Chapter 8
After Mark was discharged from the hospital, he came to me. His usually neat hair was disheveled, the crisp shirt wrinkled, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw.
I was startled. In such a short time, he’d become a complete mess.
He looked at me, a flicker of hope lighting his eyes as he pleaded:
“Honey, I know I was wrong. Can you please not divorce me?”
All I felt now was endless disgust:
“Sign or not, it doesn’t matter. I have enough evidence to make you lose everything. My emigration pa- pers are ready. We’re done.”
Mark collapsed at my feet, sobbing uncontrollably:
“After all our years together, must you be this cruel?
Flynn already kicked me out of the Group. If I lose you too, how will I survive?”
I shoved him away in revulsion:
I’d sent Flynn copies of all the video evidence.
“I’ve seized every asset Mark owns. Now we just wait for the court to finalize the divorce.
What you do with those videos is none of my business.”
Flynn looked up at me:
“Go abroad without worries, live your carefree life.”
The day before I left, Sophie came to me:
“Why are videos of me and Mark all over the internet?
Did you do this?”
“You’ve got the wrong person this time. I only gave those videos to Flynn.
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Chapter 8
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As for how they spread online? Ask your husband.”
Sophie muttered blankly:
“He couldn’t… he posted them?”
Done with this mess, I yanked out my SIM card, cutting ties with these trash people and their trash dra-
- ma.
While soaking up ocean breezes across the sea, my lawyer called:
My divorce from Mark was finalized.
Flynn divorced Sophie. Cyberbullied into psychosis, Sophie vanished without a trace.
Gazing at the stunning sunset over the vast bay, I cheerfully asked the server for another bottle of cham-
pagne.
The End.
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