I Watched My Mother Kneel For His Family, Then I Ended His Chapter 03

I Watched My Mother Kneel For His Family, Then I Ended His Chapter 03

It was just past nine when I arrived at the office.

The moment the elevator doors slid open, the receptionist gave me a strange look.

A complex blend of hesitant silence, pity, and a subtle desire for drama.

I ignored her and walked straight toward the design department.

A few employees whispering in the corridor abruptly cut their conversation short when they saw me, pretending to check their phones.

By the time I sat down at my workstation and booted up my computer, my assistant, Bethel, approached holding a mug of coffee.

“Ms. Holden…” She hesitated, dropping her voice. “Mrs. Guzman posted a message in the company group chat regarding last night’s dinner.”

I picked up my phone and opened the group chat.

Frederica had posted a long post.

Basically, she went on about how I didn’t even know the proper way to toast, stormed off early, and made her lose face completely.

Frederica: [Dillen and I have been more than patient with her all these years, but she’s ungrateful and has no sense of propriety…]

It went on with a string of self-righteous accusations, framing me as an ungrateful, unreasonable daughter-in-law.

A few people had replied with “Please don’t let it get to you, Mrs. Guzman,” or “Young people really do need to learn some manners.”

A few people replied with grinning emojis.

I scrolled further down. Almost none of the design team had replied.

Yet silence itself was a stance.

I placed my phone face down.

Fine.

If Frederica wanted to make this a company-wide spectacle and have everyone on her side—I’d make sure she got it.

I booted up my workstation, logged into the system, and downloaded a resignation form.

Filled it out, printed it, signed it.

Then I stood up, holding the paper in my hand.

Bethel blinked, caught off guard. “Ms. Holden, you…”

“I’m going up to the executive suite.”

Dillen’s office was on the twenty-sixth floor.

When I reached the top floor, his secretary informed me that he had taken the morning off.

“Who else has approval authority for resignations?” I asked.

The secretary checked the system credentials. “If Mr. Guzman isn’t in… Mrs. Guzman holds signing authority.”

Frederica.

Of course it was her.

I turned and walked straight toward Frederica’s office.

When I pushed the door open, Frederica was seated behind her rosewood desk, sipping coffee.

Seeing me walk in, she set down her cup, her lips curling into her customary aloof smile.

“Ah, Elva. What, came to your senses? Here to apologize?”

I set the resignation form onto her desk. “No. I’m handing in my resignation.”

She glanced down at the paper, then burst out laughing.

“Resigning? Are you joking with me?”

She leaned back in her leather chair, crossing her legs.

“Elva, who do you think you are? The only reason you set foot in this company is that you’re Dillen’s wife. Without that, what are you?”

She tapped her finger on the desk.

“Let me be straight with you—Dillen married you to produce an heir. Plenty of people can do your job. You honestly think Guzman Group can’t survive without a junior designer like you?”

She slowly walked around the desk toward me.

“Playing hard to get, are we? Making a scene so Dillen will come coax you back?”

She stepped closer, dropping her voice to a hiss.

“Did your mother teach you this pathetic trick? Not that she’s one to talk—she couldn’t even keep her own man…”

“Frederica.” I cut her off.

My voice wasn’t loud, but she froze instantly.

“You can think whatever you want of me, but you better keep your damn mouth shut about my mother.”

I pointed at the resignation form on the desk. “Sign it.”

Her expression shifted.

She clearly hadn’t expected me to speak to her in that tone.

For five years, I had never stood up to this woman like this.

“You…”

“Frederica, I’ll say it one last time.” I took a step forward. “Sign it. I’m leaving today.”

“You think you have anywhere else to go?” Her voice went shrill. “Who would even know who you are without Guzman Group?”

“Are you signing or not?”

“I’m signing! I’ll sign right now! I’ve been counting the days till you’d pack up and leave!”

She grabbed the resignation paper, scrawling her signature, and shoved it back to me.

“Get lost! As of today, you have nothing to do with Guzman Group.”

I picked up the paper, folded it, and placed it inside my bag.

“Bye.”

My palms were soaked in cold sweat as I walked out of her office.

Inside the elevator, my phone rang.

It was my mother.

“Elva…” Her voice was thick with tears. “A delivery arrived… I opened it… It’s a divorce agreement…”

My heart sank.

Did Celia send it that fast?

“Elva, are you really getting a divorce? Is it because of me? Is it because of what happened last night?”

“It’s okay, Elva, honestly… I’m okay. The Guzmans have been good to us…”

She sobbed so hard she couldn’t piece together a full sentence.

“Mom, listen to me…”

“Elva, I won’t let you get a divorce. If you divorce him because of me, I’ll never forgive myself for the rest of my life.”

“I’m going to the Guzmans’ right now… I’ll apologize to them, I’ll get down on my knees again if I have to!”

The sound of keys jingling came through the speaker.

She was heading out the door.

“Mom! Wait! Don’t go! Mom!”

The line went dead.

I stood at the company entrance, the sun full on me—but I felt cold all over.