Divorce Failed My Wife's Secret Identities Shock the World novel Chapter 73

Maeve said, "I worked as a cleaner at The Combat Academy for a few days. The trainers showed me a couple basic self-defense tricks for dealing with creeps."

Carson was speechless. Basic self-defense tricks?

Michael blinked. "You worked at The Combat Academy too?"

Maeve's tone stayed casual. "Poor kid. You do what you have to, just to survive."

Michael went silent.

Carson clearly didn't buy it. "What kind of academy teaches skills like that?"

Maeve replied smoothly, "A private school back home. They only take kids from five to eight."

Carson went silent.

Maeve gave them a small nod. "Sorry about earlier. My mistake."

Michael laughed. "Don't say it like that. Friends of Mr. Hayes are friends of mine."

"When they were ganging up on you in the jewelry store, I was about to step in. Didn't expect those two to start tearing into each other."

"The plot twist was fast, but I can't complain. I got a front-row seat."

Maeve nodded. "It was a great show."

Michael asked, "And the actress—what is she to you?"

That word—actress—hit Maeve just right. "My biological father's current wife. Anya's mother."

Michael paused. "So you and the Morales girls are half-sisters? And Isla is your stepmother?"

Carson cleared his throat. "Logically speaking, Miss Vance is the first wife's child. The Morales girls are the second wife's. Same father, different mothers."

Maeve shot Carson an approving look. "Good analysis."

Michael's expression shifted as it clicked. "No wonder the Morales girls are so unbearable. Raised by a stepmom like that."

The estate she was about to inherit sat on unusually "good ground," but parts of its layout needed reinforcing—key points needed stronger anchors.

High-quality jade was one of the tools she needed.

If she could pick up a few pieces now, why not?

Maeve's eyes crinkled with a quick, pleased smile. "I've never seen real rough stone up close. Since I'm riding on Mr. Perez's coattails, I might as well broaden my horizons."

Michael waved it off. "Don't call me Mr. Perez. Just call me Mike."

The top floor was exactly as he'd said—rows of uncut stone, hauled in from Southeast Asia, different shapes and sizes. Customers could choose whatever spoke to them.

Each piece had a price tag. After selection, staff would cut it on-site or arrange delivery.

Compared to downstairs, this floor was practically empty.

Michael clearly came here often. The moment he appeared, the manager greeted him with eager warmth.