Chapter 47
On the way
to dinner, my mind was still a whirlwind, replaying the scene from earlier and feeling utterly baffled by my own naivety.
When Margaret threw that question out, a part of me actually hoped Bryant would stand up for me, saying something like, “Of course she can spend my money,” or, “Since when does she need your approval to use my money?”
But what did Bryant say? He said, “The car was a gift from Grandpa.”
That shut Margaret up alright.
a:
When Margaret made a scene, he didn’t recognize my car, let alone remember I got the car. Or maybe, he did remember, but he didn’t want Margaret to know he was actually nice
to me.
Here I was, Mrs. Ferguson, feeling like I didn’t even have the right to use what was supposedly ours. Did I really need to hide and tiptoe around his ex?
And yet, he could give Margaret a car right in front of me, coldly pacifying her with, “Come on, you’re not a child. What’s the big deal? Buy the same model in a different color. It won’t take long.”
Looking out at the city lights beginning to twinkle in the evening, a sour feeling twisted in my stomach.
To think he could just give away something identical to what was supposed to be a gift for me.
Christine, who was driving, asked, “Still thinking about what happened?”
“Yeah.”
Just knowing the divorce was coming didn’t really ease the sting of disappointment for
Christine squinted her eyes, not cursing as she usually would, but instead said, “If she really ends up driving the same car as you, I’ll teach her a lesson.”
“What are you planning?” I sensed something was off.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control. You just focus on staying healthy for the baby!”
The restaurant wasn’t far, and as Christine finished speaking, she smoothly parked at the front.
This place had been around for decades. Tucked away as it was, it boasted an incredible menu that attracted locals especially during the autumn and winter, making it bustling with business.
1/2
Chapter 47
I
Getting out of the car, I warned her, “Don’t do anything rash, okay? All I want is a smooth divorce, nothing else matters.”
“Got it, got it,” Christine replied nonchalantly, heading to the entrance to check our wait time.
The waitlist was daunting-forty to fifty tables ahead of us. How long would that take?
Just as we were fretting, someone yelled from an upstairs window, showcasing a handsome face, “Hey, Chris, come on up! We’ve saved you a spot!”
It was Steven.
I hadn’t expected this playboy to frequent a place so lively and grounded.
Christine, initially annoyed, lit up at the prospect of skipping the wait, and we quickly headed upstairs.
In a semi-private dining area, Steven and Mark were waiting. Steven, ever the wealthy heir, contrasted Mark’s casual, refined demeanor.
I greeted them with a smile.
“Tagalong.” After greeting them, Christine sat down, grumbling, “I should’ve never told you we were coming here.”
“Hey, if I hadn’t come, how long would you have waited?” Steven’s thick skin was evident. “If it wasn’t for Jane wanting to eat here, I wouldn’t bother owing you a favor,” Christine shot back without mincing words.
Unfazed, Steven grinned at me, “Then I guess I owe this to you, Jane.”
The restaurant was buzzing, the air filled with the seductive aroma of food.
Steven poured us drinks, suddenly serious, “Let’s raise a glass to Mark, the new CE the Asia-Pacific division.”
I turned to Mark in surprise, asking, “You got the position?”
And a high-ranking one at that.
Linda always told me how much she admired Mark, but it was only in this moment that I realized his capabilities for exceeded the accolades he had received.
Though the Ferguson Group was a behemoth, fashion was just a small division. Its main focuses were real estate, Al, and semiconductors.