Chapter 3
He then pulled out his phone, found Tracie’s number, and set it to “Do Not Disturb” for messages.
He wasn’t interested in soothing her or having any more talks. If she wanted to be dramatic, that was on her.
So, he set her messages to “Do Not Disturb,” in case she decided to call him in the middle of the night trying to recon- cile.
After handling this, Grover called Agnes to help Wendi with her bath.
Not long after, he heard Wendi scream from the bathroom, “It’s too hot!”
Grover rushed to the door, his voice full of concern, “What happened?”
“Sorry, sir. The water… it’s a bit too hot. I’ll fix it right away,” Agnes replied in a panic.
After the bath, Wendi lay in bed and asked Grover to tell her a story.
“Where’s the storybook?” he asked.
“My mom doesn’t need a book to tell me stories!” Wendi replied.
Grover was speechless.
He grabbed a fairytale book and started reading aloud, but his voice was dry and raspy.
“Daddy, your voice sounds like an old duck quacking!” Wendi complained.
Grover was left speechless again.
“I really miss Mommy! When is she coming back?” Wendi pouted.
“In three days.”
“Really?”
“Of course!”
Maybe Tracie would come back on her own tomorrow morning.
Grover knew Tracie all too well.
She’d been relentlessly chasing after him since she was sixteen, sticking to him like glue, impossible to shake off. Eventually, she used the most underhanded methods to marry him.
Someone like her-how could she really go through with a divorce?
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The so-called divorce agreement was just a way for her to play hard to get.
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The reason he didn’t even bother reading the agreement and immediately shredded it was because he didn’t want Tra- cie to have any chance of manipulating the situation.
“Mommy’s stories are always the best…” Wendi murmured as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Grover went back to his own bedroom.
The next day
As usual, he got up, washed up, and called Wendi downstairs for breakfast.
When they got to the dining room, Grover took a sip of cereal and immediately realized something was off.
Wendi spat out the cereal she had just tasted. “This tastes terrible!”
Grover frowned and looked at Agnes. “What’s going on?”
Agnes stammered, “Sorry, sir. This is the cereal that Tracie always prepares for you and Wendi. She knows the right ingredients. This is my first time making it…”
Agnes never referred to Tracie as “Mrs. Stanton”-she always used her name, “Tracie.”
Grover coldly replied, “Take your pay and leave.”
With that, he took Wendi out for breakfast, dropped her off at kindergarten, and then drove to the office.
When he arrived at the office, Grover turned on his phone.
There were no missed calls.
Tracie hadn’t even bothered to call him once all night?
That surprised him a bit.
But he simply snorted and quickly let the thought go.
As for where Tracie had gone, whether she was safe or had a place to stay-he couldn’t have cared less.
Tracie didn’t need his concern.
After leaving the Stanton family, she went to the apartment she had rented in advance. She unpacked, took a shower, and went to bed.
The next morning, after a quick breakfast, she sat in her study and began working.
Contrary to what Wendi had said, Tracie wasn’t unemployed.
She’d always had work.
To make it easier to care for Wendi, she had been providing design drafts and budget plans for an interior design
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company, earning fees for both design and consulting work.
But the Stanton family had always believed Tracie didn’t work and was simply a housewife.
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Now that she was free from the Stanton family, she had more time on her hands and was able to wrap up a project she’d been working on for the last five or six years-a comprehensive senior living facility plan. She was planning to take the proposal to Slaport to research and compare with countries that were already experiencing population aging.
