<b>Chapter </b><b>23 </b>


    Unsure what Jeffrey meant, Timothy chose his words carefully. “It’s fairly deep. If it were in a different location, it would’ve required stitches.”


    Jeffrey nced at him, his eyes deep.


    On the surface, Timothy remained calm. But inside, he was sweating.


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    “Make sure the surgery goes smoothly,” Jeffrey said, rising to his feet. His gaze drifted over the medical instruments nearby. “I don’t want anything like today to happen again.”


    “Got it,” Timothy replied, quickly putting the medical tools aside.


    Jeffrey stepped out of the hospital and dialed Gregory. “What’s Reba doing now?” he asked.


    “She’s looking for a ce,” replied Gregory.


    A shadow crossed Jeffrey’s eyes. He quickly gave a few orders over the phone.


    Gregory acknowledged and got to work.


    Reba had no idea Jeffrey was having her followed. With the surgery funds secured, she’d begun apartment hunting. Fortunately, she found a reasonably priced ce in a safe neighborhood, not far from Samuel’s school.


    After confirming the apartment was in good condition, Reba signed the lease with thendlord–paying three months‘ rent and a security deposit upfront.


    She spent most of the day cleaning and unpacking. Once everything was in order, she texted Jeffrey: [Maple Garden, Building 1, Unit 1802. Bring Samuel’s things here.]


    No reply came, and Reba didn’t follow up.


    Around 4 p.m., there was a knock at the door. Reba opened it and saw Jeffrey standing there in a sharp, tailored suit.


    He nced around the less–than–1,000–square–foot apartment before stepping inside. The living room, which had felt fairly spacious, suddenly seemed cramped with his presence.


    “You expect Samuel to live here?” Jeffrey’s tone was cool as his eyes settled on Reba. “His walk–in closet in my vi is bigger than this entire


    apartment.”


    “I asked you to bring his things, not to critique my ce,” Reba shot back.


    She knew it wasn’t muchpared to what Samuel was used to. But she was determined to build a better life for him–one she could provide on her


    own terms.


    “Put Samuel’s things in this room,” Reba said, opening one of the bedroom doors. Then she gestured to another. “The pillows go in here.”


    Jeffrey’s gaze swept over theyout. These were the tworgest rooms in the apartment. The only other space was a small study, barely over 100 square


    feet.


    ‘Is she nning to stay in that tiny room herself?‘ he thought.


    Reba didn’t notice his gaze. She was busy arranging the items the bodyguards had brought over for Samuel.


    The apartment had three rooms. One would be Samuel’s walk–in closet, another his bedroom, and thest–the smallest–would hold her things and also be where she slept.


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    Jeffrey took a few steps further and paused when he saw the clean, neatly organized kitchen. ‘Reba doesn’t know how to cook, does she?‘ he thought.


    “You can go now,” Reba said once she finished organizing and noticed Jeffrey still standing in the living room.


    “To make sure Samuel stays healthy until he grows up, I’ll have someone handle his meals,” Jeffrey said coolly. “Don’t feed him anything questionable.”


    Without waiting for a response, he turned and left with his team.


    Reba shut the door firmly behind him, not bothered by his remarks. Jeffrey knew everything about her, except for one thing–she knew how to cook, and she was pretty good at it.


    Back when they first married, she’d excitedly prepared a meal for him once. But she’d identally cut her finger–a one–in–a–million mishap–and from that day on, he never let her near the kitchen again, convinced she was helpless.


    But none of that mattered anymore. Now, all Reba cared about was making money.


    Since none of the résumés she’d sent out had gotten any replies, Reba suspected Jeffrey was behind it. Left with no other options, she started looking into part–time work.


    That same afternoon, she managed to schedule an interview for a private dance instructor position. Even though she’d been a stay–at–home wife during her marriage, she’d never given up on her lifelong passions–dancing and painting.


    The interview was set in Jsburg’s most upscale neighborhood. A resident there was looking for one–on–one tutors for their children. At least here, she figured, she wouldn’t have to worry about Jeffrey pulling any tricks.


    The person who’d hired her wasn’t Jeffrey, but he was pretty much cut from the same cloth.


    Following a servant inside the vi, Reba stepped into the garden. There, she saw a refined, gentle–looking man ying with a child around four or five years old. Her mind went nk for a second.


    “Stephen?” she blurted out, wondering, ‘What is he doing here?‘


    “You’re here. Please,e in,” Stephen greeted her warmly, a soft smile on his strikingly handsome face.


    Reba felt a wave of awkwardness but nodded politely.


    Stephen handed the little girl, Emily Reed, over to a servant and walked inside with Reba.


    He was wearing a light gray suit today, silver–rimmed sses resting on his nose–the picture of elegance and sophistication.


    But Reba knew better. The kinder he appeared on the surface, the more ruthless his methods were behind the scenes.


    “Have a seat,” Stephen said, gesturing toward the living room sofa. Once Reba was seated, he asked casually, “Would you like something to drink? Some juice, perhaps? I remember <i>you </i>used to enjoy fresh–squeezed juice at home.”


    Reba tensed slightly. “Anything is fine.”


    Stephen instructed a servant to bring drinks.


    An awkward silence fell over the room.


    Reba held her breath for a moment. Trying to ease the tension, she spoke up, “Is it your child who needs a dance teacher?”


    “Not mine. It’s Emily, Lucas’s kid,” Stephen replied gently, his tone warm. “He had an urgent matter to attend to, so he asked me to help interview the candidates.”


    “I see,” Reba nodded. ‘That makes sense. Stephen isn’t married. How could he have a child?‘ she thought.


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    Stephen’s gaze drifted to her hands, which were subtly fidgeting. With a light, almost teasing tone, he remarked, “You seem a bit nervous.”


    Reba forced an awkward smile. She wasn’t just nervous–she was downright scared.


    “With your skills, teaching Emily won’t be a problem at all. I’ll speak to Lucaster,” Stephen said kindly, his voice smooth and reassuring “Don’t worry.”


    Reba’s heart was still racing. “Thank you.”


    “I heard about you and Jeffrey,” Stephen brought up the divorce. “This time, he went too far. If you need any help, just let me know<i>.</i><i>” </i>


    “Okay, thanks,” Reba replied, keeping her responses brief and guarded.


    Stephen reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card. His slender fingers held it out toward her. “Take this. It’s not much, but it should help you


    through this rough patch.”


    “Thanks, but no need,” Reba said right away.


    Taking money from Jeffrey would only lead to more humiliation, while epting anything from Stephen could bring unexpected trouble. She didn’t dare