That night, the hospital remained brightly lit, all for that woman's superficial injury.
At dawn, I called him. He didn’t even realize it was me at first, because he was busy issuing instructions to his secretary.
“Mr. Harris, are you sure you want to revise the contract? The losses that the company has to suffer will be more than tens of millions of dollars if we do this project. Please, you'd better consider this carefully," his secretary pleaded.
“No need. Revise it!" Matt stated. "It’s what I promised her as compensation. Also, draft another agreement transferring half of the company shares to Taylor.”
After the secretary left, Matt finally remembered the connected call and talked to the phone, "Fiona? I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I’ll be home soon. Did you need something?”
I glanced at my bandaged hand, the burn was still raw and stinging then answered, "It's okay. Take your time to do your work. I won’t bother you.”
“Alright. Be good and wait at home for me," He said, "I’ll be back soon.”
However, I had done waiting. Instead, I signed the divorce papers, packed my belongings and left.