Housewife Gone Wild

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

of cigarettes clung heavily to him–evidence of more than a brief smoke break.

glancing at the document, Jared scrawled his signature and thrust it back toward me. “Yvonne returns tomorrow afternoon.

my own utterly

voice and features, “I understand

a preference for another mother,” I stated, my voice glacial,

a scowl. “She’s a child, Victoria. Childish prattle! And you’re holding

perhaps not,” I conceded, my tone deceptively mild. “But she starts school this year. She should grasp basic right and wrong. She should

is your daughter,” he bit out, each word sharp. “Your blood flows in her veins.

countered coldly. “Would that change

he finally struck, “isn’t

emerged, colder than ice. “Failure? Divorce? Letting go? That isn’t failure, Jared. That’s excising a mistake.

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

he thought he owned. Losing his

much: cutting your losses

rigid posture collapsing into the chair like a pupp strings. Angry fingers drummed a furious staccato on the polished wood. “Fine.

memory ambushed me: my former self, the ultimate fool. Denied even the catharsis of rage,