My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 135

Owen was taken aback, unable to guess what Lionel was thinking. He didn’t dare ask, so he simply nodded and followed him out.

That evening, Hannah returned home to find Lionel sitting on the sofa, reading a newspaper. She ignored him and started up the stairs.

As she passed a large mirror, she caught Cora’s reflection in the background, rolling her eyes with disdain. The girl was just like her mother—a hired hand who was starting to think she owned the place. Hannah knew exactly why Lily had sent her daughter. It was a transparent attempt to secure her own position by having her daughter usurp Hannah’s.

She went upstairs, changed into loungewear, and came back down to the dining room, gesturing for Cora to serve dinner.

“Mr. Rosenberg isn’t even seated yet. How dare you sit down first?” Cora snapped. “You didn’t even greet him when you came in.”

Hannah chuckled. “And what should I have done? Bowed to him? Stood by his chair until he sat, pulled it out for him, and then deboned his fish?”

Cora sputtered, “You… you should be grateful! You only live in this house because of Mr. Rosenberg’s charity!”

“If your thinking is so antiquated, how have you failed to recognize your own station?” Hannah retorted. “Or perhaps you have your eye on Lionel’s father and are practicing your new role as his mother by lecturing me? Or maybe you’re one of those women who can’t live without a man, ready to devote your life in exchange for a few scraps of kindness?” Hannah’s brow arched in contempt. “If you want to be grateful, be my guest. After all, you wouldn’t be here serving me if it weren’t for him. Go on, give him a proper thank you. Perhaps you should erect a monument in his honor, so your descendants will never forget his benevolence.”

Lionel walked in just in time to hear the end of their exchange. Cora, her eyes red, looked at him with a pitiful expression.

Lionel sat down. “Did you really have to argue with a young girl?”

Hannah laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “Argue? So you agree with her? You think I should come home every day and grovel at your feet, overflowing with gratitude for allowing me to live in this luxurious villa and wear designer clothes? Perhaps I’m the one who should be building monuments, so my descendants will know it was only by marrying you that I escaped my hovel in the slums.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Lionel’s face. “Hannah, does everything have to be so sarcastic with you?”

“An outsider criticizes me in my own home, and instead of defending me, you lecture me. Lionel, you used to only be biased towards Sandra. Now you’re biased towards literally anyone but me, is that it?”