Chapter 2 Hidden Expectations

I could tell Alfred was strict with his household staff-otherwise, they wouldn't seem so afraid of him. This realization left me with a less favorable impression of him, and I couldn't help but start to keep my guard up.

He soon began showing me around the villa he had purchased outright. It was a large home designed to accommodate his family and staffed with three housekeepers and a nanny. The villa had three floors-his two daughters' bedrooms were on the first floor, while he and his late wife had shared the second floor. Since her death, however, Alfred had rarely stayed at home, often opting to spend nights elsewhere. The third floor was used for storage and held important documents, including a green safe that stood about waist-high, catching my eye during the tour.

The housekeepers and nanny left by 6 p.m. each day, so there was no need for rooms to accommodate them.

Initially, I thought Alfred treated the nanny poorly after hearing his harsh scolding. But as we chatted during the tour, I learned he paid her an impressive $20, 000 per month. Even knowing he was wealthy, I was still taken aback.

"I pay her this much not just to look after my kids, but also to cook for the family. I can't cook at all. Years of working in banking taught me plenty about dealing with people, but I never learned how to make a meal-not even instant noodles," he said matter-of-factly.

"And I don't know how to care for children either, especially with my demanding work schedule. But this nanny is uneducated and so careless. Once her contract ends, I'm planning to let her go."

He spoke casually as we strolled through the villa, but I couldn't help having my own suspicions.

"If he's so dissatisfied with the nanny, could his urgency to marry me have more to do with finding someone to look after his daughters than any romantic interest?" I wondered. "That explains a lot. No wonder he kept bringing up my college degree during our dates and even joked about seeing my diploma. He wanted someone educated and cultured to raise his kids. It all makes sense now!"

Piecing together his words and his actions during our courtship, I felt like I was starting to see the bigger picture.

First off, he didn't love me. This was a marriage of convenience, purely transactional. He was after my education, character, looks, and age, while I was after his money. Nothing more, nothing less.

I sighed inwardly as I reflected on this mutual arrangement. "I'm using him, and he's using me. It's not a bad deal, actually-no strings attached, no messy feelings. Peace of mind for both of us."

The day turned to evening, and I stayed the night in his bedroom.

The next milestone came quickly-meeting the family.

We traveled to his hometown in his car, chauffeured by his driver. There, I met his parents.

His parents were kind, just like him. Their personalities, habits, and even mannerisms bore the mark of a well-raised family. I could see that his household valued decency and integrity.

At the family dinner, his father, Sutton, glowing with good health, complimented me endlessly. In contrast, he playfully poked fun at Alfred, saying things like, "My son is lucky beyond measure. I don't know what he did to deserve a wife as incredible as you."

I knew he was intentionally downplaying Alfred to make me feel appreciated.

Meanwhile, his mother, Laura, kept piling food onto my plate.

Their hospitality was so warm it almost made me uncomfortable.

I started to suspect they had some hidden agenda. Sure enough, Sutton eventually shifted the conversation. "Grace, do you have experience taking care of children?" he asked, his tone cautious.

I fibbed, "Oh yes, I've looked after plenty of kids back in my hometown-boys and girls alike."

His eyes lit up, and he wasted no time making his request. "Grace, you must take good care of the two daughters Marlene left behind. Those two little girls are the apples of my eye."

He paused for a moment, his voice growing hoarse with emotion. "Two years ago, Marlene was pregnant with a boy, her third child. She died in childbirth, and the baby didn't survive either. It was devastating-a double loss. Our family owes her so much. The least we can do is make up for it by loving her daughters with all our hearts. Grace, I beg you to look after them as if they were your own."

His words poured out in a torrent, his voice trembling with grief. His cloudy, aged eyes brimmed with tears, making my heart ache. A lump formed in my throat, and before I knew it, I was the one crying-tears streaming down my face while his own remained unshed.

I'd experienced so much misfortune in my life that I couldn't help but feel a deep empathy for others who'd suffered as well. The saying "misery loves company" resonated deeply with me.

I was moved by Alfred's father's words and resolved to do everything in my power to take care of his two daughters. At the same time, I worried about the scrutiny that often came with being a stepmother-the fear of being judged or accused of mistreating the children of his late wife.

In that moment, I felt like a character in a sitcom, stepping into a ready-made family with kids who weren't my own. The weight of taking on such a responsibility, along with the uncertainty of how I would be received, left me feeling just as anxious as any new stepmother might.

The dinner conversation eventually came to a close, but Alfred's parents exchanged several meaningful glances, as though they had much to say but were too embarrassed to broach the subject themselves.

Alfred, ever the straightforward one, picked up on their intentions and spoke on their behalf. "Grace, my parents... well, they'd love to have a grandson. Do you think...?"

He didn't finish the sentence, but I understood his meaning perfectly. Carrying on the family line-having children-was a top priority in life, wasn't it? But I wasn't interested.

The reason was simple: childbirth was exhausting, and to me, the effort wasn't worth it, even for tens of thousands of dollars as a marriage gift.

I smiled but didn't respond. Instead, I pretended not to understand and focused on my food. After dinner, I excused myself to wash the dishes, and the topic was quietly dropped.

A few days after the wedding, I was ready to fully dedicate myself to taking care of his daughters. I had plans to step up and make sure they were well looked after. But life had a way of surprising you-the reality didn't quite align with my expectations.

One week before the wedding, Alfred and I went to register our marriage. After that, he hesitated before suggesting something unexpected-meeting his late wife's family.

This was a man who had always been self-assured, speaking with a loud and confident voice. Yet now, he was hesitant, his voice barely audible, stumbling over his words.

"I think, um, I think we should, uh... maybe we should go meet..."

He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. But I understood what he wanted-he wanted me to meet his late wife's family.

I was reluctant, and understandably so. A bride meeting her in-laws was one thing; a new wife meeting the family of her husband's late wife? That was a much taller order. Who would willingly agree to such an awkward request?

But when he promised a more generous marriage gift, I reluctantly agreed.