chapter2187

With every prestigious door closed, Chelsea could only forward her résumé to small private companies.

Most were run by owners who barely understood balance sheets. When they saw her six-figure salary expectation, they burst into mocking laughter.

Only then did she realize that in such outfits she would earn, at best, one to two thousand a month.

That figure was still high because she spoke several languages and could double as an overseas interpreter.

Though the prospect pained her pride, necessity won. She accepted a secretary position at a modest firm.

When she told Jason, his expression tightened. "Chelsea, you don't need to work. I can support you."

He knew the job she had taken was painfully ordinary. As someone of modest means himself, he understood the slights and injustices that she might face in tiny companies.

"Don't ever say you'll support me again. I don't like it. I'm not useless—I can work, I can earn, I can look after myself. Being with you doesn't turn you into my paycheck." Chelsea wore a solemn expression.

Seeing her get mad, Jason clamped his mouth shut.

"Okay, I won't bring it up again."

Chelsea gave a decisive nod. "Good. We move forward together."

Meanwhile, at Rainsworth Manor, Cecilia was keeping an eye on the children while Elena was playing games with her friends.

One of the women leaned forward. "So, tell me how are Chelsea's blind dates going? I've a nephew who just flew home from abroad. I swear the two of them would talk for hours."

Phoebe flicked a card onto the table. "That girl ignores every word we say. She refuses to meet anyone, so we may as well drop the idea altogether."

Of course, Elena dared not mention that Chelsea was currently holed up with a broke nobody. Family shame stayed behind closed doors.

If Chelsea finally came to her senses and dumped Jason, the matchmaking could resume, and perhaps she would yield a husband worth bragging about.

"Chelsea isn't exactly a child anymore," another lady added, folding her tiles with a light sigh. "Time is slipping away."

A third woman chimed in, "She's only

a few years younger than Cecilia f she doesn't get married soon, it's going to be hard for her to ge pregnant t

Then, she turned to Elena with a playful smile. "You, on the other hand, are living

the dream-four grandsons already. No worries left at all."

Elena's lips curved, satisfaction softening the corners of her eyes.

"That's right," she said, almost purring. "I used to fret, but now I have grandsons— and, more importantly, my freedom."

Her freedom, of course, referred to divorcing Wren Rainsworth-liberty signed, sealed, and court-stamped.

"Exactly! All you need to do now is enjoy a life of ease," another matron agreed, clapping her hands.

With no husband to nurse, Elena's position drew open envy from the rest.

It helped that her son was both successful and dutiful, and that she herself possessed shrewd business instincts.

The others were different—still relying on their men's wallets, bound to tend husbands and children alike.

Listening to their admiration, Phoebe

felt her own envy bloom. She

longer in the mood to play,

and she

motioned for Cecilia to

seat

Cecilia had never loved the game, yet she'd learned from Elena that a card or tile could turn into

information-and information invoet

profit The ladies forever let

one

household details slip, and,

listened closely shippers of their husbands' business plans floated right along.

Sliding into the vacated chair, Cecilia took Phoebe's spot.

Phoebe, meanwhile, entertained the two toddlers, snapping photos and forwarding them to Chelsea.

She texted: "Look at these two. Aren't your cousins adorable? Ms. Seiler also has a relative newly back from abroad—he'd suit you even better."

The message plunged into the digital void. No reply came back.