At my words, Gideon threw his head back and laughed.
"I knew you’d hide behind Everett! Lucky for me, I came prepared."
With a smug grin, he pulled out his phone in front of the crowd, dialed a number, and after a few rings, pressed the speaker button.
Everett’s voice came through loud and clear.
"Desmond, I want a divorce."
The entire room fell silent.
I remained expressionless. "Judging from your tone, Everett, you must have found a new ‘buyer,’ haven’t you?"
I could practically hear the excitement in her voice.
"Name your price," she said. "As long as you agree to the divorce, you can have whatever amount you want."
She avoided answering my question directly, but I wasn’t in a rush. This was a slow game—like boiling a frog in warm water.
I let out a soft chuckle. "No need to pay me. I believe the Whitaker Family will collapse soon enough."
Then, my tone turned cold and sharp as a blade.
"I just want to know one thing—who dared to take a woman from me?"
Everett scoffed. "You don’t deserve to know his name."
"But I’ll tell you this—he’s from London. He’s at a level you’ll never reach in your lifetime."