Chapter 3

The next morning, before Henry Foster left, he kissed my forehead.

"Call me when you're done with the checkup."

"I will. Drive carefully."

"Mm."

He left.

Andy was also taken to school by the driver.

The entire villa became quiet.

I sat in the living room, listening to the pendulum clock ticking.

Then I pushed my wheelchair into the study.

Henry Foster's study was large, with bookshelves on three walls.

On one wall of shelves were my physical therapy records from all these years.

Each one arranged by date, with labels on the spines.

He had told me before that this made it convenient to review during follow-up visits.

Back then I thought he was thoughtful.

Now I realized he just had a habit of filing everything away.

Including me.

I opened his computer. The password was my birthday.

For five years, he'd always used this password.

I used to think that was love.

Now I just found it ironic.

Every piece of evidence he processed to help Claire Shaw escape---he probably used this computer.

I didn't touch those files.

I just logged into a browser, booked a plane ticket to New York for tomorrow afternoon.

Then logged out and cleared the browsing history.

I also checked my bank account balance.

When I married into the Foster family five years ago, I had no assets to my name.

Over these five years, Henry Foster deposited living expenses into my account every month.

I never asked the exact amount, and I never spent recklessly.

After saving for five years, it wasn't a small amount, but not huge either.

At least enough for me to start over in another city.

I transferred the money to a newly opened account.

That card was one I'd secretly opened last week when I went out for physical therapy and passed by a bank.

It wasn't linked to any notifications or tracking alerts. I had the card sent to my sister's address.

After finishing this, I closed the computer and pushed my wheelchair back to the living room.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

"Hello, Attorney Reed? It's me, Evelyn Reed."

"Miss Reed? It's been a while. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing major. I just wanted to consult about child custody issues in a divorce agreement."

The other end went quiet for a second.

"You're getting divorced?"

"Just consulting. Better safe than sorry. Don't tell anyone for now, including Mr. Foster."

"Understood."

"As for custody, I don't plan to seek it. But I want to add a clause to the agreement---the father must transfer all my personal assets to the child after the child reaches adulthood. Could you draft a plan for how to handle this?"

"Miss Reed, are you certain you don't want custody?"

"Certain."

"What about property division?"

"I don't want any of his assets. Some of the living expenses I've saved over five years have been transferred to another account. The rest I'll leave for Andy. As for marital property, I'm giving up all of it."

Attorney Reed was silent for a long time.

"Miss Reed, has something happened?"

I gripped my phone, looking at the osmanthus tree in the garden outside the window.

Last autumn, Henry Foster pushed me in my wheelchair under that tree.

He said he'd planted it for me.

Because I'd once said I loved the fragrance of osmanthus flowers.

Back then I leaned against his arm, feeling like the happiest woman in the world.

"No, I just want to leave myself an escape route. Please draft it for me. When it's ready, send it to my email. Don't call."

"Alright."

After hanging up, I deleted the call record.

Then I pushed my wheelchair to the kitchen and made spaghetti.

The exact same flavor as usual.

No more, no less.

In the afternoon, Charles drove me to the hospital.

After the checkup, I told Charles I wanted to go to the mall to buy something.

At the mall, I said the wheelchair was inconvenient and told him to wait in the car.

Then I exited through the mall's side door and hailed a taxi.

Went to the airport.

I didn't collect the ticket, just stood in the terminal for a while.

Looking at the electronic board showing flights coming and going.

Tomorrow at 2:10 PM, flying to New York.

I took out my phone and sent Attorney Reed a message.

"After you finish the agreement, keep it with you. Wait for my notice."

After sending it, I deleted the message.

Then I returned to the mall and bought a tie.

Navy blue with a subtle pattern.

Exactly the same style Henry Foster usually wore.

"Charles, let's go back."

"Yes, ma'am."

Charles glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"Ma'am, you look a bit pale. Were the examination results not ideal?"

"No, the doctor said I'm recovering well. I'm just a bit tired."

I leaned my head against the car window and closed my eyes.

My hand clutched that tie.

Just like every time I'd bought him a gift over the past five years.

Except this time, I knew he would never wear it.