Chapter 9 We'll Talk When I Get Back

• Rachel's POV:
• I knew full well that I was just venting my frustrations—I had no real authority to challenge Dean.
• By the time I arrived at Starhaven Manor, my anger had cooled significantly.
• The house was eerily silent; the staff had long gone to bed.
• I made my way up to the second floor and pushed open the bedroom door. There was Dean, sprawled on the sofa in relaxed attire, his long fingers flipping through a stack of documents.
• Even though he heard me approach, he didn't bother to look up.
• I went straight to the walk-in closet and began searching for the blue-and-white striped shirt Ted had mentioned.
• When I finally found it, I paused.
• This shirt was a gift I had given him when we first married, knowing he was about to head to Baytonia for a business trip.
• It seemed perfect for the beach.
• When I gave it to him, he had merely looked at me with a cold, indifferent stare. "Don't think you can win me over with such trivial gestures. And cut out the obvious schemes."
• It was just a shirt, but I couldn't understand what scheme he thought I might be orchestrating. After that, I never bought him another thing.
• Now, the same shirt he had discarded so carelessly was the one he wanted me to fetch for him. Wasn't this just another form of retaliation?
• I quietly picked up the shirt and laid it on the bed. I was about to speak when I noticed Dean was on the phone. His voice was low, and he didn't glance at me, treating me as though I were invisible.
• I had initially planned to discuss the divorce, but it was clearly not the right time. So, I turned and headed for the door.
• Just as I was about to reach the living room downstairs, Dean called out to me.
• It seemed he had finished his call. Standing at the top of the stairs, he looked down at me with his usual frosty expression. "Did you find the shirt?"
• "I left it on your bed."
• "What about the rest?"
• I was confused. "What do you mean?"
• Dean's frown deepened. "I'm leaving for a business trip for a week. Do you think I'll be wearing just this shirt?"
• I froze.
• In the past, when he stayed here and had a trip the next day, I used to pack his bags for him.
• I never thought that, after three years as Mrs. Murray, the only thing I'd gain from that role would be his bad habits.
• I forced a smile and said, "Mr. Murray, let me remind you once again: We are divorced. Therefore, tasks like finding your shirt and packing your bags are no longer my responsibility. Please ask the housekeeper or your future Mrs. Murray to do it for you. Don't call me for these things again. Thank you."
• Dean slowly walked down the stairs and stood directly in front of me. "Let me remind you that our divorce isn't finalized yet. You are still legally my wife, so this is your responsibility."
• "Is there no room for negotiation?"
• "I don't want to repeat myself."
• I pressed my lips together and pulled out my phone, searching for Cynthia's number. "Alright, if you're so fond of giving orders, I'll get Cynthia to pack your bags. She'll be here in no time."
• Just as I located the number and was about to call, Dean grabbed the phone from my hand.
• He looked at me with a steely gaze. "Rachel, have I been too lenient with you lately?"
• I glanced at my empty hand and, after a moment, managed a faint smile. "Mr. Murray, be careful with your words. I can't afford to deal with these sorts of threats."
• Dean's eyes grew colder. "When will you stop playing these games and just be honest with me? Stop testing my patience and tell me what you really want."
• I hesitated before speaking again, "Didn't you say last time that what I wanted was Murray Corporation? Are you offering it to me?"
• "That's absurd."
• "Then let's finalize the divorce. I don't want anything."
• Dean's frown deepened as he slid his hand into his trouser pocket. "Is there anything else you can say besides divorce?"
• I was puzzled. Wasn't he always eager to be rid of me? Why did it now seem like I was the one pleading for the divorce?
• "I understand you might doubt my intentions. I've already offered to sign a guarantee. You can have a lawyer and a photographer present during the divorce to verify that it's my decision, and I won't ask for a single penny from you."
• Dean's lips pressed into a thin line, and he remained silent.
• "Or are you worried I'll damage your reputation and that of the Murrays in the media? Don't worry about that. I swear, if I try to use this divorce to my advantage, I'd get hit by a car."
• After a pause, Dean replied, "Do you really think I'd believe you just because you say so?"
• I was out of patience. "So what do you want from me? Do you expect me to raise a child that's not my own?"
• Dean looked at me with contempt.
• Even if he didn't say it, I roughly knew what he meant.
• He must be thinking that Cynthia's methods were just as deceitful as mine, and that I had no right to judge her.
• Just as I was about to make one final effort, Dean's voice turned cold. "I'm leaving for a business trip tomorrow. We'll talk when I get back."
• I immediately perked up. "That's fine. I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. Just let me know when you're back."
• It seemed there was still hope for the divorce. Hang in there, Rachel!