Chapter 2

Lucas' POV

When I woke up in the morning, I felt that my head had been blown by a hammer.

For a brief moment, I couldn't even feel my limbs.

Lying on the bed like a fucking vegetable, I thought to myself -

What the fuck happened to me last night?

The last thing I could remember was the glass of wine.

Tracey had put something into my wine to make me lose control of myself.

That fucking witch. What the fuck had she done to me? I wouldn't be surprised to find out that she had taken away my limbs.

The butler came in, looking very upset.

"What?" I struggled to sit up straight.

The butler mumbled, "Sir, about Mrs. Plarre... She... Well..."

"What?!" I rubbed my eyes and saw the divorce papers on the table.

What happened last night suddenly struck me like a fucking baseball bat.

"Fuck. The divorce papers. Did she sign it?!" I tried to stand up but collapsed on the bed again.

The butler fetched the papers for me and I saw that fucking woman's signatures on every fucking required place.

She signed it!

I couldn't believe it! After what happened to us last night! After she got what she wanted by drugging and taking advantage of me!

She fucking signed our divorce papers and made me a fucking divorceé now!

"Where's she?!" I rubbed the divorce papers into a ball and threw it on the floor.

The butler looked numb and asked in a low voice, "Sir?"

I was irritated and said, "Where's my fucking wife?! Where's Mrs. Plarre?!"

"I'm sorry, Sir. But Mrs. Plarre left at six o'clock this morning..." the butler looked like he was suffering from constipation.

"Left?! What do you mean she has left?!" I couldn't believe what I had heard.

"She took a suitcase and walked away, Sir. And before she went away, she asked me to send a message to you..."

"What did she say?!"

The butler collected himself and replied, "She said that you really suck in bed and that's why she wanted a divorce. She also said that she had found someone else. She would leave this country and she would never ever come back..."

"What?!" I clenched my fists and punched the bed. "That fucking slut! That fucking mink! She has to pay for what she has done to me! Use all your resources to look for her! I don't care what it takes! I want Tracey back! I need my wife back!"

"But Sir..." the butler looked hesitant, "She signed the divorce papers. So technically speaking, she's not your wife anymore..."

I couldn't hold it anymore and roared, "Technically speaking, you're fired. Bring me my mobile and I'll look for someone who can get things done!"

As a law-abiding businessman, I know when to pull some strings and make things happen.

I dialed the number of the Police Commissioner.

"Uncle Joey, I'm sorry for calling, but my wife is gone. I need you to notify Interpol and put up a Yellow Notice on her name."

My uncle sounded wary, "Luke, what happened? Is she taken or something..."

I became desperate.

"No, uncle! She left! Like what happened in the Gone Girl movie! Shut down all the airports immediately and put up barricades on the intersections. I need her back at all costs!"

Tracey's POV

As I got on the boat, I saw police cars swarming on the Creek Bridge.

I saw the posters the police held in their hands. My face was printed on them.

I knew my husband would definitely turn to his Police Commissioner uncle for help when he found out that I had gone.

That was why I had a completely waterborne getaway plan.

"Are they looking for you?" The captain pointed at the bridge and asked me.

"Yeah," I replied and pulled up the hoody. With my face all over the press, I didn't feel that I could lie to him.

"It seems that you're in a lot of trouble, lady," the captain said with a sinister smile. "I overheard it on the radio. The person who's looking for you is willing to pay a million dollars to find you. That's a lot of dollars."

One million dollars. That's my price to my ex-husband.

"I'll give you three million dollars if you can get me to Cuba safely," I said with my hands in my purse, holding a gun.

I stole it from Lucas before I ran away just in case.

Three million dollars was all that I had in my bank account. If the captain wanted to bargain, I would have to put a bullet in his head to shut him up.

But fortunately, he wasn't so greedy.

It saved both his and my lives.

"Well, in that case, you might want to take a nap in the cabin, lady. It will take another four hours before we get to Port Matanzas," the captain smirked.

I held a gun in my hands for four hours, pretending to be asleep.

It was the longest journey that I had ever had.

As soon as the boat stopped, I wired the money into the captain's account and jumped off the boat.

There was a carnival at the port.

I saw the police walking around in the crowd, checking people's documents.

I stopped a dancer who was wearing the loudest costume and paid her 30 dollars to buy her whole outfit.

Then, I put on some make-up and blended into the festival crowd.

No one had paid any attention to me.

Five hours later, I passed the airport customs with a fake passport.

25 hours later, I landed in Yangon, Myanmar.

"What is your purpose for this trip?" The woman at customs asked me with suspicion on her face.

"To start a new life," I replied in rusty Burmese I picked up on the plane.

She looked even more suspicious.

"My ex-husband is an asshole," I added.

She burst into laughter and stamped on my passport.

"Have a nice stay in our country," she said.

I took a deep breath and walked out of the airport.

After two days of grand escape, I was finally free.

But how am I supposed to make a living in a foreign country?

As I thought to myself, I saw an advertisement on the side of the road -

"Godfather of TOEFL. 30,000 Kyats an hour. Call me!!! I'll give you a lesson that you can't refuse!!!"

I thought to myself, that seemed to be an easy way to make a living.

I walked into a language school and said to the receptionist -

"Hi, I want to teach TOEFL at your school."

"What is your qualification?" the receptionist frowned and asked.

"I'm American." I put my passport on the table.

A few moments later, a woman who looked like a headmaster walked out.

She took a glance at my passport and smiled at me.

"Hi, I am Julie," she said. "And you are hired."