**Chapter 10** The afternoon sun spilled light across the courtyard as Millie, with a heart as resolute as steel, cast a cold glance over her shoulder. As she walked away, her voice was steady, “I feel sorry for Miss Simpson. But that’s all.” The words hung in the air, cutting through the murmurs of the onlookers like a knife. Not far behind, someone piped up, blissfully ignorant, “So, are you friends with her?” Millie’s laughter, sharp and short, pierced through the tension. “Friends? No. I wouldn’t call someone clinging to my husband a friend.” Her voice dripped with disdain as she waved casually to Alexia, who had just parked, her engine still rumbling. “Millie!” Brandon’s angry shout rang out, his face a mask of fury, red as a ripe tomato against the backdrop of a bustling crowd. Yet, Millie refused to cower; she held her head high and continued her march forward, unyielding. Alexia emerged from the car, striding toward her friend with an air of confidence, a scoff escaping her lips as they walked away. “You’d think they were the married couple chasing away the home-wrecker. Honestly, the whole scene is utterly ridiculous.” Vivian, caught off guard, opened her mouth to retort. “You…” But before she could gather her thoughts, Alexia cut in sharply. “What? Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong. If you’re planning to unleash the press on me, then do your worst. I've got nothing to hide.” Each word was like a challenge hurled into the gathering storm. Vivian's complexion paled even further, fear washing over her features as if she had just seen a ghost, her breath hitching in her throat. Around them, reporters buzzed like a swarm of bees, voices clashing in a cacophony of excitement and friction. With a firm hand on Millie's back, Alexia ushered her into the car, not sparing a single glance back at the chaos they'd left. “Don’t worry,” she reassured, a mischievous glint in her eye. “She’s definitely putting on a show. I’ve seen enough of these scams to spot a faker in a heartbeat.” Millie offered a small smile, though a flicker of concern still shadowed her gaze. “I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about you. What if all this mess spills over into your work?” At a red light, Alexia leaned back in her seat, a grin spreading across her face as she nudged Millie lightly. “Let’s not forget, my dad’s the director of the hospital.” The ease in her voice was infectious. Millie raised an eyebrow, skeptical yet intrigued. “The same dad you swore you’d never speak to again?” Alexia shrugged, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “You never know when a connection can come in handy. Honestly, sometimes I wish the influential folks out there were all my fathers.” Their laughter broke the tension, a welcome reprieve that filled the air around them. As the light turned green, the car surged ahead, and the city zipped by in a blur. “I’ve got the afternoon free,” announced Alexia, her voice chirpy as she stretched her arms above her head. “Whatever you need, I’m all in.” Millie shifted in her seat, her expression growing cunning as a sly grin crept onto her face. “Perfect! I actually need help with something.” “What is it?” Alexia’s curiosity piqued, her eyes alight with interest. “Help me move.” Millie grasped Alexia’s wrist, her grip firm and decisive. “There's no backing out now.” With a groan of playful reluctance, Alexia capitulated. Before long, they found themselves at the house Millie had once shared with Brandon, surrounded by a flurry of movers ready to haul her possessions away. It was a home that had come together swiftly after their hasty wedding, a sanctuary that had always felt like a fleeting illusion. But to Millie, it was a paradox of warmth and loneliness—a canvas she’d tried to fill with love. As Alexia skillfully directed the movers, Millie wandered through the rooms, her fingertips ghosting lightly over each object, every memory clinging like dust. On a shelf, she caught sight of a familiar bottle—Chanel No. 5—the first gift Brandon had ever given her. It arrived fresh from a business trip, he’d come straight from the airport, his excitement palpable. In her mind’s eye, she replayed that moment: the way he had pulled her into his arms, their kisses filled with urgency, each one a promise of youthful love. In those days, everything seemed infinite, alive with possibility. But now, as she stood among the remnants of what had once been, the weight of nostalgia pressed heavily upon her heart.