After being reborn, I make up my mind to stop chasing after my husband and daughter

Chapter 223

Nearing the entrance, Jared’s low voice, carrying clearly in the quiet corridor, stopped me cold. “You’ve just suffered a loss, Tracy. Focus on heslye Hote isn’t the time to dive back into the fray.”

“You don’t need to return here. Your family’s business offers far better prospects for you. Amy might lack your technical expertise, but she navigates the political landscape effectively. There’s no problem.”

After a pause, he continued, “Any update on Mom and Yvonne’s flight schedule?”

“Thanks for looking after them,” Jared murmured, his voice softening slightly. “I’ll find a way to express my gratitude.”

Silently, I retreated, melting back into the corridor shadows. Only after Jared concluded his call and returned to his office did l’approach again.

Jared sat hunched over his desk, brow deeply jabbing an impatient finger at a stack of documents. At my entrance, his head snapped up.

“Meeting concluded?”

I approached his desk, my expression blank. The acrid

to him–evidence of more than a

document, Jared scrawled his signature and thrust it back toward me. “Yvonne

gaze, my own utterly

voice and features, “I understand

considered briefly. “The moment she expressed a preference for another mother,” I stated, my voice glacial, “my sense of obligation

face went utterly still, then contorted into a scowl. “She’s a child, Victoria. Childish prattle! And you’re holding that against

starts school this year. She should grasp basic right and wrong. She should understand consequences.

horrified him. “She is your daughter,” he bit out, each word sharp. “Your blood flows in her veins. How can you be so cavalier about

if I am reluctant?” I countered coldly.

motherhood so utterly,” he finally struck, “isn’t that the

hung heavy for a moment. Then, my voice emerged, colder than ice.

rose, sharp with disbelief and anger, “where did this twisted perspective come from? Who filled your head with this poison? The

woman he thought he owned. Losing his grip on me was clearly an intolerable wound

your losses is infinitely wiser than clinging to the rotting corpse of a dead

deflate, his rigid posture collapsing into the chair like a pupp strings. Angry fingers drummed a furious staccato