Chapter 67


    Chapter 67


    Megan stood frozen as Sullivan retreated to the bathroom.


    Soon after the sound of running water filled the air, mingled with the asional low baritone hum of a


    man at his ablutions.


    Megan was a grown woman. She surmised that Sullivan was in there taking care of his physical needs.


    After about twenty minutes, Sullivan emerged from the bathroom d in a typical white bathrobe. Its


    cor slightly ajar, revealing his pale, firm chest detted with droplets of water that tmiled down his torso.


    Sullivan paid no mind to it. He strode over and stood silently by the bedside, observing Megan lost in


    thought


    Eventually, Megan lifted her gaze to meet his


    Theers of her eyes were tinged red, and her gaze was misty with unshed tears. No wornan could


    stand such cruel treatment from her husband, even if she had endured this kind of marriage for three


    years.


    She thought she’d grown ustomed to it.


    Sullivan’s gaze fell upon her pitiful little face, unmoved. Any sympathy he might have harbored for


    Megan had beenpletely erased by a mere cake.


    And it wasn’t just anyone–it was Begonia.


    Sullivan’s eyes darkened, his voice was calm and restrained, as if he had wrestled with a great


    decision. Locking eyes with Megan, he dered. “I won’t divorce you!”


    Megan’s lips quivered.


    Sullivan allowed himself a faint, detached smile, then continued, “Megan, I won’t give you to Begonia.


    He


    tossed a document envelope onto the bedside table.


    Megan realized what it was. She grabbed the envelope, her hands trembling as she tore it open with


    frantic haste. Inside were pieces of what once was a whole document.


    A tom–up divorce agreement, with Sullivan’s signature on it


    Now, ity in shreds.


    Megan watched, dazed, as she blinked back the sting in her eyes.


    Freedom had once brushed so close, and now, because of a cake, Sullivan withdrew thest shred of


    mercy, deciding never to let her


    Megan stared at the torn documents for so long that her eyes began to ache. Then, she raised her


    eyes to Sullivan, her voice shaky, “Sullivan, I can let go of everything.”


    Her plea was almost servile.


    But Sullivan was unmoved, a man of business, known for his heart of stone. He waited for his wife to


    calm down.


    N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    Only then could they continue to discuss things rationally.


    He watched as the hope in Megan’s eyes turned to disillusionment, watched as her expression sank


    into despair. He thought it was just as well–he didn’t need a wife who was overly emotional.


    Emotions, after all, were the most useless thing in the world.


    Finally, the hospital room fell silent.


    Not just silent, but eerily so.


    Sullivan broke the stillness, speaking in a detached, businesslike tone, “Megan, everything in this world


    has a price. Marriage does! So do feelings! If there isn’t one yet, it just means the price hasn’t been


    agreed upon!”


    Sullivan looked down, his gazemanding as he surveyed his wife.


    Megan’s face was ashen.


    Yet still, he continued relentlessly, “I need you to be Mrs. Lowry! Whether it’s because you’re


    presentable, or my own desires, I don’t feel like changing wives right now! And since you’ve been


    reluctant to resume your role as Mrs. Lowry, well then, Megan.. let’s talk about the price!”


    Megan was no fool.


    Sullivan suddenly chuckled his hand caressing her cheek softly, his voice getle as a whisper. “What you


    want most in Wyatta. heedom isn’t a? When you fought with me even during our most intimate


    moments, you said you didn’t like me, all because i didn’t support vous famih. That I didnt help Wysht


    Fine, now 111 help you, but remember Megan, this in’t about affection, this


    the cost for you toe back to me and be Mic Lowry?