The man crossed his legs, radiating a suffocating low pressure. His dark eyes locked onto her, carrying an invisible, commanding weight.
"Move back. I'll arrange for a psychiatrist to look after your mother."
Gillian refused to budge or compromise. "I like my life the way it is right now. I can take care of my mother perfectly fine."
"Gillian." York's voice was remarkably thin and cold. "In the past, I could have left you alone. But now, you're pregnant with my child."
"What you did today was incredibly reckless. Your mother isn't in her right mind right now, are you planning on losing your mind along with her?"
Every word he spoke was dripping with mockery and disdain.
Such cold, biting words naturally wounded the heart.
York didn't even realize it.
Gillian felt her chest tighten painfully, a suffocating weight pressing down on her lungs with nowhere to escape.
She clenched her hands and took a deep breath.
"You should be going to comfort your precious sweetheart right now. Didn't she say she wanted to break up with you?"
A layer of frost settled over his features. "I told you to stay out of my business with Hailey."
Gillian forced a smile. "I'll stay out of yours, so you stay out of mine, okay? I'll do my part as your wife. Just let me know whenever you finally want that divorce. Until then, I won't interfere with whatever you have going on with Hailey."
"Do you think being Mrs. Foster is that simple?" York's voice dropped several registers, laced with palpable anger. "Whatever you did before, you will continue to do now."
"Prepare my breakfast, tie my necktie in the mornings, pick out my suits, and manage the house properly."
Gillian looked at him with an icy expression. "You never cared when I did any of those things before. Why torture me with it now?"
For five years of their marriage, regardless of whether York came home or stayed away, Gillian had cheerfully run the household.
She had cared for him meticulously and patiently, foolishly believing she could eventually warm his frozen heart.

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