Chapter 18
The two of them drove in silence all the way to the front of the red house.
Looking through the rearview mirror, Eliezer glanced at Grace, tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and called out to her in a hoarse voice, “Grace…”
The conversation ended.
The car door was opened and closed by Grace.
Outside the car window, that white figure entered the red house without looking back.
He looked up and caught sight of the figure standing on the second floor, then quickly looked away, his expression turning desolate.
Indoors.
Owen’s eyes were deep, and he ignored Eliezer’s gaze, staring at Grace as she went upstairs. He then saw her standing by the window, silently watching the jasmine plant, lost in thought.
A moment later, she picked up the flowers, clunked down the stairs, and in the next instant, in front of Eliezer, she smashed the flowers into his car.
Vaguely, it seemed that her voice could still be heard.
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“Don’t come looking for me again in the future.”
The corners of his lips unconsciously lifted as he lowered his head and glanced at his phone. With a deep gaze, he typed out a message: “Well done, bonus coming your way.”
Eyes looked up.
The pitch-black pupils reflected a line of black text: “Mr. Morgan, it has been fixed. His phone can now view chat records without unlocking.”
It’s really not worth mentioning.
The footsteps behind me were getting closer, Grace was coming back.
Owen turned off his phone, propped his arm on the windowsill, turned sideways, and met Grace’s eyes directly. His tone was still as calm as usual as he asked, “Are we fighting?”
There was a long silence.
Grace’s ribs still ached faintly, as if something had been pulled out, and every breath carried a hollow chill in her heart.
It felt like falling into a dark vortex, constantly descending.
Why?
Why could she never get a love that lasts forever? She longed for someone to love her passionately and unconditionally, but it always turned out contrary to her wishes.
A wave of almost self-loathing weariness swept over me, I was really
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tired, so tired.
After a moment of silence, Grace suddenly smiled and almost whispered, “Let’s get divorced when we go back to our country.”
There was dead silence.
The man’s body seemed to freeze for a moment, but quickly returned to being cold and rigid.
His voice tightened slightly, “Are you sure?”
“Sure!”
Owen wanted to refuse, but when he looked up and met Grace’s vulnerable yet determined eyes, he inexplicably hesitated, as if refusing would lead to irreversible consequences.
In the end, I changed my mind.
“I can agree, but you have to make it clear with your mother.”
“After all, it was a matter of cooperation between the Spencer and Morgan families.”
This reason Grace could accept.
Originally, she had planned to file for divorce if Owen did not agree.
On the way back.
Grace boarded the helicopter, the roar in her ears as she glanced at the message sent by Eliezer.
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“Grace, will we see each other again?”
Through the screen, Grace could almost imagine his sad expression, probably furrowing his brows and looking pitifully at the phone screen. But Grace knew that it was all just a facade.
She smiled briefly, fortunately, they hadn’t known each other for long, time would slowly fade away this memory.
The fingertips lingered for a long time.
Grace still turned off her phone, responding with silence.
The answer was also a refusal.
All of this was taken in by Owen’s eyes. He glanced indifferently and then looked away.
July 7th, 8 o’clock in the morning.
After a night of flying, we arrived at the Morgan Group. The sun had already risen, painting the eastern sky with a hint of orange.
The meeting room.
Owen and Grace sat facing each other, with the divorce agreement signed by Grace in front of them.
Even before getting married, they had already made a property notarization. The only thing left was exchanging gifts on holidays, some of which were precious jewelry, but Grace never asked for any of them.
Both sides remained silent in tacit understanding, waiting for the
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arrival of the person who was about to come.
The crisp sound of high heels approached, ‘clack’ stepping on Grace’s heart one by one.
The door opened.
The sound arrived before the person did.
“My daughter was not sensible, so we called off the divorce. Mr. Morgan, please don’t mind.”
Here we go again.
Suffocated by the spreading feeling in her chest, Grace suppressed her emotions and looked towards the door, only to see Pamela entering in a black high-end suit, her expression cold and indifferent.
“Grace, it was wrong of my daughter to disappear for so many days. Go apologize to Owen, and let’s put this behind us.”
These words were like needles in cotton, densely piercing Grace’s
heart.
Just as Pamela was about to continue speaking, she couldn’t help but interrupt: “Mom, I am no longer the president of the Spencer Group…”
Pamela seemed not to hear, and continued to say to herself, “We, the Spencer Group and the Morgan Group, are still the same as before, mutually beneficial and mutually supportive…”
“Mom, I want a divorce…”
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