Chapter 4

"All you need to do is focus on being a trophy wife and reporting to me daily on your whereabouts. I'll give you 50 thousand dollars a month," Shawn said.

I was a little irritated. "Let's leave this for some other day. I can go to Cameron right now if you're not okay with it."

Cameron was Shawn's sensitive spot. The moment someone touched on it, he would get mad. "You wouldn't dare!"

I sneered. "Why are you so nervous? I'll only be going to him to talk about work."

He had no retort for my words and let me go, looking diffident. "Anyway, I doubt he's interested in you. You're not young anymore, nor are you pretty."

I rolled my eyes. Shawn had insulted me countless times over the past two years; it no longer bothered me. He didn't have the right to judge or criticize me.

He was becoming more controlling and possessive of me, though. It looked like I had to expedite the divorce.

…

On the day of Shawn's grandfather, Richard Ford's 80th birthday, he and Cameron both returned to Ford Manor for the celebration. Shawn sat beside me in the lounge upstairs while Cameron sat across from me.

I didn't expect to see Heather there, though. Shawn's expression shifted. He asked, "It's Grandpa's birthday celebration; only family should be here. Why have you brought her along?"

Cameron glanced at him. "As you said, it's a celebration. Wouldn't it be nice to have a celebrity here to sing and dance for us? She'll liven up the atmosphere."

The vein in Shawn's forehead throbbed. "She's signed to my company. Why didn't you inform me before asking her to come to the party?"

Cameron smirked lazily. "Your company? If my memory serves me right, just last month, your little studio needed Morningstar's help to survive. How about I acquire the company now? That way, she'll be my celebrity."

Shawn's face turned red with rage, but he couldn't say anything. He hated Cameron yet had no choice but to depend on the latter.

"My feet hurt," Heather said, cutting through the tension. She wore stilettos and had already been standing for two hours. She looked so aggrieved that even I couldn't help pitying her.

Shawn softened his tone. "Come and sit by me."

I was sitting beside him, though. I asked stoically, "Where will I sit if she sits beside you?"

He didn't even spare me a glance. "You're not wearing heels. Standing for a while won't kill you."

Ha. What a scumbag.

Heather smiled smugly at me. "Excuse me, Luna."

I ignored her and turned to smile coyly at Cameron. "Can I sit with you, Uncle Cameron? My feet hurt, too."

His eyes glinted as he looked at me, but his tone was cool as he said, "Sure."

I got up to change seats, but Shawn grabbed my arm. "Your husband is right here. Who do you think you're flirting with?"

I broke free of his grasp, a smile on my face. I said innocently, "Is that so? I thought you were her husband."

His eyes flashed. "That's enough. Just sit down."

He told Heather, "You continue standing."

She widened her eyes in disbelief. "Shawnie!"

He tugged his hair irritably. "Shut up."

She burst into tears and ran out. Shawn sat there and shook his legs. A few minutes later, he finally gave in and left, using a trip to the restroom as an excuse.

It looked like his mistress mattered more to him than anything else.

Cameron and I were left alone in the room. He suddenly pulled me into his arms. "Can you hurry up and get divorced, babe? I might just commit murder if you don't."

I laughed and tiptoed to peck his jaw. "I'll do it soon, okay?"

He gripped my waist tightly and kissed me passionately. I could hear the guests milling about just outside the door; I enjoyed the thrill of getting caught at any moment.

Cameron had just undone my bra clasp when the lounge door was kicked open—Shawn was back.

It looked like things were going to be exciting.