After Tormenting Him, I Saw Comments and Fled

Chapter 5

My mind went blank.

'Abandon my husband? Since when had I ever married him?'

"Mr. Stone."

I tried desperately to shrink backward, but the turnstile dug painfully into my spine.

"I used the money for my grandma's surgery. I can work and pay you back. Just let me go."

Ethan still had hold of my wrist. His fingertips were burning hot against my skin.

"Who said I wanted it back?"

He snatched the payment receipt from my hand, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it aside.

Then he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and stuffed a stack of cards into my palm.

"Why didn't you ask me for money? If you needed six million, I would've given you. So why take hers?"

Black cards, gold cards, platinum cards. Seven or eight of them stacked together.

I stared at them blankly, opening my mouth but failing to say a word.

Ethan tilted his head toward the middle-aged man standing behind him, the same assistant who had knelt in my seafood stall and banged his forehead against the floor.

"Brian. Cut off every fund and investment connected to the Hall family. Anyone who spends six million dollars trying to buy my wife can watch their family business go bankrupt."

Brian lowered his head respectfully, already pulling out his phone to make calls.

I tugged against Ethan's grip.

"What wife? We're nothing to each other. I'm a fish seller. You spent six months working at my stall."

Ethan looked down at me and didn't answer. Instead, he bent down and picked up my worn woven bag.

One hand carried the bag. The other still refused to let go of my wrist.

He pulled me toward the exit. The bodyguards immediately split into two lines, making a path for us.

I dug my heels in.

"My grandma's still back there!"

He paused. Turning his head, he glanced at Grandma sitting quietly in her wheelchair, looking around in confusion.

Then, to my surprise, Ethan let go of me. He walked over and crouched in front of her.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pen and wrote two words on his palm before holding it up for Grandma to see.

I leaned over.

It said: Grandson-in-law.

Grandma squinted at his face, then at his palm. A moment later, she broke into a grin. She reached out, patted his cheek affectionately, and gave him a thumbs-up.

I was speechless.

Ethan stood up, casually took hold of Grandma's wheelchair, and began pushing her outside.

I could only follow behind as bodyguards surrounded us and escorted us into the stretched black sedan.

Oddly enough, the car didn't head toward the airport. Nor did it get onto the highway.

Instead, it turned back toward downtown, toward my neighborhood, toward the rundown little street where I rented a thirty-square-meter apartment.

Ethan carried my woven bag upstairs first. He set it down beside my sagging old sofa and slowly looked around.

At the leaking ceiling. At the mold creeping along the corners of the walls.

Expressionless, he raised his chin toward Brian.

Brian immediately stepped outside and started making calls.

I stood frozen at the doorway, watching Ethan sit down properly in my wobbly plastic chair.

A man wearing a suit worth more than my entire year's income. Sitting among the lingering smell of dried fish.

"You aren't going back to Kingsford?"

Ethan turned toward me. He patted the chair beside him, motioning for me to sit down.

"I'm not. Wherever you are... I'm staying there too."