Chapter 2

Cecilia's POV

I didn't go back to the master bedroom and went straight to the guest room to rest.

Just as I was starting to feel drowsy, the door was pushed open.

Tristan stood outside the door, looking slightly drunk.

"Why isn't there any hangover soup?"

In the past, no matter how late he stayed out for business dinners, there would always be a warm bowl of hangover soup waiting on his nightstand.

His alcohol-soaked clothes would be taken off and replaced with comfortable pajamas.

Sometimes, I would even help wipe down his body.

He had grown used to it.

But this time, when he woke up thirsty in the middle of the night, there was no hangover soup, no one to take care of his clothes, and the space beside him was empty.

"I forgot," I said, keeping my back to the door without turning around.

Tristan's heavy gaze fell upon me.

After an unknown amount of time, the guest room door closed once again.

I kept my eyes open, unable to sleep the entire night.

The next morning, when I stepped out of the guest room, Tristan had already changed and was ready to go out.

Seeing me, Tristan gave me a slight nod as usual, which passed for a greeting.

"I have things to attend to today, so I won't be going to the office. Have the driver take you."

Since both of us worked at Shaw Group, we naturally commuted together every morning.

I was about to say that I wasn't going either.

But Tristan had already walked out the door without waiting for my response.

I knew what he was busy with today.

Vivian Burke was returning to the country today, and he was going to pick her up at the airport.

To pick up his white moonlight first love, the workaholic Tristan Shaw had actually skipped work, which was incredibly rare.

The front door closed, and his footsteps faded away.

I stood up and began to pack my things.

I didn't have strong materialistic desires, so I didn't own many personal belongings.

My clothes, food, and daily necessities had always been purchased by Tristan's assistant, all fitting the standard of the young mistress of the Shaw family.

Tristan had never mistreated me in this regard.

Any piece of jewelry picked from my cabinet at random was auction-grade.

The entire wall of limited-edition bags didn't have a single one worth less than seven figures.

In addition, the gifts I had given Tristan over the years were all priceless and meticulously selected.

I gathered all of these items and directly contacted the charity I regularly donated to.

"Please send someone over today to pick up a batch of donated goods. I will make a list of the jewelry and bags."

The representative arrived shortly, taking away those luxury items with endless gratitude.

My five-year marriage with Tristan looked very respectable to outsiders.

We lived in the same villa, worked at the same Shaw Group, left in the same car in the morning, and returned home together at night.

But in reality, we spoke less to each other at home than we did during a single meeting at the company.

If Tristan hadn't occasionally posted photos of us together at public events on his WeChat Moments, the public would probably have assumed we were divorced.

At that thought, I mindlessly opened Tristan's Moments page.

I scrolled down for a long time, only to find that even the few posts containing photos of us had disappeared.

I scrolled back to five years ago—even the photos of our wedding day had been deleted.

His thoughts weren't hard to guess.

Now that his white moonlight was back, she would feel uncomfortable seeing those photos.

It wasn't surprising, really. He had never had any photos of me in his phone's photo album or on his office desk, while his study was covered with pictures of Vivian Burke.

It only made sense that he would wipe away all traces of me from his social media now.

At three in the afternoon, the front door opened.

I was sitting in the living room reading a book when I looked up and saw Tristan walking in with a woman.

He clearly hadn't expected me to be home. His footsteps paused slightly, and his expression stiffened for a brief second before returning to normal.

Before he could speak, the woman smiled and stepped forward.

"You must be Ms. Vance. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Vivian Burke, Tristan's high school classmate."

Her manner was warm and graceful, as if the two of them really were just old classmates.

"I just got back to the country today, and Tristan came to pick me up. But the booking system at the hotel I reserved was having issues. Tristan was kind enough to let me crash here for the night. You don't mind, do you, Ms. Vance?"

My hand slowly clenched the pages of my book, wrinkling them.

After a moment, I looked up, wearing my usual gentle smile.

"Please make yourself at home, Ms. Burke."

Tristan kept his eyes on me.

After all, he had expected me to show some resistance, or at least look a bit aggrieved.

Or at the very least, displeased.

That would have been the normal reaction of a wife.

I ignored him and went back to reading the book in my hands.

His lips parted as if he was about to say something.

Just then, his assistant called, saying there was an urgent matter to handle.

He had no choice but to give Vivian Burke an apologetic look before turning to head to his study.

Vivian Burke immediately began touring the villa on her own, making herself right at home as if she owned the place.

Before she had gone far, a brown shadow rushed out from the corner and leaped straight into her arms.

"Andy!" Vivian crouched down, wrapping her arms around the large dog's neck, unable to hide her delight.

"You're still here! Tristan has taken such good care of you!"

She looked up and told me.

"This is a stray dog Tristan and I rescued together in high school. I stopped caring for him after I went abroad, but I didn't expect Tristan to take such amazing care of him after all these years."

Andy was Tristan's most treasured pet.

He never allowed anyone to touch him, including me.

He fed and walked him personally every day, and even carried him to the vet himself when he fell sick.

When we first got married, I wanted to help feed him once, but Tristan calmly stopped me.

"He's shy around strangers. Don't scare him."

In five years, I had never once touched this dog.

Vivian had already stood up, her gaze scanning over to the Lego castle displayed right in the middle of the living room showcase.

"This is the birthday present I gave him during our senior year of high school. He actually kept it!"

She turned her head to look at the oil painting hanging on the wall.

"I just painted this for fun back then. I can't believe he framed it and hung it up all this time."

I finally understood where that oil painting and Lego castle—both completely mismatching the style of the living room—had come from.

They were all physical proof of his deep longing for his white moonlight.

Vivian walked over to the French window. Seeing the blooming roses in the garden, her voice went up half an octave.

"Oh my gosh, he actually planted them! I told him once that I wanted to fill my future garden with roses."

Those roses were rare varieties Tristan had gathered from all over the world, and he had personally turned the soil, fertilized, and pruned them.

"Wow, and this house... I casually mentioned once that I liked French vintage, and Tristan actually remembered!"

Vivian was still excitedly babbling about fireplaces and crystal chandeliers, but I could no longer hear her clearly.

The house I had lived in for five years was custom-tailored for Vivian Burke in every single detail.

The sight of this house became so blindingly painful that I found it hard to breathe.

Vivian stepped closer to me, lowering her voice.

"Ms. Vance, I assume you understand your situation now?"

The smile on her gentle face remained unchanged, but her tone turned icy.

"The rightful owner is back. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave on your own."

She shot a disdainful glance at my stomach and said contemptuously,

"As for the one in your belly, Tristan said only *my* child will be the heir to the Shaw family."

Suppressing the overwhelming chaos in my heart, I took out the divorce agreement and handed it to Vivian Burke.

"Since we are on the same page, I'll have to trouble you to help me out, Ms. Burke. Get him to sign this."

I understood things clearly. Given the entanglements between the Vance and Shaw families, if I directly brought up a divorce, Tristan wouldn't make it easy.

And every document I handed to Tristan was always thoroughly reviewed before he would sign it.

But if Vivian was the one who handed it to him, he might not look so closely.

Once Vivian got a clear look at the cover, she froze on the spot.

"Are you serious? You're actually willing to let go of a wealthy family like the Shaws?"

My face remained perfectly calm.

"I'm different from you, Ms. Burke. You are nothing without Tristan. But my family, the Vances, doesn't care for the 'wealthy' Shaw family you hold in such high regard."

The expression on Vivian's face cracked, and she gritted her teeth. "You!"

"What are you two doing?" Tristan's voice rang out abruptly.