Chapter 2 — Hundred Million in Exchange for Freedom

"No matter how high his company's valuation is, if they go to court to divide assets, it will take at least 1-2 years. After 1-2 years, my child will know how to call mom, I don't have time to get involved."

“But ——”

“Besides,” I paused, lowering my voice, “He doesn't know I'm pregnant with triplets.”

Ha Lo held her breath for a moment.

“You haven't told him yet?”

“When he texted me asking for a divorce, I was lying on the ultrasound bed.” I looked at the city speeding by outside the window and smiled, "He didn't even know I was pregnant and wanted to abort them. Guess how special his expression will be when he knows the truth?"

“Are you going to use me to threaten him?”

"No, I told you," I said firmly, "I didn't give him any children. The divorce agreement clearly stated that the children belong to me. He used 100 million yuan to buy them out. Later, when he found out there were three children, I looked up to see his face."

Ha Lo was silent for three seconds. Then she exploded into crazy laughter: “Hahaha To Duong you are so cruel!!!”

“It's not that I'm evil.” I rubbed my belly. “It's because he's stupid.”

Back home — no, back to the apartment named after Tran Dien that I've lived in for three years. I started packing my things. Speaking of cleaning, there really isn't much to clean up. Three years. In this 300 square meter luxury apartment, my belongings are pitifully few. Some seasonal clothes, an iPad, two half-read books. Before, I found this very normal. After all, his mother always said that if you marry into the Tran family, you must follow the Tran family's rules: don't waste money, don't go out to work, and don't make random friends. 3,000 yuan of living expenses is already a "grace". Huh. Thinking of this, the act of stuffing the iPad into my pocket became even more light and fun. The phone rings, it's Tran Dien.

“Are you at home?”

“Yes, packing.”

Silent again. He probably didn't expect me to start packing so quickly.

“To Duong, are you really not going to hold on a little longer?”

It sounds funny. It's like I'm on my knees begging him.

"Tran Dien," I squatted in front of the wardrobe, neatly folded each outfit and put it in the suitcase, "You spend 100 million to make me leave. If I hold on, will you not give me any more money?"

“Do you only care about money?”

“Don't you only care about your white moonlight?”

His breathing was a bit heavy. I continued, my tone cheerful as if I was discussing what to eat for lunch tomorrow:

"We are even. You pursue your true love, I count my money. Each person takes a step back, the sea is wide and the sky is high."

“To Duong, I didn't expect you to be that kind of person.”

Oh. He still has the face to be disappointed. Three years ago, the guy who gave his wife 3,000 yuan every month was criticizing me for only caring about money. This irony is like a person who never feeds a cat blaming the cat for not being affectionate with its owner. I didn't mind, just asked one question: "Tomorrow afternoon at 2 o'clock, the law office you booked, I will arrive on time. Do you need me to bring anything else?" He was silent for a long time. It took so long that I thought he had turned off the phone. Then he uttered a sentence, his voice carrying an emotion I had never heard from him:

“Are you really… not sad at all?”

I'm dumbfounded. Then I remembered. Remember 3 years ago Marrying him, my mind was filled with expectations for marriage. Thinking back to the first month of the honeymoon, he worked overtime for two consecutive weeks and didn't come home. I called to ask if he needed to bring food. He snapped: "Don't come to the company to make me lose face." I remember the afternoon his mother first forced me to drink a bowl of black medicine, I vomited three times, he sat outside in the living room playing games, not even bothering to take off his headphones. Remembering the time I had a high fever of 39 degrees 7, calling him, what I heard was Lam Tu Vien's laughter.