Chapter 9 — Hundred Million in Exchange for Freedom

But he couldn't find it. Because there isn't any. I really don't care anymore. And this "not caring" — pierced his heart even deeper than any crying and tantrums. I can see it. His pupils shrank slightly.

“You really… don't care anymore?”

“Yes.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit.”

The silence spreads. He lowered his eyes, his lips pressed into a straight line. After a while, he spoke, his voice a bit hoarse:

“So the baby —”

“The agreement is clearly written, it belongs to me. You signed it. Don't talk about other things with me.”

“My mother —”

“Your mother's thoughts are not important. On the legal document is your name, not her name.”

He was silent again. Looking at his appearance, a strange calmness arose in my heart. Three years ago when I married him, I thought he was the most handsome man in the world, cool, talented, and responsible. Looking back now — that's all.

"If there's nothing else to do, I'll go," I picked up my bag, "Your guests are still waiting for you, including the new bride."

I open the door. After taking two steps, I remembered something and turned back to look.

“That's right, Tran Dien.”

“Hmm.”

“Have you ever thought — if you had treated me a little better before, even just a little.”

I looked deeply into his eyes.

“What you lost is probably much larger than 100 million yuan.”

His face finally showed a crack. Not angry. Not resigned. It was — A moment of confusion. Like realizing something for the first time. But it's just a moment. The next second, he retracted that expression, restoring his cold, life-or-death face.

“Go away.” he said.

I left. When I stepped out of the hotel door, the sun was already heading west. The kids in my stomach started to stir again.

“Are you hungry?” I bowed my head and whispered, "Okay, mom will take you guys to eat hot pot."

On the way to the taxi, the phone received a new message. Another strange number.

"To Duong, you are very proud today, right? It's okay, the pride won't last for long. Wait until I officially become Mrs. Tran, do you think you can still keep that 100 million? —— Lam Tu Vien."

I looked at the message and smirked. Three-word response:

“Have you eaten yet?”

The other party remained silent for half a day without replying. Probably confused. Then I added another piece of news:

"I'm going to eat hot pot. I won't chat with you anymore. I wish you and Tran Dien a hundred years of happiness. Truly. From the bottom of my heart, I bless you. After all, the pot of bitter medicine his mother brewed, I'll let you drink it later."

After sending, I definitely threw this number into the blacklist. Fragrant hot pot. The meat is tender. Crispy beef dip dipped in roasted sesame sauce, take a bite. Happy. This is the life of someone with money. 【Chapter 8】 The days passed peacefully until the 6th month. My belly was as big as carrying a watermelon. No, three watermelons. During the prenatal examination, everything was normal, the three babies were well developed and uniform in size. The doctor said their condition was extremely ideal. Ha Lo visits my apartment two or three times a week, bringing all kinds of supplements and newborn items. My life is incredibly regulated — wake up at 8 a.m., drink pregnant milk, eat nutritious rice, go for a half-hour walk, read a book in the afternoon, go online to buy a crib and stroller, and go to bed at 9:30 on time. Have money, have leisure, no have a husband. Truly a peaceful world. Until one afternoon. I was lying on the sofa studying the design of the triplets' room, when the doorbell rang. When Tuong Ha Lo arrived, I opened the door. Not. It's Tran Dien. He stood in front of my house, his jacket open, his tie half loosened, his hair not as neatly arranged as before - there were a few strands falling across his forehead. The dark circles under my eyes were green, like I hadn't slept well in a few days. My first reaction was to close the door.