Chapter 7 His Unreasonable Demand
They moved out, and the entire Harrington family elders came to see them off. At that moment, Victoria had a feeling that it was all over. Without the protection of Alexander's family, she would be alone, facing everything by herself. But maybe that was for the best.
In the most expensive neighborhood in the southern part of the city, the house Alexander gave her was on the top floor. Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, she could overlook the vast blue sea. As she stood by the window, gazing outside and contemplating how to resign, he came down from upstairs.
Upon hearing his steady and composed footsteps, Victoria turned around, "Alexander."
"Hmm, there are a few men's clothes upstairs; they're for show, don't mind them," he said.
"Okay," she agreed. It wasn't her first time playing a role, so it wasn't hard. Moreover, although the two had never lived together, he had always been very measured so far, not venting his anger on her because of this imposed marriage.
"Don't be late tomorrow morning," he said indifferently, ready to leave.
"Alexander, I want to resign," she said bravely, turning to look at his tall retreating figure. Since he hadn't made things difficult for her because of this forced marriage, how could she make things difficult for this excellent man she had long been secretly in love with?
Alexander stopped in his tracks, turned his eyes to her, and asked in a deep voice, "What did you say?"
"I want to resign. A friend needs an assistant and wants me to help."
She dared not meet his gaze anymore, lowering her eyes humbly as she spoke.
"No," Mr. Alexander's tone was very steady.
"No?" She asked, looking at him incredulously, doubting whether she had heard wrong.
His lover was already pregnant; wasn't he in a hurry? She took the initiative to leave, so shouldn't he agree immediately?
He walked back slowly, heading towards her. For a few seconds, Victoria even forgot to breathe as she watched him stride towards her with his long legs.
"How old are you this year?" He suddenly asked.
Victoria looked at him puzzled, "Twenty-three."
"You should be mature at twenty-three. Remember to think carefully before you speak," he reminded her while looking down at her.
Victoria looked at him, not understanding, and replied, "I have thought about it carefully."
"Then think again."
Victoria was at a loss.
He was unhappy, and his expression suddenly becoming cold. Victoria was genuinely confused; how could she reconsider? Didn't he want her to resign?
"Tomorrow morning, I want to see you standing at the office door. Don't let me teach you how to do things," he warned her in a low voice before turning to leave.
But even after he left, she still couldn't understand his meaning. She hadn't let him teach her how to do things, she had always been considering him.
He wanted a divorce, and she signed the divorce papers without waiting for him to ask. He didn't want to see her, so she took the initiative to resign, but why was he still not satisfied? Was it the way she proposed to resign? How should she say it to satisfy him?
Even if he could barely accept her continuing to work at Harrington Company, she couldn't do it anymore. Her colleagues said that when he was out of town, Isabella would almost always pick him up from work, acting as his driver.
She didn't want to see her husband, no, her ex-husband, flaunting his love with another woman in front of her.
At this moment, she didn't know that soon, she would meet that woman and see what she didn't want to see.
Her phone suddenly rang, bringing her back to reality. She took it out of her pocket but upon seeing the word "husband" on the screen, her heart rate quickened. He had just left; why was he calling again?
"Order a bouquet of roses for me tonight and prepare a birthday gift. Deliver it to the front of your building."
"Yes," she responded, a little dazed, but from his tone, she could tell he was treating her as his secretary.
Who was having a birthday? Roses? It must be a woman, and a woman who could receive roses from Alexander, and also downstairs... she felt a pang of sorrow in her heart, yes, it must be that woman.
——
At eight o'clock in the evening, downstairs.