Chapter 2

After Lucas left, the room fell into a heavy silence.

Aaron was the first to speak, breaking the stillness. "Chrishell, don't be mad, okay? I didn't forget your birthday. I've actually had your gift prepared for a long time. I found your necklace—the one that means the most to you."

He was referring to the necklace that had been left to me by my mother before she passed away. I had always treasured it like a sacred heirloom.

But on the day I gave birth to Lucas—after a long and difficult labor—it was stolen. I was pale and weak, lying on the hospital bed, when Aaron held my hand, kissed my sweat-drenched forehead, and promised me he would find it, no matter what.

And he did.

But now, it was hanging around Sylvia's neck—in the Instagram photo she posted before.

I bit my lip and said nothing.

From the look on my face, Aaron must've realized I had seen it. That he had given my necklace to Sylvia.

Still, there was no trace of guilt on his face. His already dark eyes deepened further with a hint of displeasure.

"It's just a loan," he said, frowning. "Sylvia will give it back after she wears it for a while."

I didn't respond. I only nodded slightly.

I was leaving tomorrow anyway. Whether she returned the necklace or not no longer mattered.

Seeing that I didn't question him like I used to, Aaron visibly relaxed. He reached for my hand and gently explained, "She'll wear it for at most half a year. I knew you'd understand. You've always been thoughtful like that, haven't you?"

I'd grown used to outcomes like this.

When Sylvia said she wanted to feel the warmth of family, he left behind his duties as the mafia's leader and took our son to keep her company.

When she said she wanted to travel, he took over the family vacation I'd spent six months planning, and replaced me with her as the hostess.

When she said she wanted to celebrate her hospital discharge, he set aside my birthday and brought her gifts instead.

When she said she liked my necklace…

I convinced myself it had been stolen forever, that Aaron had never found it.

"…Let her wear it," I said.

Feigning a cough, I pulled my hand from his and stared ahead, face calm, eyes hollow with quiet despair.

My easy compliance seemed to catch him off guard.

For a moment, a flicker of guilt passed through his expression, and his tone softened.

"Don't worry," he said. "I promise you, Sylvia will give it back. In the meantime, go pick out another—something more expensive. I'll buy it for you."

I didn't answer. Instead, I quietly picked up the divorce papers, slightly crumpled under the cake box, and handed them to him.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Aaron, can you sign this?"

He instinctively took the folder, puzzled even before opening it.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It's a div—"

Before I could finish, his phone rang.

It was a call from the hospital.

"Hello, are you Sylvia Blair's family? She just collapsed in the street and was brought in by a passerby."

Aaron's brows furrowed instantly. "I'm on my way," he said quickly.

I stared intently at the document still in his hand.

As he ended the call, he pulled out a pen and scribbled his signature without a second glance. Then he handed the papers back to me and stood up to leave.

Just as he turned around, I called out to him. "Aaron, aren't you going to look at what you just signed?"

"I'll read it later. Sylvia's alone in the hospital. She must be scared. I need to go now." He waved his hand, and added like he always did, "Not sure when I'll be back. Don't wait up. Go to bed early."

Then he walked out without turning back, not even glancing at me one last time.

I watched his retreating figure, and in that moment, memories of countless nights flooded my mind.

I recalled how easily he'd drop everything whenever Sylvia had some emergency. And how I would sit on the sofa, eyes wide open, waiting for him until dawn.

I smiled bitterly and thought, 'Yes, Aaron. You're right. This time, I won't wait for you to come home.'