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After hanging up the phone, I grabbed my passport and headed for the door. But just as I swung it open, I collided right into Julian. 

The multitude of hickeys on his neck hit me like a freight train. I knew all too well that he and Olivia had shared a night of passion, yet in that moment, I couldn’t help but feel my eyes welling up. 

My subtle shift in emotion didn’t escape Julian’s notice. His voice turned cold, laced with a hint of warning.“Jane, I’m with Olivia now. I’m going to marry her. Since you’re living here, you need to respect that. Don’t say anything… foolish, again.” 

I lowered my gaze, replying calmly, “I understand, Uncle.” 

The moment I uttered “Uncle,” he looked down at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He probably hadn’t heard that term in a long time. When I first moved into the Parker estate, I’d sweetly called him “Uncle.” But as my feelings shifted, I dropped the title and addressed him by name, refusing to call him “Uncle” again. 

He frowned, about to speak, when suddenly, Olivia’s voice broke the eerie silence between us.“Julian, I moved my luggage in. Which room am I in?” 

Julian snapped back to reality, pulling her into a hug, his tone softening:“You need to get more sunlight; Jane’s room has the best light. You’ll stay in here from now on.” 

Olivia’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction, but she feigned reluctance.“Is that really okay?” 

“Compared to Jane, I’m the newcomer, maybe I should stay in 

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the guest room.” With that, she started to head downstairs, but the next moment, a gasp escaped her lips. 

Julian swiftly caught her in his embrace.“You’re my wife, the mistress of this house. You can’t stay in the guest room.” 

“But Jane’s been in that room for so long. Won’t it be hard for her to adjust?” 

At that, Julian glanced at me.“What’s there to adjust to? She needs to get used to me being married, to this house having a mistress, and to her being just an outsider.” 

My lashes fluttered, and I forced a smile, tinged with self–mockery. 

An outsider… 

Yes, that was all I was. 

I pulled my lips into a thin line:“I’ll pack my things and I move to the guest room.” 

After all, I was leaving soon, never to return. 

This place would only ever be Julian and Olivia’s home, and only theirs. 

In the following days, I left early and returned late, spending my time at the embassy to avoid running into them. But I still witnessed their affectionate moments. 

When Olivia had a finicky appetite, Julian would cook for her. When she fell unwell, he would cancel important business meetings to accompany her abroad for treatment. Whatever she wanted, whatever she craved, Julian would pull every string, delivering everything she wanted within an hour. 

I watched silently, not making a sound. 

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While waiting for my immigration papers to be processed, I started clearing out my belongings. I packed my luggage and dug out all the love letters I had written to Julian and the photos I had secretly taken. 

I stuffed them haphazardly into a box, ready to burn them. As I reached the door, I ran into Julian, who had just returned home. 

I pretended not to see him, keeping my gaze straight ahead as I tried to walk past. But the next moment, a sharp pain shot through my wrist. Julian had grabbed my hand, as if he intended to crush my wrist. 

“Have you been avoiding me these past few days?”