Chapter 14 It’s Just Too Hard to Part on Good Terms
“No!”
Becky thought he was going to back out and got excited, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the
courthouse.
“We agreed on this, you can’t go back on your word. Come on, let’s get it done.”
Seeing how eager she was, Xavier shook her off out of spite.
“Quit pulling me. I can walk on my own.”
Becky didn’t argue.
“Fine, just watch your step. Don’t trip.”
She probably didn’t want him to fall and delay the divorce paperwork.
With a dark expression, Xavier showed up at the divorce registration window with Becky.
Driver Randall anxiously called Henry. “Sir, bad news-something big just happened. Mr. Xavier and Ms. Becky are getting divorced!”
This time, it really looked serious.
Last time, he’d only told Henry after the fact.
Henry paused. “They went to the courthouse?”
“Yeah, they just went in. They’re doing the paperwork. What should we do?”
“Don’t worry about it. Let them decide for themselves.”
Randall was stunned.
Mr. Henry was actually okay with Mr. Xavier divorcing Ms. Becky?
The Bolton family had never really liked Ms. Becky, so maybe this wasn’t that surprising.
There was nothing more Randall could do. He was just an outsider. He ended the call.
Becky and Xavier walked out of the courthouse, each holding a divorce certificate.
Xavier marched straight toward the Rolls-Royce.
Becky tucked the certificate into her pocket and chased after him, patting the car door. “Xavier, are you heading back to Westview Pavilion? Take me with you.”
The window rolled down. Xavier turned to look at her, eyes cold and empty.
He gave her two words: “I’m not.”
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The window slowly rolled back up.
Becky had no choice but to stand by the curb and wait for a ride.
Randall cautiously glanced toward the back seat.
Xavier’s voice was ice cold. “Drive.”
“Yes, Mr. Xavier. Um… are we going to the office?”
“Westview Pavilion.”
Becky returned to Westview Pavilion by taxi and saw Xavier’s Rolls-Royce parked in the driveway.
She nearly choked on her own rage.
Storming into the villa, she found Xavier lounging on the sofa, long legs crossed, looking totally relaxed.
She stomped over, plopped down beside him, and snapped, “Didn’t you say you weren’t coming back?”
Xavier said, “I changed my mind halfway here. Is that a problem? Oh, and this isn’t your home anymore, so stop calling it that.”
Becky snorted. “Fine, I won’t. Who cares? Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here soon. We’re cutting all ties.”
“Whatever.”
Afraid she might get so mad she’d miscarry if she stayed any longer, Becky went upstairs and started packing.
It was just too hard to part on good terms.
Once she finished packing, she called Sharon.
Sharon showed up driving her dad’s car to help move Becky’s stuff.
The villa’s security was strict, and the car wasn’t allowed in. Becky had to go out and negotiate before they let it through.
She’d gone on a shopping spree this month, and now had so much stuff that the trunk was packed full. They even had to pile more onto the passenger seat.
The housekeepers already knew Becky and Xavier were divorced.
Watching her leave, they looked reluctant to say goodbye.
Becky had been living there for a month, and she was a bit sentimental too.
But it was time to go.
At Sharon and BarryMary’s invitation, Becky temporarily moved in with the Yale family.
Their place wasn’t big-just two bedrooms.
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Becky squeezed in with Sharon.
The Yales were worried she might take the divorce badly and went out of their way to cheer her up every
day.
Becky found it funny.
She was thrilled. Why would she take it badly?
The next day, she dragged Sharon out to look at apartments.
She quickly settled on a small one-bedroom in an old neighborhood. It was on the seventh floor-the top floor-so it was cheap.
Even then, she had to borrow a hundred thousand from Sharon just to get it.
She had planned to take out a loan, but without a job and almost no bank history, she didn’t qualify.
Sharon stared at the run-down place, frowning. “Becky, is this even livable?”
It was old and worn.
Freezing in winter, sweltering in summer.
Nobody wanted to buy a top-floor apartment.
But Becky didn’t care.
“Once it’s cleaned up, it’ll be fine. At least it’s mine. I won’t have to worry about a landlord kicking me out, or ending up on the street.”
“That’s true. I’ll help you clean it up.”
Becky was broke and couldn’t afford new furniture. She just wiped down the old stuff and made do.
After a whole day of cleaning, the place finally felt like a home.
Becky went downstairs to buy some vegetables, a few eggs, and a pack of bread.
“I’ll cook for you.”
Sharon ate the plain food and felt a little sad for her.
But Becky didn’t have time to feel sad.
“I need to get a job and make money.”
Sharon asked, “What do you want to do?”
Becky didn’t know what she could do.
In her previous life, she’d been a D-list actress, scraping by with bit parts. She was the kind of person you could swing a stick through the entertainment industry and never hit.
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Here, she wasn’t even a D-lister.
The original owner of this body, though, had real skills.
Her grandmother had been a master of medicine and passed her knowledge down.
In college, she’d majored in financial management-Xavier’s choice.
But after graduation, she hadn’t pursued a career and became a full-time housewife instead.
Now, she figured she’d start by sending out some résumés.
She had brought the original owner’s laptop, stayed up all night working on her résumé, and submitted it to several companies the next day.
Soon, she got called in for interviews.
She dressed up and went in feeling confident.
The interviewer asked, “Do you plan on getting married soon? When are you thinking about having children?”
Becky hadn’t expected that question right off the bat.
She answered honestly, “I just got divorced. I’m already pregnant.”
Unsurprisingly, she didn’t get the job.
The interviewer said, “I suggest you go home and rest. Don’t bother trying to work right now.”
The rejection hit Becky hard, but she understood-this was reality.
Even women who aren’t pregnant face discrimination.
Having a child, raising a child—trying to hold a normal job during all that? It’s almost impossible.
Becky walked down the street, face full of frustration.
“Hey, isn’t that Becky?”
Yulia followed her friend’s gaze and spotted Becky.
“Look at her in that business suit. You think she works around here? I heard she got nothing from Xavier after the divorce. So pathetic. Then again, someone as shameless as her, leeching off the Bolton family all those years, Xavier did the right thing.”
Yulia looked thoughtfully at the things Becky was holding.
She said, “Don’t talk like that. She’s clearly having a hard time.”
Her friend Quincy sneered. “She stole Xavier and you’re still defending her?”
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“Let the past go.”
“How could I? Xavier was supposed to marry you. He only married Becky because she drugged him.”
Yulia’s eyes flickered at the reminder.
After a moment, she walked forward.
“Becky, what are you doing here?”
Becky glanced at them and said casually, “Interview.”
“Did you get the job?”
“No idea. It takes several rounds.”
She didn’t want them to know how bad things really were.
Quincy laughed. “So you didn’t. How pathetic! No more Xavier, no more money-look at you now. Serves you right.”
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