Olivia posted an update on her Instagram Feed, "Finally, I'm able to see Mr. Hernandez's sleeping face out in the open."

It was complemented with a photo of Donald sleeping while lying on the bed. His messy hair and high nose bridge were catching the light.

I immediately liked the post and left a comment, "There is no need to rush showing off. Wait until our divorce, then you can flaunt him all you want.”

Less than a minute later, the post vanished.

Olivia sent me a private message. However, in her apology, there was a thinly veiled smugness, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Don't you know that women need to be a bit more gracious? If you can’t win back a man’s heart, at least don’t make him hate you.”

"I'll tell you what … seeing you're so pitiful, how about I let him come home to you tomorrow morning? You two barely meet each other once a week. You'd better make the most of it tomorrow."

I facepalmed and saved our chat screenshots without a hint of emotion. If we ended up in court, these would serve as evidence of Donald’s affair.

After I tossed Olivia's necklace into the trash, I started to contact divorce lawyers to discuss property division in a calm manner.

The lawyer asked, “Mrs. Hernandez, are you sure about this? Do you really want to file for divorce?”

"A husband and wife are bound by love for life. It’s always best to settle amicably. Once it goes to court, there’s no turning back," he advised.

I hesitated because I knew that divorce was not as simple as signing a paper. Even if I no longer wanted to stay with Donald, I still did not want to leave and burn the bridges.

The next morning, as expected, Donald came home. I did not ask him where he had been the night before and he did not seem too keen on explaining.

He quietly took a bowl, filled it with porridge, grabbed one of the meat sandwiches that was brimmed with filling from the table and started eating his breakfast.

He acted as if the last night's argument had never happened. He even casually remarked, “No matter where I eat, nothing tastes quite right. My wife’s home cooking is always the best.”

I had spent hours studying recipes and practicing dishes, all in the hope of getting him to eat just a little bit more. Yet in the end, all I ever got from him was a comment about how I smelled like kitchen grease.

I did not say anything.

When he noticed the necklace in the trash, he looked irritated.

I did not know what was going on inside his head but for some reason, he managed to hold back his temper and only mocked, “Are you still mad?”

“Well, I got kicked out of my own house last night and I’m not even mad. What’s your excuse?” he asked.

I didn’t bother to correct him. It did not matter whether he had left on his own or because I had pushed him out the door to spend the night at his assistant’s house.

I simply said, “I’m not mad.”

He scoffed. “You threw away her gift and you’re still saying you’re not mad?”

He shamelessly took the last meat sandwich. He did not even care that the breakfast that I prepared was only meant for one person.

“Throw it away if you want. It’s not like it’s worth anything," he sneered.

So, he knew that it was a cheap trinket.

Unfazed, he instructed me, “Even if you didn’t like the gift, you should at least have some manners. Olivia went out of her way to help me yesterday and she’s heard you’re quite the cook. She really looks forward to tasting them. How about you make a batch of sandwiches for me to bring to the office for her?”

I put down my spoon. “Do it yourself if you want it. I’m not making anything.”

He frowned. “She’s willing to let it go and you’re still hung up on it? It’s just a batch of sandwiches. It’s not a big deal to make them. You’re home all day with nothing to do, while she’s feeling hungry early in the morning.”

I replied coldly, “If she’s hungry, that’s not my problem. I’m not her mother.”

"Besides, if you have time to talk some nonsense, you'd have time to sign the agreement that I gave you last night." Then I handed him the divorce papers that I got from the living room.

Without even looking at them, Donald tore them up.

“Stop throwing this in my face! My patience with you has limits. Why can’t you just get along with my assistant?”

“Olivia is my assistant. It’s normal for her to be close to me. Besides, she helps a lot with work. You could learn a thing or two from her and make my life a little easier!”

He grabbed his coat from the sofa. “I can see that you’re not thinking clearly. I’m not discussing this with you right now. Figure it out when you’ve come to your senses.”

He left without a second thought.

That was because in his eyes, whether I did something or not, I was always in the wrong. I was nothing but a jobless sullen woman to him.

I knew I was not worse than Olivia but Donald refused and could not see that.

He had long forgotten all the struggles that we had faced together to build everything.

Around noon, Donald suddenly sent me a message, "I’m bringing some friends home for dinner tonight. So, you'd better cook something nice.”

I hesitated for a moment. I did not want to get more entangled with him, but I also did not want to cause any trouble in front of his friends. So, I prepared the dinner that he asked for.

While I was still busy in the kitchen, making the soup I heard voices of unfamiliar men and women coming from the entrance.

I rushed over to check only to see Olivia enter my house with a group of strangers.

Seeing me wearing an apron, one of the women asked, "Olivia, is this your housekeeper? She is so young!"

Another person asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “Hey, where are the shoe covers? Hurry up and get them. These gifts are heavy. Come and bring them inside.”

"Really lack of manner!"

I was about to ask them to leave, but Olivia quickly intervened. “Isabela, we’re expecting guests today. Mr. Hernandez must have mentioned it to you, right? So, hurry up and bring these things inside, otherwise, if Mr. Hernandez knows about this, he might get upset."

I was not sure if these few people were the friends that Donald had met recently, so I held back my temper and took their gifts inside.

I vaguely heard someone behind me say, “Olivia, your housekeeper has a high temper. Anyone would think she’s the lady of the house.”

Olivia’s face was lit up with smugness as she raised her voice, “Don’t say that! What if she refuses to cook again?”

When I returned to the kitchen, Olivia followed me in, "Isabela, I brought some friends over to your house today. I hope you don't mind, do you?"

I looked at the smug smile on Olivia's and everything clicked in my mind.

"So, they are your friends, huh?" I asked.

Olivia casually flicked her hair. "Yes. Mr. Hernandez said that I had been wronged last night, so he wanted to bring you to apologize to me."

"He even bought me breakfast this morning and he asked me out for dinner. However, I had already made plans with my friends. How could I stand them up? So, Mr. Hernandez proposed to bring my friends with me here to taste your cooking skills as a way for you to apologize to me."

Seeing her triumphant expression, my grip on the soup ladle tightened.

After getting her fill of my pained expression, Olivia asked, “Where’s the fruit? Oh, you’ve already prepared it? Then I’ll go ahead and serve it.”

As she walked past, she whispered into my ear, “Thank you for the hard work, old woman.”

The moment she left, I slammed the ladle to the floor and pulled out my phone to call Donald.

Just as I dialed his number he walked in from the front door.

He ended the call before it even rang, asking, “You’re all here already? Didn’t you say you'd come half an hour later?”

Olivia smiled sweetly. “As guests, we shouldn’t arrive late, so we came a bit early.”

Donald responded with a gentle smile and said, "Birds of a feather flock together. Your friends are just like you. They are considerate and thoughtful."

One of them greeted him, “You must be Mr. Hernandez, right? Olivia, you’re so lucky!”

He did not deny it and, after exchanging a few pleasantries with them, he joined me in the kitchen.

Calmly, he picked up the ladle I had thrown to the floor. “Why are you so careless? There are guests at home, don’t embarrass yourself.”

Through gritted teeth, I retorted, "If I want to embarrass myself, it would have happened a long time ago. Why do I have to wait until tonight? What are you doing here in the kitchen? Are you watching me, the housekeeper, to cook? Shouldn't you as the man of the house be entertaining guests with the lady of the house?"

His brow furrowed. “What nonsense are you spouting? Olivia and I are innocent!”

“Ha!” I sneered.

"You're both so innocent enough to be sharing the same bed? Do you think I am an idiot?"

He turned on his heel to leave. “I don’t want to argue with you now. You’d better behave and treat our guests well tonight.”

After I finished cooking, Donald asked me to join them at the table.

Everyone looked surprised and Olivia’s expression changed instantly. She quickly added, “Isabel, you’ve been busy all afternoon. Please, join us for dinner.”

She was calm and natural, playing the part of a gracious hostess, inviting the grumpy housekeeper to sit down for a meal.

Donald seemed to know that I was just about to make a sarcastic remark because he quickly intervened, “Yes, you’ve really gone out of your way today. These are Olivia's friends, so they’re my friends now too. From now on, let’s all get to know each other.”

Olivia raised her glass, smiling brightly at me. “I’m grateful to Mr. Hernandez for inviting me to his home and I also want to thank Isabel for preparing this lovely dinner.”

"The first toast is for you, Isabela. I hope you’ll do me the honor.”

From the moment she walked in, she’d been dripping with hostility and her words carried a double meaning.

Without looking up, I said, “No need. I don’t drink.”

Donald’s expression instantly darkened at my refusal.