Skip to content
Novel Catalog
Chapter_8
Alexander snapped, “Are you throwing a fit?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “No, I’ve been wanting to give this to you for a while.”
She had prepared the divorce agreement ages ago but had never found the courage to hand it over. Now, finally, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she offered it to him.
“So, you want a divorce because of Abigail?” he asked, his voice sharp, seeking clarity.
She signed, “No, it’s not about her. It’s me. I want a divorce.”
Her eyes conveyed the seriousness of her decision, leaving no room for doubt.
He stared at her for a long moment before suddenly sitting down on the sofa. “You want a divorce? Fine. But you won’t get a dime. And I want back every penny I’ve spent on you over the years. Only then will we talk about a divorce.”
Her heart sank, but she didn’t falter. Instead, she turned and ran upstairs.
He watched her retreating figure, his anger simmering but easing slightly.
A short while later, Quinn returned, holding a card. She handed it to him silently.
He stared at the card, his mood darkening once more. Then he lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes filled with anger. “What’s this supposed to mean?”
She placed the card on the table in front of him. “It’s all here. Every cent you’ve given me.”
“You misunderstood,” he said, his voice low and filled with frustration. “I meant all the money spent on you since you were a kid, not just what I’ve given you.”
Her hands trembled as she signed, “I can pay you back bit by bit.”
He laughed bitterly, a harsh sound. “You, a mute, won’t survive out there on your own. How do you plan to pay me back?”
To his surprise, she took the divorce agreement and placed it in front of him, her expression unwavering. There was a determination in her face that he had never seen before. She signed, “If we divorce, you can marry Getty, and then you can…”
Her words trailed off as she seemed to hesitate, but he could read what she wanted to say—be together forever.
“Enough!” he roared, suddenly grabbing the divorce agreement and throwing it at her. The papers scattered across the floor, and she froze, her hand suspended in mid-air.
He stood up and looked down at her, his gaze hard. Her pale skin was marked with red scratches from the papers, and her messy hair only accentuated the cuts. “Pay me back. Then we’ll talk about a divorce,” he said coldly before turning and leaving the villa without a second glance.
As the car pulled away, he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. The anger inside him burned, but it was mixed with something else—an unsettling feeling, as if he couldn’t let her go.
‘Good for you, Quinn. You actually dared to propose a divorce. You beat me to it!’ he thought bitterly, frustration building in his chest.
Back in the villa, Quinn slowly squatted down to gather the scattered papers. The sight of them felt like a cruel reminder of her failure. Why had he refused her now, after everything?
She didn’t understand. She had finally gathered the courage to ask for the divorce, but he rejected her. Why?
Alone in the emptiness of the villa, Quinn curled up on the sofa, hugging her knees as she stared into the dark, not bothering to turn on a single light.
Around ten o’clock, her phone rang. It was a call from Victoria Pritzker—one of Alexander’s friends.
Victoria knew Quinn couldn’t speak, so when the call connected, his voice was short and to the point. “Quinn, come to The Cube. Alexander is acting all crazy!”
