Murray's head was pounding, and his temper was fraying at the edges. Without a word, he silenced his phone and slammed it down on the desk. "Continue," he said, his voice cold as ice. The others in the meeting didn't dare make eye contact, each focusing intently on their own thoughts.

After the meeting, back in his office, Murray picked up his phone again and couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh at what he saw.

Millie had gone on a shopping spree with his credit card, and he was getting all the notifications. The messages kept coming, one after another, until he was about to put the phone down in frustration. That's when Millie sent a message. "Murray, I bought all these. Do you like them? I even got you a tie and a jacket."

He barely glanced at it before he blocked her number, scoffing at the audacity.

Rubbing his temples, Murray walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the bustling streets below, his thoughts drifting back to Roseanne.

Lately, she was all he could think about, even appearing in his dreams.

He had given Roseanne a credit card too, for her essential needs and the occasional gift for Beverley, but she hardly used it for personal luxuries, preferring to pay with her own earnings from coding projects. He knew she didn't make much, but she never cared for brand names anyway.

The jewelry and designer bags he bought for her were rarely used, reserved only for special occasions. After they split, she left it all behind without a second thought, as if discarding trash.

Millie, on the other hand, was a constant, bitter reminder of what he had lost — a beautiful relationship traded for a mess.

...

At the mall.

Millie, seeing no reply, sent another message, only to be greeted with an error. He had blocked her!

Her cheeks were red with anger and her stomach knotted with distress. Taking a deep breath to calm down, she turned to her nannies and ordered, "I want that coconut water from the shop downstairs. Go get it for me."

"I'll go. You stay here with the bags," one nanny suggested to the other.

"Fine." Millie sneered, "I said both of you. Are you deaf?"

"But what about all this stuff?"

"Carry it."

The nannies exchanged a look of mutual exasperation and concealed anger. This was unnecessary torment.

But Millie didn't care. She needed to vent the frustration she felt from Murray and Beverley somehow.

That night, Murray didn't come home.

Millie, surrounded by her shopping bags, oscillated between crying and laughing, then started throwing things around. Sadie, half asleep, groaned, "Not again!"

But she just rolled over, pulling the blanket over her head, trying to block out the noise and go back to sleep. Let Millie break things; they'd clean up in the morning.

Predicting this tantrum, the other nannies had already excused themselves earlier, one citing back pain needing a hospital visit, the other needing to care for a O grandchild. en Ebookex.com

So, when Millie stormed out of her room, ready to unleash her fury, she was met with an eerie silence. The villa was empty. Pausing for a moment, she yelled, "Frieda! Sadie! Where the hell are you all?! I want chicken soup! "My stomach hurts—"

But when her usual demands fell on deaf ears, Millie finally calmed down.

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