Later that night, the slightly tipsy Donald came home. He was supported by Olivia Perez, his assistant. When Olivia saw me, she ordered me like she was the hostess, "Hurry up and make some hangover soup for Mr. Hernandez! Otherwise, he will feel horrible later on."
I stayed in my place and did not do anything except look at them coldly.
Under my cold gaze, Donald felt uneasy so he shouted at me, "Why are you still standing there? I have been working so hard for this family's sake. I even have to drink and socialize and this is how you treat me when I get home? Even my assistant knows better. Do you want to stay married to me or not?"
In the past, I would have rushed to make the hangover soup, afraid even a slight delay would cause him discomfort. However, now? I did not care. I slammed the divorce papers right in his face.
"No! I don't want to do this anymore. You can divorce me. If your little assistant is so considerate, she can look after you for twenty-four seven."
Donald was stunned. After a while, he bent down to pick up the divorce papers from the floor. The two of them, who had been practically glued to each other since they entered, finally pulled apart.