Chapter 3

Josie went to work at the company as usual.

To avoid arousing Laurence's suspicion, she planned to perform her secretarial duties perfectly in her final days.

She stopped short at the door of the president's office.

The door was slightly ajar, and Rosalie was laughing, leaning her head on Laurence's shoulder.

Her body practically draped over him.

Laurence looked down at Rosalie, his eyes filled with an indulgence Josie had never seen.

Josie pushed the door open, and both turned to look at her.

Rosalie shook Laurence's arm and said, "Is that your secretary? Get me a hand-brewed coffee."

Her tone was like giving orders to a household servant.

The possessiveness in her voice was unmistakable.

Laurence hesitated, unsure how to explain, but Josie responded calmly, "Sure, just a moment."

With the divorce agreement in hand, she was merely his secretary now.

In the break room, the aroma of grinding coffee beans filled the air.

Josie focused on each step, her head lowered.

She recalled a note from the photo album: Rosalie likes Yirgacheffe with a hint of fruity acidity.

No wonder Laurence's office always had Yirgacheffe beans.

To match his "preference," Josie had grown accustomed to the fruity tang.

Her life, tastes, and habits had been quietly molded into another woman's image.

The steam from the coffee misted Josie's eyes, but she didn't cry.

Her heart had gone cold, and tears no longer came.

Josie carried the tray steadily toward the office.

As she approached the sofa, Rosalie, who had been sitting, suddenly stood up as if to meet her but stumbled, crashing into Josie.

"Oh no!" Rosalie exclaimed.

The tray tilted, and a full cup of scalding coffee splashed onto the back of Josie's right hand.

A sharp, burning pain hit instantly.

Josie stifled a groan, instinctively pulling her hand back as it visibly reddened and swelled.

Laurence immediately yanked Rosalie behind him. "Rosalie, are you burned?"

Rosalie hid in his arms, her eyes teary. "I didn't mean it. Your secretary walked too fast, and I didn't see her coming."

Only then did Laurence glance at Josie, who was hunched over, her fingers trembling from pain.

"How could you be so careless?" he snapped, seemingly blind to her red, swollen hand. "What are you standing there for? Go take care of it!"

In that moment, Josie's heart felt as if it had been doused with the scalding coffee and then thrown into an icebox.

She said nothing and turned to the bathroom.

Cold water rushed over her hand, the pain searing, but it paled compared to the chill in her heart.

Laurence knew her hands were vital to her.

When she wasn't working, she practiced sketching fashion designs at home, and he'd even found resources for her.

If he'd paid attention, he'd have seen Rosalie's stumble was deliberate.

Rosalie knew Josie wasn't just a secretary but Laurence's wife.

Yet she acted anyway, banking on Laurence's affection for her.

This hand...

Josie needed it to draw fashion sketches and chase her dreams in Eldoria.

If Rosalie dared to cross that line, Josie wouldn't hold back.

She looked up at the mirror, seeing a woman radiating newfound resolve and freedom.

Back at her desk, Josie placed her burned hand on a copy of the divorce agreement, snapped a photo, and sent it to Chris. "Chris, I've got the signed divorce agreement. It's with the lawyer now. Everything's on track."