Chapter 4

Josh pointed at me and shouted, "He said he wanted to talk, but he tricked me into coming here and got this crazy woman to put on an act! He just wants to drive me away!"

Harper stared, stunned. "Holy shit. It's a crime he isn't an actor."

Tracy turned to look at me. "Michael, you disgust me. You'd stoop this low just to get rid of Josh? You even got an outsider to put on a show?"

I wiped the blood off my face. "You believe him over me?"

"I believe what I see! You dragged him to a place like this and scared him half to death. What were you trying to do?"

She stood up and looked down at me on the floor. "Wreck his hand." She pointed at my right hand, still pressed into the broken glass.

"You like fighting so much? Then I'll give you a taste of it.

"Josh's hands are meant for painting. Nothing can happen to them. Yours are only good for signing things anyway. If one breaks, so be it."

The bodyguards closed in.

"Tracy, I'm your husband!"

"Not for much longer."

She turned around and covered Josh's eyes. "Don't look, Josh. It's filthy."

I heard the bones in my right hand shatter. Everything went black, and I knew nothing more.

The pain woke me.

I smelled disinfectant, but I wasn't in a hospital. I was in an abandoned warehouse.

My right hand hung limp. I couldn't feel a thing.

That bodyguard had known exactly what he was doing. The bones were shattered, and the tendons were severed.

The door opened, and Tracy walked in. She came over to me. "You're awake? Sign this."

She tossed the divorce agreement and a pen onto me.

"My hand is ruined. I can't hold a pen." My voice was badly hoarse.

"Then use your left. A fingerprint works too.

"Josh was so frightened that he ran a fever all night. This is what you owe him."

I looked at this woman and felt like the past three years had been one big joke.

"Fine. I'll sign."

I picked up the pen with my left hand, scrawled my name crookedly, and pressed my fingerprint onto the page.

"What about my family?"

"You signed the agreement. I'll have the bank release that loan."

"Good." I handed her the agreement. "Tracy, I hope you and your precious loverboy grow old together. May you never part, not even in death."

She frowned, took the agreement, and turned to leave. "Dump him by the side of the road. Don't let him dirty this place."

The bodyguards threw me out by the road like a bag of trash. Heavy rain poured down on me, chilling me to the bone.

As I watched the car's taillights fade, whatever hope I still had was gone.

I fished out my phone and dialed an overseas number. "Hey, it's me."

A woman's voice came through on the other end. "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Grey himself. Finally remembered your business overseas?"

"I need a favor."

"Name it."

"Stage my death. A car crash off a cliff. No body recovered."

"Going big, huh? You're giving up on your wife?"

"I'm done with her."

"Deal. I want half of the Weaver family's overseas market."

"It's all yours."

Three days later, a story ran on the news.

Michael Grey, the ex-husband of the Weaver Group's CEO, had crashed his car on the coastal highway.

The car had plunged into the sea. All that was pulled from the water was the wrecked vehicle and a bloodstained suit jacket.

According to the police's initial assessment, there was no chance the person inside had survived.