Chapter 189

“What are you going to do?” Marlon asked urgently.

“There’s something I need to get before I leave,” I replied, turning to meet his gaze. Knowing I couldn't kill my enemy immediately, I planned to go abroad, build a career, and then return to make them pay. Before leaving, however, there was one last thing I needed to do; otherwise, I wouldn't find peace.

Dylan quickly grasped my intention. “Yvonne, have you decided to leave Elysiumville?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

Marlon, who had just relaxed, immediately grew worried again. “What is it? I’ll get it for you!”

“No,” I refused instantly, my eyes distant. “I want to go myself.” I desperately wanted to obtain the divorce agreement. Only then could I truly end my ten-year infatuation.

Half an hour later, I entered Rosy House through the back door. My current status made entering through the front door too risky. Fortunately, I knew Rosy House well. Borrowing a black hoodie from Marlon, I easily slipped inside.

It was three o'clock in the morning; everyone was asleep except for a few night-shift servants. I avoided them, but overheard their conversation.

One guard said, “Mrs. Parker has been gone so long. I miss her.”

Another chimed in, “Me too. She was so kind. She even let us eat the same food as her, and never scolded us, even when we made mistakes…”

Another added, “Yes, I wanted to keep Mrs. Parker’s belongings as a memento, but Mr. Parker threw them all away…”

“How can Mr. Parker like Joanna? I really don’t understand,” someone else exclaimed.

“There’s no accounting for taste, is there?” another replied.

“But I just miss Mrs. Parker so much…” a final voice sighed.

Their conversation brought tears to my eyes. I longed to say goodbye, but my deep-seated hatred kept me hidden in the shadows. I wiped my eyes, reminding myself of my purpose.

Since Hayden was remarrying, he must have signed the divorce agreement I'd left. A divorce certificate would have been ideal, but the agreement sufficed.

Chapter 150

I went to the living room and opened the cabinet under the coffee table, but couldn’t find what I wanted. Could Hayden have moved it to his study? He usually worked there.

With that thought, I avoided the servants and headed upstairs. Passing the hallway, I was surprised to find a white piano in the previously empty space. Hayden disliked pianos; how could this be? Then Joanna came to mind. Hadn't Hayden bought a piano at auction and given it to her? Likely to please her…

A cold smile touched my lips, yet a faint ache resonated in my heart—a physical response, perhaps. Even now, hating Hayden, the thought of him still caused me pain.

Taking a deep breath to quell the discomfort, I slowed my pace and approached the study. The light was on; I couldn't guess how long Hayden would be working. Then, a conversation drifted from within:

“Wine… Bring me some more wine…”

“Mr. Parker, you can’t drink anymore. You’re drunk,” Rita pleaded.

Hayden ignored her, slapping the table, and shouting, “Go get it!”

“Yes,” Rita whispered, wiping away tears before retreating.

I quickly retreated into the shadows. After she left, silence fell over the study. I peeked inside and saw Hayden asleep at his desk. Rita could return any minute, so I had to hurry.

Tiptoeing inside, I found empty wine bottles strewn across the floor. Had Hayden drunk all of this? I frowned. Hayden had never been a heavy drinker or smoker. He rarely drank, and never allowed himself to become intoxicated. He'd once told Nevin that alcohol clouded judgment, requiring a clear head at all times. Those words echoed in my ears. Why the sudden change? He'd broken his wedding vows; this seemed insignificant in comparison. Was he celebrating his upcoming remarriage?

I shook my head, dismissing the thought, and began searching the desk. Among a pile of black folders, a kraft paper document suddenly appeared. My heart leaped—was this the agreement I’d left?

Quickly retrieving and opening it, I saw my and Hayden’s signatures. The weight on my heart finally lifted. Carefully taking a copy, I folded it and pocketed it, turning to leave.

A delirious mumble stopped me: “Yvonne… don’t go… go…”

The words struck my ears and heart, shaking me instantly. I froze, wondering if he was awake. This was a problem. Gritting my teeth, I turned, planning my response, but saw Hayden’s eyes were still closed.

Relief washed over me, but a faint sadness returned. Hayden lay quietly on his desk, his brow furrowed, as if burdened by worry. His face was thinner, his chin sharper, dark circles under his eyes. The news reported his hasty remarriage—he must have found someone he truly loved. If so, why did he look so despondent? And all those wine bottles…

I recalled our first meeting—his vibrant energy, his princely charm even in a simple white shirt. Just looking at him made my heart race. That's when I understood the true feeling of a racing heart for one's crush. I'd been completely smitten, willing to give my life for him.

My once naive, passionate love had finally ended. I took two steps forward, my fingertips lightly brushing his brow. His body heat startled me. Was I reluctant to leave him? Perhaps not him, but the youth I’d poured into those years.

Lost in thought, Hayden suddenly opened his eyes. Those deep black eyes met mine.