<b>Chapter </b><b>212</b>
I was totally confused and shot back<b>, </b>“What do you mean?”
His expression was icy, cutting through the air like a knife. “Cut the act.”
Confused and increasingly irritated, I shot back, “Excuse me? What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything wrong<b>!</b><b>”</b>
“Denying it till the bitter end, huh?<b>” </b>Bryant’s lips curved in a smirk, his demeanor turning even more intimidating. He Mcked his phone several times and aimed it at me, “Take a look. Your masterpiece, isn’t it?<b>”</b>
I was momentarily stunned and turned my gaze to his phone screen. It was a trending topic that had exploded online just minutes <b>ago</b>. And there it was, a scandal involving Albert and Margaret. There was even a video. The thumbnail showedst night’s scene <b>in </b>the Larson family’s backyard.
<b>I </b>recognized it instantly, a chill running down my spine. I clicked on it, wondering if it was the video I had taken, but it was already offline. It got blocked.
And to add to the fire, images were floating around of Bryant and Margaret looking too close forfort. The online bacsh was ugly.
Bryant sneered, “Nothing to say now?”
My mind was a mess, but I denied it. “I didn’t do this. Bryant, I’m not that stupid. Even if I were to spill the beans<b>, </b>it wouldn’t be now.” In reality, I was indeed plotting to spill the beans, but not before those divorce papers were firmly in my grasp.
“Then how did the video end up online?” Bryant pressed, his gaze piercing. “Or maybe you had a little viewing partyst night?”
That was when it clicked.
Gregory!
But I wasn’t sure if it was him.N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.
And I knew, no matter what I said<b>, </b>Bryant wouldn’t believe me. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. We’re here now<b>. </b>Just get the papers, and let’s end this.”
“You think I’d let you off that easy?” His voice was cold, his smirk mocking. “Jane, keep dreaming.”
With that, he turned and walked away.
I took a deep breath, watching his retreating figure, my frustration boiling. “Fine, it doesn’t matter if you don’t cooperate. Thew says I can divorce you unterally after two years <b>of </b>separation. We’ll wait it out then.”
I had all the time in the world. Bryant was the one in a hurry to remarry, not me.
He paused, his voice cold as ice, “Remember your words!”
Fuming, I reached for my phone to confront Gregory but realized I had forgotten I didn’t have his contact.
As Bryant walked <b>out</b>, Margaret and Teresa, eagerly waiting outside, ran to him with bright smiles. Whatever they said<b>, </b>Bryant <b>didn’t </b>even spare them a nce and left swiftly.
Timothy had passed away not long ago, and the Ferguson Group was stabilizing. The scandal was thest thing they needed. Ignoring Margaret and Teresa, they didn’t chase after Bryant but came <b>to </b>gloat before me.
Blocked at the office door, Margaret lifted her chin, <b>a </b>smug smile on her face. “What did you say to Bry? He seemed furious about getting those divorce papers<b>.</b><b>”</b>
They were so eager to see us separated that they hadn’t even checked their phones to see their reputations crumbling.
Teresa was even more delusional, oblivious <b>that </b>her daughter had disgraced them, a shame known to all. Putting on airs<b>, </b>she reached <b>out</b>, “Bry <b>left </b><b>in </b>such a hurry. He didn’t show me the divorce papers. Show me yours to put our minds at rest.