Chapter 5 If He Could Choose, He Would Want Sarah as His Mom
Arthur had gradually grown distant from Waverly. But that hadn’t stopped her from showering him with affection, always looking at him with gentle eyes.
Yet now, she had said she wouldn’t want a child like him!
Arthur couldn’t describe how he felt. His lips pressed into a tight line, and his young face grew colder. If he could choose, he would rather have Sarah as his mom. Sarah, a renowned ballet dancer, always captivated the stage with her radiance.
Without saying another word, Arthur jumped off his chair and refused to eat dinner.
In the past, Waverly would have coaxed him, admitted fault, and done whatever it took to prioritize his well-being. But this time, Arthur stormed upstairs in a huff.
Waverly tightened her grip on her utensils as she watched him leave. Pain spread through her chest, mingling with a trace of bitterness.
This was the son she had loved and cared for wholeheartedly. Not only did he keep his distance from her, but he also lectured her, scorned her, and even tried to control her.
Pushing down her emotions, she continued eating.
Meanwhile, Arthur waited for Waverly to come and comfort him. But as the night passed, she never showed up.
âŠ
Waverly enjoyed a long, relaxing soak in the tub. Ever since she decided to let go of her obsession with Beckham’s love, she felt a newfound sense of freedom.
She wondered if she had been under some kind of spell for the past five years. She didn’t know why she had believed that catering to his every preference and whim would make him fall for her.
She thought she had been utterly foolish. After all, to love someone, one must first love their self.
After stepping out of the bathroom, she went to the deepest corner of her walk-in closet and retrieved a phone she hadn’t powered on in five years.
While it charged, she took a look around the closet.
Row after row of feminine dresses, all exuding a bland, subdued style. This was Sarah’s aesthetic.
For five years, she had been playing the role of Sarah.
A glint of determination flashed in Waverly’s clear eyes. She pulled down all the dresses and threw them into the trash.
She reminded herself that she was Waverly Knight, not someone’s substitute!
Just then, her phone buzzed with a notification. She picked it up to find an anonymous text with an attached photo.
The image showed a dimly lit private room. Beckham was seated on a couch, his cold and sharp features partially illuminated. His shirt collar was unbuttoned, and a woman’s hand rested on his chest while he gripped her slender wrist.
The dark lighting and suggestive composition amplified the intimate atmosphere. Only Beckham’s chin was fully visible, but there seemed to be a faint curve at the corner of his lips.
Waverly’s grip on the phone tightened, her fingers turning pale.
No matter how many times she reminded herself that she no longer wanted or loved him, her heart still ached.
Why had she fallen for such a cruel, callous man?
Waverly pressed her lips together as she saved the photo.
The next evening, when Beckham returned to the villa, he was greeted by the sight of Waverly sitting on the couch.
Her fair, delicate face was lightly made up, her previously curled hair now straightened and tied back in a ponytail. She radiated a completely different aura. It was fresh, clean, yet vibrant and strikingly beautiful.
She no longer appeared to be mimicking Sarah’s gentle demeanor.
“You’re just in time. Take a look at this,” Waverly said as Beckham walked in, holding up her phone. On the screen was the photo from the previous night.
Beckham approached slowly, his almond-shaped eyes carrying a faint chill. His sharply defined face remained expressionless.
His brows furrowed deeply as he glanced at the phone on the coffee table.
“You had someone spy on me?”
