Chapter 16

Jonathan suddenly appeared behind me. Startled, I instinctively turned, our faces brushing. The unexpected contact made me purse my lips, and I quickly stepped back. Jonathan frowned deeply. “What were you looking for? Hand it over,” he demanded, stepping closer, hand outstretched. I shook my head, hiding the prenuptial agreement behind my back. “It’s just a document.”

“You should rest at home. Work can wait,” he said, seemingly believing me. He retracted his hand. “The secretary will take care of this paperwork.” I clutched the agreement tightly and nodded, striving to remain calm.

“Is there anything else?” Jonathan’s dark eyes remained fixed on me, but he said nothing.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back to the bedroom,” I said, moving to circumvent him. As I passed, his deep voice resonated, “You can throw your tantrums, but don’t mention ‘divorce’ again.”

My footsteps faltered. I didn’t want another pointless argument, so I simply walked away. Back in the bedroom, I scanned the prenup and sent it to Gabrielle. She replied quickly; we scheduled a meeting for the next day. After putting down my phone, I shoved the prenup into the nightstand drawer. Having a scanned copy, it no longer mattered if Jonathan retrieved the original.

It was late. Yawning, I felt tired. Sleeping in the main bedroom was out of the question. Jonathan and I might be married, but I had no intention of acting like it. The Ford residence was a vast mansion with numerous rooms maintained by staff. I chose a guest room at random and lay down. Exhausted from the day’s events, I quickly fell asleep.

Then, half-asleep, I felt a warm embrace. The body pressed against me was much warmer than mine; I began to feel overheated. I harrumphed in annoyance and squirmed, but the body behind me tensed. I tried to open my eyes, but fatigue won, and I fell into a deep slumber.

The next morning, I awoke in the main bedroom. The space beside me was cold, the sheets smooth—no indication of whether anyone had slept there. Annoyance tightened my lips. I threw off the blankets and got out of bed.

Downstairs, Hugh, the butler, announced, “Ms. Sawyer, breakfast is ready.”

I didn’t look at him. “I’m not eating.”

Hugh frowned. “Mr. Ford instructed us to ensure you eat.”

I gave him a nonchalant look. “I don’t feel like it. Are you going to tattle?”

He fell silent, studying me before saying softly, “Ms. Sawyer, Mr. Ford carried you back to the bedroom last night.”

“So?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hugh’s tone held a subtle reproach, implying I should be more grateful. “You know how Mr. Ford is. He’s shown considerable patience—”

Annoyed, I interrupted. “I don’t need his patience. Tell him to keep it.”

Hugh’s expression fell at my obstinacy. He tried again, “Ms. Sawyer, Mr. Ford left for the Zimmers this morning. He’s stressed lately because of what’s happening between you and Ms. Alicia. The Fords and Zimmers have been close for generations; he faced pressure marrying you. As his wife, you shouldn’t be so petulant.” His voice dropped. “Besides, Mr. Ford and Ms. Alicia have been close friends since childhood. If you don’t treasure him and continue to behave like this—”

I couldn’t contain myself. “This is between Jonathan and me. What does it have to do with any of you?” First the assistant, now the butler. They should focus on their jobs. Is mutual respect too much to ask? Why lecture me? They aren’t Jonathan’s father; why act like my father-in-law?

“If you have any influence with Jonathan, tell him to hurry up and get the divorce finalized. Afterward, I don’t care if he marries Alicia, B-licia, or C-licia. He can do whatever he wants.”

With that, I stormed out, slamming the door, leaving Hugh speechless.