Divorce Make Me A Tycoon, My Ex Meet His Doom

Angel Private Hospital The pain came in waves. Christine Woods lay on the narrow hospital bed, clutching her stomach with one hand, cold sweat trickling down her forehead. Her face was pale as paper, and her lips were cracked from dryness. The IV drip had been trickling by her bedside for quite a while now, yet she felt no relief whatsoever. She stared at the chat window with Neil Caffrey. This was the message she had sent him at 10 p.m. last night. She hadn't received his reply until she passed out from vomiting and was rushed to the hospital by the butler. Stop faking it. I have a business dinner tonight and won't be coming back. Christine looked at the message on the screen, a faint pang of bitterness rising in her heart. Neil seemed to have grown accustomed to ignoring her messages. She knew he had a business dinner yesterday, but the stomach cramps had been unbearable. she couldn't stop herself from sending that message. For the past three years of their marriage, whenever his business dinners ran late, he would simply sleep at the office. But she was sick now. why could he remain so indifferent and unmoved? She didn't realize when it happened, but tears began streaming down her cheeks. Just as she was about to lock the screen, a sudden notification chimed from her IG app. It was from her sister-in-law, Sofia Caffrey. She had posted something. Christine hesitated for half a second before tapping it. A photo immediately filled her screen. It was a picture of her husband, Neil, hugging another woman, chatting and laughing under the warm lights of a restaurant. The woman rested her head on Neil's shoulder, and he gazed at her with eyes full of love. They looked like a couple deeply in love. Christine's heart skipped a beat. Was this what he meant by "business dinner"? And the caption Sofia posted stung like a knife. I am so happy! I never thought Vivian was still alive! Look at my brother-he was smiling from ear to ear. I'm so happy for them. The timestamp glowed mercilessly at the top of the post. It was exactly the same time she had been rushed into the emergency room, begging her husband to come and help her. Christine was very familiar with that woman. It was none other than Vivian Clark-Neil's first love, who was supposed to be dead. They had dated for four years before breaking up. After Vivian left to study overseas, news of her sudden death had reached them. From then on, her name became Neil's untouchable sore spot. So she was still alive after all. Christine's throat tightened. Had they been together all night? Comments flooded in from their friends. No one seemed to care whether Christine could see this post. Oh my God, Vivian is alive! Thank goodness! The two of them sitting together is just what I needed. The most enviable couple at our university back then have finally reunited! Your brother's profile picture is still that blue cat he and Vivian raised together. Haven't you noticed? That person's eyes look just like Vivian's. That person? Were they talking about her? Christine clutched her phone tightly, her fingers going numb. Her chest constricted as a sharp pain pierced her heart, as if something were gripping it violently. The truth slammed into her without mercy-he hadn't just ignored her. He had lied. Before she could even think, she had already pressed the call button. After several rings, the other party finally picked up. "What is it?" The magnetic voice carried a hint of impatience. "Where are you?" Christine asked, her throat tight. "At the office. Christine, it's six in the morning. I didn't get to bed until three last night after a business dinner. Could you give me a break?" "Which client?" she asked, clinging to a sliver of hope. "Do I know them?" The man on the other end paused briefly before replying. "You don't know them. They're all men." He caught on, his tone growing even more impatient. "Christine, are you interrogating me?" The more you try to hide it, the more obvious it becomes. Christine clenched her phone as something inside her finally shattered. Disappointment, frustration, and sorrow flooded her chest, leaving her breathless. "Enough!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her voice trembled as she finally asked the question she'd been holding back. "So. am I just her stand-in?" Neil froze for a moment before his irritation flared again. "What nonsense are you spouting now? Is it fun to be jealous every single day?" Christine closed her eyes. "Neil, it's over between us." "Let's get a divorce." Then she hung up. Neil stared at the disconnected call in disbelief, rubbing his eyes to make sure the name on the screen really was Christine. Divorce? How could she propose a divorce? Everyone knew Christine was madly in love with him! And on top of that, the Woods family had gone bankrupt. How could she bear to leave him? Neil naturally assumed he had misheard. He had only fallen asleep at three in the morning, and with a meeting at ten, he had just five hours left to rest. He locked his screen decisively, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep again. ***** In truth, Christine's demand for divorce wasn't an impulsive outburst. The thought had been circling her mind for a long time. When her father was alive, he had once told her, "Christine, your father can give you wealth and status. All I ask is that your future husband treats you as well as I have." But Dad, did you ever realize how incredibly difficult it is to find a man who loves me the way you did? Tears streamed silently down her face. While Neil was drowning in grief over Vivian's death, Christine had reached out to him, trying to thaw his heart and help him rebuild. She believed a man who loved deeply was always better than one who was cold and indifferent. Yet after marrying Neil, she discovered that his deep affection was reserved for only one person. Three years passed. No matter how hard Christine tried, she couldn't warm that heart. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to keep going. Ha. As if by fate, the very person he had been longing for had come back to life. She laughed mockingly. The buzzing vibration of her phone abruptly pulled her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and answered. "Mom." "Christine, your brother's tuition for next year needs to be paid. Tell Neil to transfer twenty thousand dollars immediately-his homeroom teacher just called to remind us!" Christine's glassy eyes flickered slightly. "Mom, what's the latest deadline?" There was a moment of stunned silence before her mother's voice rose sharply. "What do you mean? Is Neil refusing to pay?" Back when their family was prosperous, the Caffreys had taken advantage of them countless times. How dare he refuse now? "No," Christine replied flatly. Ever since her father passed away and the family went bankrupt, her mother still lived extravagantly, sending her younger brother to an international school, desperately trying to prove that-even bankrupt-she remained unchanged. It was easy to go from frugality to extravagance, but hard to go from extravagance to frugality. "Mom, I'll contact the homeroom teacher myself. Don't worry about it." "Then don't forget to renew the tuition promptly-don't let your brother be ridiculed by his classmates!" Christine hung up, emotions tangled in her chest. But a resolute glint flashed in her eyes. Her pale fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed a message to a friend. [Emma, do you know any divorce lawyers?]