Untouchable After the Divorce：The Billionaire's Regret

Chapter 2

There were twenty-five days left until my departure.

After getting "frightened" in the study that day, Valerie naturally used her fear of being alone as an excuse to move into the penthouse's guest room.

At 2 AM, a dim wall lamp cast a yellow glow in the bathroom.

I gripped the edge of the sink, my stomach churning violently. Having barely eaten all day, I could only dry-heave a few mouthfuls of sour bile. The faucet was running, the cold water splashing against the basin to mask my heavy breathing.

Hurried footsteps came from the corridor. The bathroom door was pushed open.

Julian stood in the doorway wearing his bathrobe. Seeing me looking so weak as I leaned against the sink, his brow immediately furrowed.

He took two steps closer, reaching for his phone on the counter while asking, "Why are you throwing up like this? I'll have Dr. Lee come over right away."

Crash!

Before he could dial, a muffled sound of glass shattering came from downstairs. Following right after was Valerie's piercing scream.

Julian's hand paused abruptly. He turned his head, his gaze instantly shooting out the door.

Looking at his anxious profile, I reached out and shut off the faucet. Bracing against the sink, I stood up straight. "No need for a doctor. It's just a bad stomach from dinner. Go check on her."

Even if he didn't leave, I couldn't let Dr. Lee come. A blood test would immediately expose my pregnancy. Until my departure procedures were fully sorted, I couldn't let him notice any anomalies.

Hearing my words, Julian didn't show a single trace of hesitation. He put his phone back.

"There's stomach medicine in the drawer. Take two pills and go back to bed," he said, turning around swiftly and striding toward the door. "Valerie is afraid of the dark. I need to go down and see."

He left without hesitation, not even pausing for a fraction of a second.

I looked at my pale face in the mirror.

Actually, if he had just looked closely, he would have realized my current state was nothing like an ordinary stomach ache. But his mind was completely consumed by the person downstairs; he didn't even have the patience to ask one more question.

I pulled out a tissue and wiped the corner of my mouth. What disgusted me right now wasn't just the morning sickness, but his sense of entitlement.

The next morning.

I sat at the dining table, sorting today's mail by category. From the bottom of the pile, I pulled out an envelope bearing the gold-stamped crest of the International Fragrance Guild (IFG).

It was the final confirmation letter from the Paris headquarters.

Julian pulled out a chair and sat down. He picked up his black coffee, his eyes sweeping over the envelope in my hand, catching sight of the logo.

"Going to France?" he asked flatly. "Is the Vance Group's underground lab not enough for you to mess around in? What can you even do at the IFG? Run errands and do grunt work for those senior perfumers?"

I looked at his blatant mockery. I had spent three years incognito, fixing formulas for the group. In his eyes, I was probably only fit to be an errand-running assistant in the lab.

I didn't bother explaining to him that this was an admission letter for the IFG's supreme rating channel.

I folded the letter, tucked it directly into my handbag, and calmly replied, "Just going out for a change of scenery."

The sound of slippers treading on the rug echoed from the hallway.

Valerie walked over wearing an oversized silk nightgown. Without even looking at me, she walked straight to Julian and leaned her hands on the table.

"Julian," Valerie looked at him, her tone carrying a hint of aggrieved testing, "can we clear out the basement? I bought too many clothes in Paris, and there's simply no room in the guest room's walk-in closet."

That basement held all of my perfume drafts from the past three years, along with the complete manuscript of 'Starfall' that I was preparing to take to Paris. It was the only place in this house that truly belonged to me.

Julian set down his coffee cup and casually replied, "I'll have the butler clear half of it out later."

Just like that, he threw my life's work out onto the street without a second thought.

I lowered my eyes, picked up my handbag, and stood up without objecting. If even my last foothold in this house was to be stripped away, then I no longer needed to force myself to wait until the very last day.

I walked straight out of the dining room, took out my phone, and unhesitatingly moved my originally booked flight forward by three days.

Since I had already gotten the first signature, the subsequent thirty-day judicial separation process would advance automatically even if I left the country early.

The duration couldn't be shortened by a single day, but right now, I didn't want to stay here for a single second longer.