Then Ryan added smugly:
“Mr. Carter, about your brother dying in the industrial mixer—Olivia already punished me for it.”
I couldn’t stomach another second. I blocked him on the spot.
Then I called Mrs. Johnson.
“Your son is dead. What about the funeral?”
She was gambling at the poker table when she answered, and instantly erupted.
“Michael Carter, you bastard, who are you cursing? You’re the one who’s dead! Your whole family is dead!”
“I’m busy—if you call again to harass me, I’ll make sure you regret it!”
The line cut off with a series of harsh beeps.
Looking at Daniel Carter’s photo, my eyes softened with pity.
Now I finally understood why Daniel had hidden the fact that he worked at his sister’s factory, begging me not to tell anyone.
With a mother addicted to gambling, and a family like this, his life had been nothing but a lonely battle.
Just then, my lawyer sent over the divorce agreement. I called Olivia.
“Come home when you have time. First, attend the funeral. Second, sign the divorce agreement.”
For the past two years, Olivia had been punishing me for refusing to have children, constantly running around with other men. Ryan was only the latest in a long line.