Chapter 11 Helping Him in Secret

• Marcus glanced at me, his expression filled with impatience. "What do you know about business? Get out of here."
• After saying that, he picked up the glass of red wine on the table and downed it. Then, he slammed the glass down and stormed out of the room.
• A wave of sadness washed over me. All these years, though he had been distant and cold toward me, he still maintained a facade of respect, making some effort to consider my feelings.
• But now, he didn't even bother keeping up his act. The pretense was gone, leaving only blatant irritation.
• I went to the bathroom to take a shower. As I lay in the bathtub, Marcus' anxious look lingered in my mind. The image I had of him was always one of invincibility; he had never shown this side of himself before.
• After thinking it over, I finally picked up my phone and dialed a number.
• I called Marcus' secretary, who happened to be a senior at my university and had always looked out for me.
• He explained the situation, saying that the issue was with an international project involving a batch of fashion design sketches. The company was competing with another firm for the rights to display their designs in a major mall in Peldorale.
• This was extremely important for the Eckman Group, but the drafts submitted by their design department had been rejected twice, which infuriated Marcus.
• I didn't know much about business, but I sensed that his handling of this matter was different from his usual approach. Perhaps it had something to do with our impending divorce and the effect of Taylor's miscarriage on him…
• After pondering for a moment, I said, "I'd like to learn more about this project, if that's okay with you."
• "Sure, but don't let Mr. Eckman find out. This involves trade secrets," he agreed reluctantly, given our relationship.
• "Got it," I replied, knowing he would agree. Nonetheless, I kept my true intentions to myself.
• Once I obtained the project's design requirements, I locked myself in my room and got to work.
• Finally, by the morning of the third day, I had several sketches ready. Fortunately, the house was empty, as my mother-in-law had gone out for the holidays and had yet to return. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had the time.
• After two sleepless nights, my mind was foggy, but I was exhilarated. I wanted to help with this matter, hoping it would allow me to owe Marcus a little less, making my heart feel lighter.
• I called my senior and handed over the designs.
• Soon after he saw the sketches, he called me back, repeatedly asking who had created them.
• He sounded rather pleased, so I didn't hide the truth and admitted that I had completed the designs on my own.
• "Not bad," he responded. "They are pretty decent. It's worth a shot."
• I reminded him not to let Marcus know that I was the one who created the designs if it was approved, for I wanted to avoid any necessary troubles.
• He had his reservations as well and agreed to keep it under wraps.
• After hanging up the phone, I was utterly exhausted and collapsed onto the bed without even changing.
• At around three in the afternoon, I was half-asleep when my senior called again. He said that both Marcus and the clients were very satisfied with the design, and the Peldorale deal was practically in their hands. Marcus had even inquired about the designer, intending to offer a generous bonus.
• Nervously, I asked, "Did you tell him?"
• He replied, "You told me not to, remember? Don't worry, I didn't say anything. I told him the design department came up with the idea. I'll make sure to pass the reward directly to you, though."
• Hearing that, I breathed a sigh of relief. The bonus didn't matter to me; what mattered was that Marcus felt better.
• After chatting a bit more with my senior, I felt a weight lift off my chest.
• Just then, there was a loud knock at the door.
• I quickly got up to open the door, knowing that my mother-in-law had returned. Thankfully, I hadn't taken off my clothes, anticipating her arrival. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had time.
• "What were you doing in the room?" She scowled at me the moment she saw me.
• "Nothing," I mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.
• "Hurry up and make some food. Taylor's in the hospital, and she said she wants chicken noodle soup!" she ordered. "I managed to get my hands on a live chicken. Get it killed and bring the soup to her."
• The brief moment of joy I had felt earlier vanished in an instant, extinguished by her words.
• How much inner strength would it take a wife to make chicken noodle soup for a mistress?
• When I hesitated, my mother-in-law continued, "Even though Taylor said the miscarriage was an accident, it must've had something to do with you. Don't think you can just wash your hands of it."
• Swallowing my tears, I went to prepare the soup in silence. Once it was done, I packed it in a thermos and headed to the hospital. Throughout the journey, I felt as though a heavy stone was weighing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
• Only I would be capable of enduring such humiliation, it seemed.
• When I reached Taylor's hospital room, the door was closed, but I could hear the faint sound of women's voices inside.
• For some reason, I didn't knock. Instead, I found myself straining to listen to what they were saying.
• After all, I could distinctly hear Taylor laughing!
• "Taylor, how did you bring yourself to do it? That was an Eckman growing inside of you, after all. Don't you think it's a waste to have gotten rid of it like that?" asked a woman.