Chapter 3

Preston left early the next morning.

The chaos in the house had been cleaned up spotlessly.

Wyatt called me to come downstairs.

When I opened the car door, Vivian was sitting next to Wyatt.

She smiled at me provocatively:

"Sorry, Gianna. I'm also going to visit Grandpa. You don't mind, do you?"

Before I could respond, Wyatt shot me a cold look:

"Gianna, don't make a scene."

I closed my eyes, ignoring Vivian's provocation.

Only after getting in the car did I ask Wyatt,

"You didn't buy me breakfast?"

Wyatt froze. I deliberately smiled sweetly:

"You forgot—when you woke up this morning, you said you were going to buy me breakfast."

I didn't know what time Preston had left.

But after hearing this, Wyatt's face darkened. Vivian asked in surprise:

"You two... slept together?"

Her tone couldn't hide her smugness.

I didn't answer, but looked at Wyatt with feigned surprise.

Wyatt grunted in acknowledgment, his expression grim.

He had a cigarette between his lips, about to light it.

I poured oil on the fire, continuing:

"Didn't you say last night that you'd already quit smoking? Smoking's bad for the baby—we're going to start trying to conceive."

The cigarette fell to the ground. Cold fury surged in Wyatt's dark eyes, as if ready to devour me.

But Vivian laughed meaningfully:

"Really? Then I'm very much looking forward to your baby."

I smiled graciously, looking at Wyatt with a blush:

"I'm looking forward to it too. To us having a complete family."

Wyatt was visibly irritated.

His irritation peaked when Preston appeared.

Preston had his hands in his pockets with an expression that showed he was enjoying the drama.

With him were several other people I couldn't distinguish.

But judging by Preston's demeanor, they should be the other three who impersonated Wyatt.

"Wyatt, aren't you going to introduce us?"

I held onto his arm,

"Are they your friends too?"

"Preston." Before Wyatt could speak, Preston extended his hand to me,

"Nice to meet you."

He deliberately emphasized his tone.

Sometimes in bed, when Preston played certain games, he'd also deliberately call my name.

Hearing him say it now created an indescribable sense of intimacy.

Wyatt knocked my hand away and pulled Preston outside.

The smugness in Vivian's eyes grew more obvious.

She smiled at me:

"Gianna, doesn't Wyatt have a terrible temper? Only I know him well enough that he treats me better."

"Not that terrible." I smiled, going along with her words,

"He's been really good to me lately."

Vivian burst out laughing.

The others joined in the laughter.

I felt very uncomfortable among this group. Just then I received another anonymous message from that person: [Come to the back garden.]

I left half-believing, half-doubting.

I hadn't walked far when I heard Wyatt's interrogation from behind the artificial rock formation:

"You touched her? Why is she talking about trying for a baby?"

Preston leaned lazily against a tree, hands in his pockets:

"What, can't bear to part with her now?"

"She's my wife!"

Wyatt grabbed his collar in frustration.

"I didn't touch her."

Preston impatiently brushed off his hand:

"But so what if I did? She won't figure it out anyway. Even if she does find out, worst case is divorce. If you divorce her, wouldn't you be free to be with Vivian?"

Wyatt hesitated, irritably reaching for a cigarette.

But thinking of something, he put it back.

"You're not planning to divorce her anymore?"

Preston narrowed his eyes, his voice turning cold,

"Not afraid Gianna will get angry when she finds out?"

"She won't,"

Wyatt said with certainty,

"She loves me very much. She won't get angry. After her birthday in a few days, when the game ends, I'll settle down and live properly with her."

"Either way, don't touch her. If Gianna wants a child, I'll give her one. Consider it compensation for deceiving her these three years."

"What about Vivian?"

Wyatt didn't answer.

I looked down at my phone, at the divorce agreement the lawyer had sent to my email.

Before the wedding, I had thought about living a proper life with him.

I didn't even need him to love me—mutual respect would have been enough.

From learning the truth until the wedding day, I gave him chance after chance to confess to me voluntarily.

But he never did.

Three years had passed, whether with Wyatt or with Preston.

I was tired of this game too.