When I asked him this question a few months ago, he pondered for a moment before saying seriously, "Ava is so innocent, and I don't want her to be a mistress. She is my girlfriend."
I suddenly laughed.
I couldn't help but ask him, "What about me? After six years of marriage, what am I?"
Eric always looked at me with a gaze filled with pity, a pity that bordered on indifference.
"Seraphina, you are sick after all. You can't spend the rest of your life with me.
I know you love me, and I'm sure you don't want to see me lonely and alone in my old age. You also want to see someone love me, right?"
At that moment, I understood.
Some men were destined to be heartless.
Ever since Eric bought a villa for Ava's dog, I made up my mind to divorce.
I transferred as much money and property as possible under my name, sending some to my mother and some to my best friend.
Even if something were to happen to me, I hoped they would be able to live better lives.
After sorting out all the evidence for the divorce, I drove to the company.
The receptionist raised her eyebrows in surprise when she saw me and smiled. "Mrs. Marshall, why are you here? It's been a while since we last saw you!"