The Ex-Wife's Perfect Lie

Suddenly, a flashy red car roared up to the curb, its engine revving loud enough to drown out the crowd.

The door swung open, and a man in a white casual suit stepped out. His hair was slicked back perfectly, and he wore that mild, polished smile that seemed like it was begging to be punched.

It was Liam Stone. He was the pretty boy who had taken the acquisition plan I put my blood, sweat and tears into, sold it to a competitor, and then teamed up with Shirley to short the company.

He had reinvented himself as a so-called young business prodigy.

He walked over quickly, slipped an arm around Shirley's waist like it was the most natural thing in the world, and kissed her on the cheek.

He said, "Shirley, what are you doing here? This place is filthy. You're going to get your heels dirty."

Only then did he seem to notice me, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.

"Well, well, if it isn't the great Marcus Quinn. How'd you end up looking like this? Delivering food? I guess it suits you... Back at the company, all you ever did was run errands anyway."

He laughed without restraint, and the reporters around us joined in with quiet chuckles.

I ignored him and swung my leg over the scooter to leave.

However, Liam was not about to let me go. He stepped forward, blocking the front of my scooter.

"Don't rush off, Marcus. Today's a special day, and Shirley and I prepared a big gift just for you."

After saying that, he clapped his hands.

The car's back door opened, and two bodyguards helped a disheveled old woman out. She wore an ill-fitting hospital gown, her hair was gray and tangled, and her eyes were clouded over.

She was mumbling something incoherent.

It was my mother who had been missing for six years.

I threw down the scooter and rushed over, wanting to hold her.

"Mom!" I called out, tears nearly spilling over.

However, before I could touch her, the old woman suddenly screamed and lunged at me like a madwoman.

"Murderer! You're a murderer! You killed your father! You destroyed this whole family! Why are you still alive? You should've just died!"

Her bony fingers clawed viciously at my face, and her nails tore through my skin with a burning sting.

I did not dare to move, letting her hit and curse me, but on the inside, it felt like someone had stabbed me and poured salt in the wound.

Liam stood to the side with his arm around Shirley, smiling triumphantly.

"Marcus, we had such a hard time finding Mrs. Quinn. The doctor said she suffered trauma and only remembers that you killed your father. Look, even your own mother wants you dead. How much of a failure can one person be?"

The camera flashes around us went even crazier.

Through my fingers, I stared at that pair of scumbags. The murderous intent in my eyes was getting impossible to suppress.

Shirley pulled a card from her purse and held it out to me. "Marcus, Mrs. Quinn is emotionally unstable right now and needs the best treatment. There's five million dollars on this card, and the code is your birthday. Take it. Don't let your pathetic pride make her suffer."

Her tone was gentle, like she was throwing scraps to a stray dog.

Mom was still struggling in my arms, cursing me with the most vicious words. "You animal! You ungrateful bastard! I should kill you to avenge your father!"

Every word felt like a whip against my heart.

I let go, letting the bodyguards pull her away. As they dragged her off, she was still spitting at me.

I wiped the blood from my face and rejected the card. "Take your money and get lost."

Shirley's hand froze in midair, her expression faltering.

Liam sneered, snatched the card, and threw it on the ground, grinding it under his shoe.

"You ungrateful piece of trash. Shirley, since he doesn't know what's good for him, let's go. Anyway, we've got Mrs. Quinn. He'll come begging us eventually."

He leaned close to my ear and whispered so only I could hear.

"Marcus, I know exactly what you're capable of. The company has a new project coming up, and you're familiar with the acquisition materials.

"Be a good little ghostwriter for me, and maybe I'll throw you some scraps and take good care of your mother. Otherwise, you can start planning her funeral."