Sydney’s eyes shimmered with false hurt. “Penelope, what are you talking about? I was upstairs just now, preparing a gift for Cal. Why blame me?”

At that moment, the Hampton family’s butler, George Baker, entered and found chaos. His gaze swept the wrecked villa before settling on Penelope. “Ms. Penelope, Madam Hampton asked me to deliver a message. Since your parenting has clearly failed, she will have to discipline you.”

Penelope’s lips parted. “What?”

George gestured politely. “Please kneel in the courtyard. Three hours.”

“George—” Sydney began, but he stopped her with a gentle smile.

“Ms. Sydney, no need to plead on her behalf,” he said. “You’ve endured enough with the funeral. Please take care of your health.”

Sydney had wanted to ask if Dorothy had recovered enough to discuss the divorce at a better time. In the Hampton household, no matter how much power Caleb held at the company, Dorothy always controlled family matters.

Despite her reluctance, Penelope knelt in the freezing snow.

‘Serves her right,’ Sydney thought, not sparing her a second glance as she headed upstairs.

Nancy hesitated. “Ms. Wilson, what about the painting?”

“No worries. Someone will pick it up soon. It will be returned after restoration.”

Sydney kept it simple. Of course, she wouldn’t reveal that the painting hanging in the house was a fake. The real one was already at a friend’s gallery, untouched and perfectly preserved.

Benjamin Hampton’s greatest wish had been for his art to be seen by many. Hiding it at home would have been a waste.

“Evil woman!” Timothy screamed just as Sydney reached the stairs. “I called Uncle Caleb! When he gets home, you’re dead!”

“Then I’ll be waiting.”

“He’s going to divorce you! Then you’ll be a used-up old hag nobody wants!” Timothy shrieked.

Sydney chuckled. “He won’t listen to you.”

Caleb and Penelope still needed her as a smokescreen.

The moment they divorced, a man living under the same roof as his late brother’s wife? Penelope’s reputation would be ruined beyond repair. Caleb would never allow that.

…

Caleb returned quickly. Penelope had knelt less than twenty minutes before he appeared.

He stepped out of the car in a long black cashmere coat, tall and composed, radiating quiet authority. He rushed to Penelope, scooped her into his arms, and hurried her inside. He gently set her on the sofa and began applying medicine to her red, frozen knees. His concern was barely concealed in his eyes.

“You’re an idiot. If they tell you to kneel, you actually kneel?” he said.

“Grandma gave the order. What choice did I have?” Penelope clutched his sleeve, eyes red and voice trembling. “Cal, can you please divorce her? She’s terrifying.”

Caleb frowned. “You mean Sydney?”

“Yes.” Penelope bit her lip. “You know why Timmy destroyed Grandpa’s painting? She egged him on.”

“Mommy’s right!” Timothy burst out, still tearful. “Uncle Caleb, Aunt Sydney said the monster that eats arms lives inside that painting!”

“No way,” Caleb interrupted, ruffling Timmy’s hair gently. “Timmy, maybe you misheard. Aunt Sydney has the kindest heart in the family. She told you she wasn’t mad anymore, remember? She wouldn’t scare you again. Besides… Grandpa adored her. She’d never mess with his painting.”

That last remark was aimed squarely at Penelope.

She stared at him, stunned.

“You’re saying Timmy and I made it up to frame her?” Her voice cracked. “Caleb! You’ve changed!”

The accusation sparked something in him, but when he met her disappointed gaze, he swallowed his anger. “Penny, I haven’t changed. I’ve always been this way.”

Penelope held his gaze. “Then tell me, can you swear on it? Swear you’ve never had the slightest feeling for Sydney? That you’ve never touched her, not even once?”

Caleb had always believed in honesty with her. But now, faced with the question, the words caught in his throat. “I haven’t touched her.”

He owed Sydney an apology.

“I haven’t touched her.” Sydney heard those words just as she came downstairs, one hand supporting her lower back, the other holding the gift box. He spoke without hesitation or a hint of guilt.

She smiled bitterly and stepped forward. “Cal, Madam Sterling asked if you’re free for the Sterling family banquet tomorrow night.”

Eloise Doakes, also known as Madam Sterling, had been an old friend of Sydney’s parents. After their accident, she had taken Sydney in. To outsiders, Sydney was already half a Sterling. Even after marrying into the Hampton family, the business ties between the two families remained strong.

Hearing her, Caleb, perhaps still feeling guilty, agreed immediately. “Sure. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow night. We’ll go together.”

“Okay.” Sydney glanced at the box in her hands, then at the mother and son beside him. She said nothing more and turned to leave.

Tiffany had won a major case today and wanted to take Sydney shopping. But when she learned Sydney had injured her foot, they changed plans to dinner instead.

“Syd,” Caleb called out suddenly, almost reflexively. “What’s in the box?”

Sydney turned back, wiggling the gift in her hand. “A present.”

“A present? Whose birthday?”

“It was for our third wedding anniversary. I was going to give it to you.”

“Syd, I’m sorry…”

She met his gaze with her usual clear, serene look and handed him the box. “It’s fine. You’ve been busy. Totally understandable to forget.”

She smiled sweetly. “Anyway, your birthday’s in a couple of weeks. You can consider this an early gift. Happy birthday in advance, Cal.”

‘And happy divorce to me,’ she added silently.