The Abandoned Wife's Second Chance (Scarlett and Jasper) novel Chapter 180

Bonus Chapter 2

(Grace’s POV)

It’s called a switch at birth. But the truth is, Vivienne’s mother, then a maid of the Hartwell family, is the one who did the switch.

I suffered years under her guardianship. Mental and physical abuse. Starvation. Overworking. Even getting pulled out from school after completing high school. Until an accident revealed Vivienne wasn’t a Hartwell.

But funny enough, finding my parents wasn’t a new beginning for me. Only the beginning of a different kind of suffering.

My phone buzzes on the side table–text after text, notifications I’ve been ignoring all day.

Then one message catches my attention.

Ms. Hartwell, this is Temple Group confirming your attendance at the executive selection process tomorrow at 9 AM. Please reply to confirm.

I stare at the screen.

Temple Group.

It was founded by my grandmother. After my return to the Hartwell, I received secret training from her for three years.

So I know more about the group than anyone in the Hartwell family does.

Grandmother submitted a recommendation 3 years ago in my name, back when she was still alive. Back when I still had dreams that didn’t revolve around being Alexander’s perfect wife.

But I’d ignored every follow–up email after the wedding, too busy playing house.

Now though…

Now there’s nothing holding me here anymore.

I type out a reply with trembling fingers.

I’ll be there.

Two hours later, I’m discharged with a prescription for painkillers and instructions to rest.

I don’t go home.

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Instead, I sit in my car in the hospital parking lot, watching couples walk in and out–holding hands, laughing, building futures together.

My phone buzzes again.

This time, it’s Alexander.

I’m staying with Vivienne tonight. You’re pregnant, so take care of yourself. I transferred money for groceries and anything else you need.

I laugh–a bitter, broken sound.

He remembers I’m pregnant.

How thoughtful.

Three years of marriage, and he never once transferred me money. Not when I sold my grandmother’s jewelry to pay for my medical bills. Not when I maxed out credit cards trying to keep myself alive.

But now? Now that we’re divorced?

Suddenly he has a conscience.

I accept the transfer without replying.

I’m not too proud to take his money. Not anymore.

Then I delete his number.

I spend the night in my car, parked in a garage near the financial district.

At dawn, I drive to a 24–hour gym, pay for a day pass, and use their showers to make myself presentable.

The woman staring back at me in the mirror looks hollow. Dark circles under her eyes. Skin pale and drawn.

But I slap on some makeup, pin my hair into a neat bun, and pull on the one blazer I still own from my corporate days.

It’ll have to be enough.

By 8:30 AM, I’m standing outside the Eden Hotel in Midtown, where Temple Group is holding their recruitment process.

The building is sleek and modern, all glass and steel, designed to intimidate.

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I take a deep breath and walk inside.

425 Points

The lobby is full of ambitious young professionals–men in tailored suits, women in designer heels, everyone looking polished and confident.

I feel like an imposter.

But I keep my head up and follow the signs to the mezzanine level, where the registration

desk is set up.

That’s when I see him.

Alexander.

He’s standing near the hotel bar with a group of his friends, all of them laughing like they don’t have a care in the world.

And beside him–clinging to his arm like a lifeline–is Vivienne.

My feet stop moving.

I should turn around. Leave. Avoid the humiliation of running into them here.

But something stubborn inside me refuses.

I’m not running anymore.

So I walk forward, keeping my eyes straight ahead, and pray they don’t notice me.

“Alex, you actually went through with it?” One of his friends laughs, loud enough that I can hear every word. “You really divorced her?”

Alexander waves the signed papers like they’re nothing. “It’s only temporary. Grace agreed. She’s always been… compliant.”

Compliant.

Like I’m a dog he trained to sit and obey.

Another friend grabs the papers and whistles. “Damn, this is generous. She didn’t even fight for alimony. What a sucker.”

“She was pregnant, wasn’t she?” Someone else chimes in, smirking. “What if she changes her mind during the cooling–off period and comes crawling back?”

Alexander’s smile falters for half a second. “She won’t.”

“Let it go,” another voice cuts in, sharper now. “Nobody cares about that gold–digger anymore.

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Vivienne’s the real deal.”

“Right, right. No offense, Mrs. Stanley.”

Vivienne’s jaw relaxes into a sweet smile, her hand resting on her stomach. “I just want what’s best for Alex. That’s all.”

Alex hands her a bottled water and fawns over her. His friends egg him on. “You already dumped Grace–why not make it official? Everyone knows you never got over Vivienne anyway.”

“If it wasn’t for Vivienne stepping aside for her, an uneducated daughter of a maid like her could never marry into the Stanley family.”

Vivienne lowers her lashes, shy and hopeful as she looks up at Alex.

Alex chuckles and slides his arm around her waist. He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t confirm it

either.

My lips twist into a bitter smile. I’m the true heir of the Hartwell family. Vivienne is the daughter of the maid. And yet, it’s as if everyone has forgotten that.

My feet start moving again. I climb the stairs, into the conference room where Temple Group’s recruiter is waiting.

The registration process is quick–name, ID, confirmation of my recommendation.

The recruiter barely looks at me as he hands over a folder. “Selection begins tomorrow at Temple Group headquarters. Eight AM sharp. Don’t be late.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, taking the folder.

I turn to leave-

And nearly collide with someone standing directly behind me.

“Careful.”

The voice is deep. Smooth. Familiar.

I look up.

And freeze.

Dorian Cross.

CEO of Cross Industries. Youngest billionaire on the East Coast. The man every corporation

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wants to do business with.

I saw him once before, at my wedding.

I was walking down the aisle when a scent hit me–rich and dark, like espresso and cedar–so overwhelming I almost stumbled.

I’d turned toward the guests, searching for the source.

And our eyes met.

For one impossible moment, everything else disappeared.

Then Alexander squeezed my hand, and I remembered where I was.

I forced myself to keep walking, to not look back.

But I never forgot that moment.

Or those eyes.

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