The Divorcee Amazed the World

It felt like a dream. Helena stood there, hands and feet cold, her mind blank.

Seeing Helena, Willis sobered up a bit, forcefully pushing Susan away and supporting himself on the sofa.

Susan turned her head, feigning surprise, “Helena, you’re here?”

Helena, still in a dreamlike state, felt her heart pounding.

She turned and walked away, forgetting to close the door.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Sometimes, when things are too overwhelming, too unexpected, people don’t have time to react.

She didn’t cry, didn’t make a scene; she just felt her steps faltering, the scenery surreal.

The chilly spring wind blew on her face, as cold as ice.

Gradually, the cold wind awakened Helena, and the more she thought, the angrier she became.

Willis asked the driver to call her over just to see him being intimate with Susan?

On the day he proposed a breakup, she had readily agreed. Why did he have to humiliate her in this way?

Just because there was no love, did that give him the right to hurt her so casually?

Anger surged through every pore.

Helena walked straighter and straighter, ultimately with unyielding determination.

She reached the villa gate.

The driver was waiting at the door, opening it and saying, “Helena, Mr. Santana asked me to take you back.”

Helena remained silent for a long time before bending down to get into the car.

The driver closed the door and called Willis, saying, “Mr. Santana, I found Helena. I’ll take her back now; rest assured.”

“Good.”

Willis put down his phone, gazing at Susan with a slightly cold expression, “Were you doing that on purpose just now?”

With a pout, Susan, looking aggrieved, said, “I didn’t know Helena would come so coincidentally. I slipped just now and accidentally fell on you.”

“I’m drunk, not stupid!”

Susan’s eyebrows drooped, tears streaming down, “It’s my fault. I’ll explain to Helena.”

She reached into her pocket to grab her phone.

Willis raised his hand to stop her, a bit impatient, “No need, the more you explain, the worse it gets. Just go back.”

“But you…”

“I’m just drunk; I won’t die.” Willis sat heavily on the sofa, pinching his forehead with his hand.

He looked somewhat annoyed.

Seeing her like this, Willis couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry. He said, “I’m not blaming you. Helena didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have hurt her this way.”

“But you asked for a divorce; that’s already hurting her.”

“Then I’ll try to minimize the damage, instead of humiliating her like this.”

“Prolonged pain is worse than short pain. What you did will hurt her even more deeply.” Susan added in a soft voice, “And it hurts me too.”

“I can’t divorce for now; my grandmother doesn’t agree.” Willis glanced at her indifferently, “My divorce with her isn’t solely because of you. Mentioning you was just a pretext.”

Like a heavy blow, Susan was stunned.

Her face turned pale, and her trembling lips asked, “Willis, is this just anger talking, or are you speaking the truth under the influence of alcohol?”

Willis raised his hand to his forehead, somewhat irritably saying, “I’ve had too much to drink. I might say things that upset you. Just go.”

Afraid that he might say something even more cruel, afraid that the situation might escalate irreversibly, Susan, teary-eyed, reluctantly left.

After she left, Willis called her father to keep an eye on his daughter, preventing her from attempting suicide again.

The next day at noon.

Antique Attic.

Helena received a bank card sent by someone on behalf of Willis.

The person delivering the card said, “Helena, this is a little compensation from Mr. Santana. The password is your birthday.”

Helena looked at the card and smiled self-mockingly.