The first snow of winter had just begun to fall on Aldenville.
Flakes drifted down in silent beauty–so pure, so cold, it almost hurt to look at.
Niamh drove through the quiet streets, her eyes drawn to the snow swirling outside her window. She couldn’t tell what stung more: the winter chill or the loneliness curling inside her.
By the time she reached Verdant Lake Estates, Jonathan’s car was already pulling up to the curb.
They stepped out almost in unison, neither saying a word, not even glancing at each other as they walked side by side toward the house.
It was as if they were strangers now.
Inside, Sprague and Marigold were already waiting.
Sprague’s face lit up the instant he saw Niamh arrive with Jonathan. “Well, what brings you both here? Come in, come in–get comfortable!” His mood was unmistakably upbeat.
Niamh guessed it probably had something to do with The Thomas Group’s soaring stock price. Business had been good.
The estate had hired new staff, but the butler brought hot chocolate only for Jonathan.
Sprague caught Marigold’s eye and gave her a pointed look.
Marigold pursed her lips, clearly displeased, but she still told the staff to fetch a
cup
of hot chocolate for Niamh as well.
It was obvious–Marigold didn’t want her there.
Ever since Niamh had started talking divorce with Jonathan, Marigold’s opinion of her had plummeted. Now, with Niamh’s studio thriving, she’d become the sort of independent woman Marigold thought was utterly wrong for a Thomas daughter–in–law.
The Thomases had money, influence, a name. What could Niamh possibly earn out there that would compare? She ought to stay home, be a good wife, run the house, raise a family.
Besides, Niamh didn’t even call her and Sprague “Mom” and “Dad” anymore.
No manners, no respect–if it weren’t for Sprague’s sake, Marigold wouldn’t have let her through the door today.
“Nia, you came with Jonathan–does this mean you’ve reconsidered what we talked about last time?” Sprague sounded casual, but as always, he was all business, looking for the angle, the negotiation.
He disappeared into his study and returned with a sheet of paper.
Niamh recognized it instantly–the contract Sprague had offered her at The Sapphire Fork the other week.
“Go ahead, write in any terms you want. I’m a man of my word,” Sprague said, holding out the document.
Niamh took it. Then, in front of Sprague, Marigold, and Jonathan, she tore it cleanly
in two.
The room went dead silent.
Sprague and Marigold stared at her, dumbfounded.
Only Jonathan, sitting calmly on the sofa, sipped his hot chocolate as if nothing had happened.
“Niamh, what’s the meaning of this? Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can just walk all over us!” Sprague’s temper flared. No matter how much he needed Niamh’s public profile, he was still the patriarch of a powerful family.
How dare she-!
He trembled with anger.
Marigold, hands on her hips, was fuming too. “Do you really think the Thomas family is desperate for you? The only reason we even bother is because you’re still in the spotlight, still have some use left. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Niamh didn’t rise to their taunts. She stayed calm and spoke quietly:
“I’m here today to make one thing clear: I will divorce Jonathan. You’ll have to accept it. After all, the Thomas family would never keep a woman who can’t have children as their daughter–in–law.”
“What did you say?!”
Sprague and Marigold stared at her, stunned.
For a moment, Jonathan glanced up, but his eyes betrayed no surprise.
14:42
Chapter 297
Niamh’s hands clenched tight inside her coat pockets.
She hadn’t wanted to say it out loud–didn’t want to make herself sound so pitiful. But this divorce had dragged on long enough. If she waited, she’d only be used in more ways she couldn’t yet imagine.
So she forced herself to say it.
“But… but you were pregnant before, weren’t you?” Marigold exchanged a bewildered look with Sprague.
