Anaïse patted Sean's hand, looking content. "You're both busy, so I don't want to trouble you. I know my way around, even when I'm alone."

"It's no trouble at all, Grandma," Sean replied, his voice firming slightly. "Are you treating your grandson-in-law like an outsider?"

Anaïse hastily waved her hands. "No, no, of course not! I'm just worried you're busy."

Sean interrupted. "No matter how busy we are, you take priority. You'll never be in our way."

Anaïse nodded, smiling so broadly her mouth wouldn't close.

During dinner, Sean took such good care of Anaïse that Abigail barely had a chance to help. Abigail's eyes held gratitude and admiration as she watched him. He was too good at acting; if she hadn't known beforehand, she wouldn't have realized it was all a performance.

After dinner, Abigail cleared the table and washed the dishes. Sean, who rarely did housework, surprisingly asked for a tablecloth to wipe the table.

"No, it's okay, I'll do it. Go chat with Grandma," Abigail said, clutching the tablecloth, a look of apprehension on her face.

"If I relax while her granddaughter works, she'll feel uncomfortable," Sean explained, extending his hand.

Abigail, finding his reasoning sound, hesitantly handed him the tablecloth. "Do do you know how to wipe the table?" she asked cautiously.

Sean was speechless. Her question was somewhat insulting. Ignoring it, he took the tablecloth and went to work.

Anaïse watched with growing satisfaction as Sean wiped the table, swept, and mopped the floor efficiently. Her darling granddaughter was clearly being well cared for; why else would a wealthy young master perform such chores?

After mopping, Sean chatted with Anaïse, his few words eliciting a happy smile. From the kitchen, Abigail glanced at them periodically, sighing in relief when she saw Anaïse's contentment.

By the time Abigail emerged with a plate of fruit, Sean had already coaxed Anaïse to bed. His phone rang; he silenced it and gestured towards the outside. Understanding that he needed privacy for the call, Abigail nodded. Their small, poorly soundproofed house made this necessary.

Sean carefully stepped onto the balcony. Watching him leave so cautiously, Abigail pursed her lips, suppressing her emotions. It was all an act. If she believed it was real, she'd be a fool.

Abigail waited quietly for Sean's return. As the balcony door opened, she sprang up. "Are you having a video conference? Should I drive you back?"

Sean glanced at her intently, then at the clock. "It starts in ten minutes; I won't make it back. Do you have a computer?"

"Yes," Abigail replied quickly.

However, the study was near Anaïse's room, so fearing the noise might disturb her, Abigail hesitantly suggested, "Would you mind having the meeting in my bedroom?"

"No problem," Sean said, heading towards her bedroom.

Abigail quickly cleared a space on her desk. Noticing Abigail yawn repeatedly, Sean said, "If you're tired, go to sleep. The meeting might be long."

This implied he would be staying the night, which was good news for Abigail. Otherwise, she'd have to tell Anaïse more lies the next day.

After Sean's meeting began, Abigail quietly cleaned up, made her bed on the floor, and went to sleep.

The next morning, aching all over, Abigail slumped into a chair at the studio. "Why do you look like you're dying? Weren't you getting a divorce? Why aren't you happy?" Luna asked.

Abigail sighed. "Sean and I were about to sign the divorce papers, but now we haven't, and I have to beg him not to leave. I fear Grandma wouldn't be able to handle it."