Chapter 2

Mary was exhausted from all the crying. As she put on her pajamas, she saw a large bruise on her stomach, caused by the blow her husband had landed earlier that day. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she chose not to think about it anymore. This wasn't the first time it had happened, so seeing her skin marked up like this wasn't new. She reminded herself that all of this was for her grandfather, and she couldn't let him down.

When she finally managed to fall asleep, she drifted into a dark dream that suddenly filled with light. She began to see brief flashes of what her life would be like. They were short, but each one left a hollow feeling in her heart. Her life wouldn't change for the better. On the contrary, despite all her efforts, she would end up alone and without a family. Her grandfather would die in prison, and Maximus and Alexia would live happily after turning Mary's family over to the embassy. She would end up living on the streets, going hungry, unable to feed her baby.

"Ah!" she screamed, waking up.

The sudden dream woke her at 5 am. In the dream, her little one had died of starvation and cold at 5 pm. No matter how much she had pleaded for help, no one had come to her aid—at least, that's what she could remember. She looked at her arms and wondered who that baby was, and how she ended up in such a terrible situation.

For a few minutes, she thought about it. The baby couldn't be Maximus's. He had never treated her as his wife, so never touched her. In fact, he had told her outright that he felt repulsed by her. He couldn't be the father.

"Oh, Mary, you're losing your mind, dreaming about things that will never happen. Most likely, you'll die old and forgotten in this big mansion," she told herself while she washed up.

By the time she left the bedroom, it was nearly 7:00 am. She headed to the kitchen. Today, she particularly craved some coffee like they made it back home, so she put a pot on and added a bit of cinnamon to boil. As she waited for the water to heat up, Emma walked in.

"Ma'am, are you alright? Yesterday, the master sent me away, and I couldn't stay with you."

"Yes, Emma, everything's fine! Today I want to have breakfast like in my country. I made some coffee. Would you like to join me after Maximus leaves?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Emma replied, though she was still a bit worried.

Mary smiled, sensing that Emma wasn't fully convinced by her response. The aroma of the coffee she had made filled the entire first floor of the house. She poured herself a cup and went out to the garden to sit at the table outside. She intended to just admire the garden and lose herself in her thoughts. Today, she particularly didn't feel like having breakfast with her husband, so she planned to wait outside until he finished eating and left—at least, that's what she imagined would happen.

Maximus had just entered through one of the house's entrances after going for a run. Last night's dream had left him a bit unsettled, so he decided to get up early to distract himself. When he arrived, he noticed the delicious aroma of coffee and something else. Before cleaning up, he headed to the kitchen and found Emma.

"It smells delicious, Emma! What coffee did you buy?"

"Oh, sir! It's the missus' coffee. She got up early and made it."

"Mary is awake?"

"Yes, in fact, she's in the garden. She poured herself some coffee and told me she'd be drinking it outside," Emma said, pointing to the garden table.

Maximus couldn't help but look out and see his wife's small figure curled up in the garden chair. Her back was to the window, so Mary didn't see who was watching her.

"Well, I guess we'll be having breakfast in the garden today."

"Would you like me to take your breakfast out there, then?"

"Yes, please!"

"Alright, sir!"

"I'll be down in a moment. I have a meeting at 9 am, so I can leave a little later today."

"Very well, sir, I'll bring your breakfast."

Without thinking any further about it, he went to take a shower and came out as the same businessman his wife knew all too well. Mary was listening to music, lost in the memory of the dream she'd had the previous night. Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar scent of mint and citrus.

She opened her eyes, and there was Maximus, reading the news on his tablet and sipping from a coffee cup. That small gesture would have seemed wonderful just a few hours ago, but now everything was too messy. When she saw him, all she felt was the urge to cry, but she couldn't give him that satisfaction. So, she just closed her eyes again, turned up the music on her phone, and pretended no one else was there.

Maximus could only feel frustration at her attempt to ignore him, but he also understood it was to be expected. She hadn't caused a scene last night, but he knew she was upset. After all, he had used force to calm her down yet again.

"Sir, here's your coffee!"

"He already has coffee, Emma. He just stole mine. Could you give me that cup?"

Emma didn't know how to respond until Maximus signaled her to hand over the cup.

"I'll be back with your breakfasts."

"Emma, I just want coffee for now," Mary said.

"Understood, ma'am."

The calm with which Mary had spoken to her earlier was disrupted by her husband's appearance. So Emma limited her response to that and returned with a plate of fruit and some French toast for Maximus. Mary kept listening to music and drinking coffee, not saying a word to Maximus.

Growing increasingly desperate over her indifference, Maximum pulled a black bank card from his wallet, gestured at her, and said, "I know what you saw yesterday wasn't right, but you also know I don't love you. You knew from the start, and you still accepted my grandmother's proposal. So let's keep things as they are." He extended the card towards her.

"I don't need you to compensate me for the punch you gave me yesterday. Do you know what I want? Do you even know?" Mary said, as a tear slipped out—the same one she'd worked hard to hold back.

"What? Tell me!" Maximus hoped her response would be something material he could provide, something to ease his conscience.

"I want a fucking divorce!" Mary blurted out what she never thought she'd say.

Maximus nearly choked on the sip of coffee he had just taken when he heard what his wife said.

"What did you just say? Are you feeling okay? You've fought so hard for this, and now you tell me you 'want a divorce.'"

"Maximus, it's clear you don't love me, and I'm tired. I'm seriously asking you to divorce me. We've been married almost three years, and this isn't working, nor will it ever work," Mary said as tears flowed from her eyes.

Emma watched the scene from the kitchen window, not knowing what the conversation was about but sensing it was something the master didn't like. She was ready to run out and support Mary if Maximus dared to lay a hand on her again.

"Have your assistant draft a divorce agreement, whatever you want, whatever suits you best. I'll sign it today, and if possible, we'll go to the civil registry today to finalize our divorce."

"Do you think it's that easy? Just drafting and signing a piece of paper? No, Mary, if I do that, my grandmother will come after me, and you'll end up as usual, playing the victim."

Mary was speechless. Was that not exactly what was happening in this relationship?

The day before, she had found him having sex with Alexia in his office, and instead of offering an explanation, he had punched her hard in the stomach and then banned her from going to the company.

"I want the divorce! I don't care if I have to talk to your grandmother today. Draft the damn paper, and I'll sign it," Mary said as she stood up from the table to leave.

"Mary!" Maximus shouted.

"I. already. told. you. I'll see your grandmother today, and by tonight, I expect the agreement ready to sign. If not, I'll draft it myself. But before the anniversary of your company, we need to be divorced."

Maximus quickly stood up to catch up with Mary. No matter how fast she walked, her small strides couldn't match his long ones. He was furious, so he grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She almost fell, and Emma, seeing the scene, ran out to help.

However, when she arrived, she saw that Maximus, who seemed to have fire in his eyes just moments ago, was embracing Mary.

"You and I are not getting divorced! You need to get that through your head. I will never draft anything. This is your home; you are my wife, and I'm not going to let you go."

Mary was confused. Wasn't divorce what he wanted so badly? Why was it such that she was asking for it, and he did not agree?

"Let me go, you bastard! I want a divorce! I've already told you, you'll be free to do whatever you want, so I don't see why you should keep up appearances if everyone already knows."

Seeing her determination, Maximus let go of her and stormed out of the house in a rage. He tried not to look back at his wife because he knew he wouldn't hold back and might even strangle her. This girl had the power to drive him out of his mind so easily that he decided to leave immediately.

"Sir, yesterday was my fault that Mrs. Palmer saw you in an awkward situation. I was handling some matters with the other assistants, and she came in unannounced. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," Matthew said, trying to clarify what had happened the previous day.

"There's no need for your apology. What Mary saw yesterday has already sped things up," Maximus said in a serious tone, but without anger.

Mary stood in the garden, watching her husband leave. Tears flowed as if from a fountain. She had finally said what she never thought she would. She felt a sharp pain in her chest, struggled to breathe, and could only collapse onto the grass. Emma ran to help her up and escorted her back to her room.

"Ma'am, you need to rest. Maybe it's exhaustion. You've been through a lot lately. You need to try to calm down and rest. I can bring your breakfast to your room if you don't want to come out."

"I have no appetite. I think the argument took it away. Could you let me sleep for a while?"

"Of course, ma'am! I'll be downstairs. Just send me a message, and I'll come to you right away."

"Thank you, Emma," Mary said softly.