I Decided to Let My Husband Be with his Lover and Chose Divorce - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Arlo sat down to chat with my dad. He was usually cold to me, but performed flawlessly in front of my dad. My dad had always liked him. But when Arlo suggested changing hospitals, he still refused, smiling at Arlo:

“Let’s not move around. It’s fine here. That Dr. Harrison is very responsible.”

Arlo grasped the right degree and didn’t insist: “It’s good if Dad is used to it here.”

After some small talk, when I handed him the cut apple, he didn’t take it but instead stood up and said to my dad:

“Well then, I’ll take Grona home first. Dad, take care of yourself.”

My dad nodded.

Arlo took me downstairs. The setting sun dyed the luxury car a blazing red, dazzling and noble. I was pushed into the car by Arlo. I wanted to get out, but my wrist was pressed down by him. Arlo’s expression was composed. From outside the car, one absolutely couldn’t tell he was using such force.

I couldn’t move at all, showing the clear difference in strength between men and women. When I gave up struggling, Arlo finally let go and quietly started smoking in the car. My breathing was slightly ragged as I looked at his profile.

The dim light cast a shadow on his profile. Arlo was born with good looks, and with his status, he could easily make women’s hearts flutter. I vaguely recalled back then, it was just such a face that made me lose my mind.

After a while, he put out the cigarette and took out a velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring. My throat tightened. This was the wedding ring I had sold that night. Arlo had bought it back.

Arlo stared at my face the whole time, not missing any subtle changes in my expression. As if he wanted to see through my skin and flesh.

After a long time, he spoke flatly: “Hold out your hand, put on the ring, then come home with me.”

“I’ll pretend the previous things never happened. You’re still Mrs. Brown.”

He was rarely so generous and gracious, but I refused. I curled my palm, this direct action expressing my rejection of him.

Arlo’s patience was limited: “What do you really want?”

I answered in a low voice: “Divorce. I want to divorce you.”

As soon as the words fell, silence pervaded the car. For a long time, Arlo fastened his seatbelt and glanced sideways at me. I turned my face away, not giving him a single look. Arlo stared for a while, then lightly stepped on the gas.

The car drove smoothly, the lights on both sides slowly receding. He clearly wanted to chat about something, but I didn’t engage at all. About five minutes later, Arlo spoke.

“Tomorrow I’ll arrange for your father to be transferred to Brown Hospital. He’ll have the best team of experts treating him.”

“And in the future, just tell me if you need money.”

His tone was quite gentle, considered a concession. He didn’t love me, and still cared about how I had schemed him back then. But he didn’t intend to change wives. This would cause trouble for his life and the company’s stock.

Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but smile self–mockingly. Arlo looked over puzzled, but didn’t care.