healthcare, you aren't the one calling the shots."

Lillian snapped her head around, colliding directly with his warning glare.

"You're seriously using my sister's life to threaten me... all over some pastry?" Her fingers twitched uncontrollably, and her voice was raw and hoarse.

Brandon's cold expression and shameless words plunged into her heart like a knife. The grievances of their three years of marriage erupted in an instant. Utterly unable to control herself, Lillian lunged forward and slapped him.

With a sharp slap, the entire living room fell into deathly silence. Even Emilia raised her eyebrows in sheer astonishment.

Yet, instead of getting angry, Brandon chuckled. He reached up and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind Lillian's ear. "Alright, now that you've got that out of your system, go make the pastries like a good girl. Your sister will be just fine."

"Lillian, don't make me say it twice, okay?"