Chapter 3

Alison slept fitfully and got up at 5:00 am, before dawn. She started making breakfast.

Soft scrambled eggs with ham and breakfast hash were the perfect combo; Jane used to make it a lot when Alison was still living at home.

The front door opened. Alison's hand, holding the spatula, paused for a moment.

Erik walked into the living room. He glanced over when he heard movement from the kitchen.

"Smells good," he said calmly. "You're making breakfast?"

Alison looked away. He carried the faint smell of disinfectant, and his shirt was wrinkled. She couldn't help wondering how he and Monique had spent the night.

In a single-patient ward, when the night got so quiet that all they could hear was the sound of each other's breathing, what had they been thinking? What had taken root in that darkness?

Images crept into her mind, including hands slipping under a hospital gown…

How disgusting. She shook her head hard, as if she could fling those thoughts away.

"Yeah. I'm making breakfast to bring to the hospital for Uncle Malcolm," she said flatly.

Erik made a soft sound of acknowledgment and walked toward the bedroom. "I'll get changed first."

Alison went back to cooking.

Erik stepped into the master bedroom to find it spotless. The quilt lay perfectly flat, and the pillows were neatly placed side by side. It was almost as if no one had slept there last night.

He opened the closet, trying to find his dark gray tie. After searching for a while, he still couldn't find it. Alison was the one who organized everything at home; he never knew where anything was.

"Ally," he called from the bedroom door.

Alison wiped her hands and walked over. Before Erik could speak, she went straight to the closet, pulled open the second drawer on the left, and accurately picked out the dark gray one from a row of rolled-up ties. She handed it to him.

Erik took it and stood before the mirror to tie it.

Sometimes, he found it strange. It was like Alison could read his mind. He didn't need to say anything; she already knew what he wanted. Maybe precisely because of that, they talked less and less. Anything that didn't need to be said was left unsaid.

He thought of when she had just married him. She'd talked quite a bit back then. She would tell him what groceries she'd bought that day, tell him the cat downstairs had kittens, and chatter away as she shared all these small things.

But he'd found her annoying and would always cut her off coldly. "Don't tell me this useless stuff. I don't want to hear it."

Now, she didn't talk anymore. She was quiet to an extreme.

Alison went back to the kitchen and packed the breakfast into insulated containers. There was one for Malcolm and one for Noah. After getting them ready, she scooped the rest of the food onto two plates and set them on the dining table.

As she bent at the entryway to change her shoes, Erik came out of the bedroom, already dressed.

A sentence teetered on the tip of her tongue as she tied her laces with her head lowered. She wanted to tell Erik that she'd seen him at the hospital yesterday, but what was the point? Saying things that they both knew in their hearts out loud would only tear away the last bit of dignity she had.

She'd already decided to get a divorce, anyway. She might as well talk about something practical.

"The doctor said it's not easy to get the medication," Alison said, straightening up without looking at Erik. "Can you say something to Nancy? I'm worried she won't take me seriously."

"Okay." He sat down at the table and picked up his cutlery.

The scrambled eggs weren't scalding anymore; the temperature was just right. The breakfast hash had the perfect texture, a fantastic aroma, and not too much oil.

He took a bite, and the flavor surprised him. He looked up and said, "This is better than what you get outside."

No one answered. The living room was empty; the door was already shut.

Erik froze for a second. He realized he had just spoken to empty air.

He frowned. Was Alison too tired from taking care of Malcolm? Wasn't the money he gave her each month enough for her to hire a caregiver?

He finished his breakfast and left the dishes on the table. After taking a few steps away, he stopped and came back. He stared at the empty plates for a few seconds, then rolled up his sleeves and picked them up. He turned on the faucet and washed them.

…

When Alison arrived at the hospital, the last of the night had just given way to morning.

Noah sat by Malcolm's bedside with dark circles under his eyes. When he saw Alison walk in, he stood and rolled his stiff shoulders.

She told him to go home, get some sleep, and deal with things at the factory. She would stay and look after Malcolm.

Malcolm was in better spirits than he'd been in yesterday. After taking a bite of the scrambled eggs, he gave Alison a small smile.

Once she finished feeding him, she checked the time. It was almost 9:00 am.

She went to the pantry and called Nancy. Nancy was Erik's chief secretary and had worked for him for five years. She was efficient and reliable.

The call rang three times before it connected.

"Ms. Carr, this is Alison," she said, pausing for a beat. "Mr. Hale told me to get in touch with you about my uncle's medication—"

"Ms. Reese." Nancy cut her off, her tone strictly professional. "Mr. Hale hasn't mentioned this to me."

Alison's fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

Ms. Reese. Not Mrs. Hale.

She and Erik had been married for two years, yet Nancy had never once addressed her as Mrs. Hale, whether to her face or behind her back. It was as if, in everyone's eyes, she had never been the legitimate Mrs. Hale.

"He told me yesterday to liaise directly with you," Alison insisted.

"I understand. I'll ask Mr. Hale about it," Nancy said. She hung up without another word.

Alison stood by the pantry window, watching people come and go down below. Early spring sunlight poured in, making her eyes sting.

After a few minutes, her phone rang.

Nancy's voice came through the speaker. "Ms. Reese, Mr. Hale has instructed me on this matter. Please contact Mr. Edward Campbell from the international affairs department."

Alison had just opened her mouth to thank her, but she had already hung up. Then, she received a WhatsApp message. "Ms. Reese, here is Mr. Campbell's contact information."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alison called Edward.

The voice on the other end sounded equally polite, distant, and businesslike. "Ms. Reese, right? I'm aware of the situation. I've already handed it off to our office in Alvonia. Please get in touch with Mr. Brad Jones. I'll send you his contact information."

"Okay. Thank you, Mr. Campbell."

"You're welcome."

The call ended, and Edward sent over a name and a string of digits.

Alison stared at that cold line of numbers, suddenly finding the situation absurd. She felt like a ball being kicked from one person to the next, with no one ever catching it and no one ever taking it seriously. Everyone knew that even though she was Erik's wife, she wasn't welcome in his family.

Footsteps and hushed laughter came from outside the pantry. Two young nurses walk in with their cups. They didn't see Alison standing in the corner, and their low voices carried as they gossiped.

"Hey, did you hear? That old guy on the second floor, Malcolm Reese, is Mrs. Hale's uncle."

"For real? Then why's he in a six-bed ward? The Hales are loaded. They could at least spring for a private ward."

"You don't get it. Mr. Hale doesn't like his wife at all. The marriage was forced on him by his grandmother. His true love is Ms. Shore in the VIP ward upstairs. Mr. Hale stayed with her all night last night."

"Does his wife know?"

"So what if she does, and so what if she doesn't? This is what rich people are all like. The wife at home is there to keep the elders happy, and the one outside is the one they really love."

"I kinda ship those two, you know."

"Which two?"

"Mr. Hale and his true love, of course. Who ships a marriage of convenience?"

Alison turned her back to them and looked out the window. The sunlight was harsh. She could hear her own breathing, soft and shallow.

One of the nurses finished filling her cup and turned to leave. That was when she finally noticed someone standing by the window. Her face drained of color in an instant.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The other nurse tugged at her sleeve, and the two of them hurried out in a panic.

"Do you think that was…"

"We're dead. We're so dead!"

Their footsteps faded down the corridor.

Alison stood there for a while. Suddenly, her phone rang again. It was Erik.

She thought he was calling about the medication, but instead, he said, "Come with me to a cocktail reception tonight. Dress up a bit."

The tiny ember of hope in her chest was instantly doused. She looked down and said quietly, "I don't want to go."

Erik fell silent on the other end. After a few seconds, his voice turned cold, laced with impatience. "Alison, you're Mrs. Hale, and this reception is for the Hale family's business partners. If you don't show up, how do you think that will look? How are you supposed to play the role of my wife if you're this introverted?"

He paused, then added in a commanding tone, "I'll have the driver pick you up this evening. Make sure you stop by Hale Manor to grab a few pieces of jewelry."

He hung up without saying goodbye.

Alison stood there dazedly for several seconds. Did she have to go back to Hale Manor as well? She didn't want that at all.