My Billionaire Husband

The next day was a cleaning day at the villa.

The villa wasn't extremely big; about ten rooms were spread over the two floors. Kate saw Laura working so hard alone, so she started to help her voluntarily. Laura didn't refuse this help.

"The janitor had an emergency at home and couldn't make it today. Mr. Fox doesn't like to see strangers in his house."

"Mr. Fox is critical about cleanliness and tidiness. If a new worker does not work to his standards, Mr. Fox will not say anything and still pay them as agreed upon, but he will do it personally. This is worse than a slap in your face."

"This house is very important to him. You are the only one who has moved in beside Mr. Fox."

As Kate spent more time with Laura, Laura filled her in with any information she knew, but the subject was always about her boss and his weird habits.

The phone rang, and Laura went downstairs to answer it.

Kate finished the task at hand and saw there was one more room at the end of the corridor. It should also need to be cleaned. She usually didn't explore other people's spaces, but today she didn't give it much thought.

Kate pushed the door open and walked inside. It was dark as she walked to the window to pull the curtains open. The light shone through and revealed the room's contents. It was almost empty, except for two cabinets, a recliner, and a coffee table.

There was an ashtray on the coffee table full of cigarette butts.

Kate walked across the room, but a framed photo beside the coffee table caught her attention. She bent down to pick it up. It was a photo of two people.

One, a man, appeared both familiar and strange. He was familiar because she had seen him every day, but he was also strange because she had never seen that kind of look on his face. Besides, the age difference was considerable. This must have been years ago.

In the photo, Tristan looked a little over twenty, with a rounder face and clearer eyes.

He had been like this before.

The girl in his arms had refined features, bright and smart eyes, with an innocent smile and a dimple on each corner of her mouth. They both wore white shirts that looked like school uniforms or a couple of outfits. They looked so harmonious and were surely a golden couple.

Kate's eyes fell on her little dimples. She suddenly understood something.

Looking at the ashtray, Kate wondered why Laura didn't clean this room every day unless she didn't have time to.

She thought Tristan had not come back last night. The fact was he came back and stayed here, judging from the number of cigarette butts, all night.

"What are you doing here?" A cold voice interrogated her suddenly.

Kate was taken aback. Her hand trembled, and the picture frame dropped with a clash on the floor.

She turned back and saw Tristan, who was not supposed to be here at this hour. He was staring at the floor gloomily. Her first reaction was to pick up the broken glass, but she heard him say, "Get out."

She lowered her head and saw another photo behind that one, exposed because of the broken frame. There were many people in the photo, all in army uniforms…But she didn't have time to see clearly because Tristan had come closer. His voice was like the winter wind. "Get out."

She stood up and said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"I asked you to get out. Did you hear that?" He gave her a push impatiently. Kate staggered, and her leg bumped into the coffee table.

She had never seen him in such a rage, and she was at a loss. She threw down the broken glass in her hand and ran out of the room.

Her leg hurt, and she thought it could be bruised. Then she felt pain in her palm too. Looking down, it was bleeding, and the blood almost dropped onto the floor. She put pressure on her palm and went to the bathroom.

After washing away the blood and making sure there wasn't broken glass in the wound, Kate grabbed a piece of tissue paper to press against her palm. 

***

Kate went back to her study and seemed to hear Tristan reprimanding Laura.

Since she came here, she had never heard him speak to Laura in this tone. Kate felt guilty for bringing this trouble to Laura.

After a while, Tristan's footsteps faded away, and then came the engine sound of his car, and then it was silent again.

Laura knocked on the door and came in. She apologized, "It is my fault. I should not let you help me. And the room…" She changed her mind and said, "Did Mr. Fox blame you?"

"No."

"OK, then."

Laura left sulkily. Kate pressed her palm for a while and found it didn't bleed, and then put a Band-Aid on it.

Tristan didn't return that night.

It was true he didn't return this time. And the room was locked.

He sometimes didn't come back to sleep. Kate knew it was normal. This was just a second home for him. It should be abnormal if he lived here all the time.

When Kate cleaned up for bed, she looked into the person in the mirror. She smiled in the mirror. She had not smiled heartily for a long time, and now her smile felt stiff in the mirror. She saw her dimples and sighed. They were to be blamed.

The next day, the gallery delivered the oil painting and asked where they wanted to hang it. Kate told them to put it away first. After staring at it for some time, she got back to her book, but she could not finish one page for half a day.

At last, she dragged the fat cat sleeping on the couch and said, "Fatty, let's go for a walk. You can lose some weight as well." The cat gave out a wail.

On the third day, Kate received an unexpected call. The caller said she was Jessie and wanted to see her.

"Kate White, high school drop-out, came to LA three years ago, has worked as a waitress, supermarket clerk…"

"Tristan Fox graduated from Ivy University, CEO of Chasin Group, Top 10 successful businessmen in California, estimated net worth of…"

In a private compartment of a café with excellent sound insulation, Jessie Harderson used her standard broadcasting tone to fill Kate in on the background of Tristan in sharp contrast to Kate's.

Kate, who sat opposite from her, frowned slightly and straightened her back.

Jessie smiled and said, "Don't take this the wrong way. I am not humiliating you. I am showing you the facts, the differences between you two. It is not normally such a big difference. He is not going to marry you."

Kate replied immediately, "I am not going to marry him either."

"Oh?" Jessie was startled. "You don't like him?"

"Of course not."

Jessie showed some relief, "Then you just did it for money?"

This bold questioning annoyed Kate, and she bit her lips and asked instead, "Are you his wife?"

Seeing Jessie speechless, Kate continued, "No? Then who are you to talk with me about this?" She had lived with that man for a couple of months, and she learned the sharpness in speaking unconsciously.

Jessie wasn't annoyed at her words. She just said lightly, "How can I be? His wife died many years ago."

It was Kate's turn to be surprised this time.

Jessie raised her eyebrows. "You didn't know?"

Kate shook her head.

"His wife died eight years ago. He didn't even mention this to you? Then you are just…" Jessie omitted the latter half of the sentence-just a mistress.

Found this starting point, she continued, "I saw a photo of his wife. She has…" she fixed her eyes on Kate's face and said word by word, "…a pair of dimples."

Seeing Kate lower her head, she knew Kate already knew that. This should be worked out then.

"We have known each other for about five years. If it was not because of you, we might be preparing for our wedding. The reason why he wants to be with you is because of some obsession. I will be straight with you. How long does he want you to be with him? How much has he given you? I will give you double if you leave him."

When they left the café, Jessie offered to send Kate back, but she declined, insisting she wanted to go shopping. Jessie didn't persist and walked gracefully to the parking lot.

Watching her leave high and mighty, Kate compared her to a white swan. She was extremely proud. Kate expected she would be poured with coffee or pushed hair before she came to meet her.

But she was astonished to hear what she told her. The beautiful woman in the photo was dead. And she had broken the photo frame.

Immersed in her thoughts, Kate walked into a department store.