It was almost evening when I came back home, and I found him in the living room with Nivianne. He had his arm around her like she already belonged there. “She’s being followed by some crazy patient’s family,” he told me casually. “She’ll be staying in our master bedroom, and you can stay in one of our guest room. Thanks to the mess your brother created. Tsk. But don’t worry—I’ll move her to her to my newly bought penthouse once it’s safe.”
“Do whatever you want,” I said. The divorce was already done. This house wasn’t mine anymore. I had no strength left to fight.
He looked surprised at how calm I was, like he expected me to beg or scream. His frown deepened, but before he could speak, Nivianne piped up.
“Anika, I just came off a night shift and I haven’t eaten yet. Can you cook something for me, please?” she asked with a sweet smile, but her eyes were sharp with challenge. “Wilbert says your cooking is amazing, but I’ve never tasted it.”
“Ask the maid,” I said and turned to leave.
Her little whine followed me. Wilbert’s voice cut in, low and firm. “Anika.” That was all. He didn’t explain, he didn’t need to. I already knew. When Nivianne wanted something, I was expected to serve her.