A painful marriage: Mr. CEO, let's get a divorce

The bucket of ice-cold water hit Dante Hendricks in the face, waking him up at once.

It was the same bucket the cleaning lady hadn't had time to take away; gray and black water stains slowly trickled down his face.

A foul smell filled his nostrils.

When he turned to look for Abigail, there was no one there.

Still dazed, Dante wiped his face with his hands. Just then, Aunt Lynne hurried out with a towel.

......

Abigail ran along the path.

Her heart was pounding hard.

She didn't know why she had done something like that all of a sudden.

The fear in her chest was like a thin thread wrapping tightly around her, strangling her breath.

If he had treated her like that once, there was no guarantee he wouldn't attack her again.

After all, the rich always had strange ideas, finding pleasure in the pain of others.

Once the impulse passed, only a deep unease and an unshakable fear remained.

She rubbed her arms with both hands; her skin prickled under the cold breeze.

When she reached the street without streetlights as usual, Abigail suddenly sensed movement behind her.

She pulled out her small flashlight and turned it on, spinning around to look. Under the thin beam of white light, there was no one.

But...

Her sixth sense told her someone was there.

With the flashlight in one hand and her small knife in the other, Abigail cautiously retraced her steps.

"Dante Hendricks, is that you?"

"I'm sorry for what happened just now. If you want, I can buy you dinner next time to make up for it. Dante Hendricks? Dante Hendricks, is that you?"

No matter how much Abigail spoke, there was no response nearby.

Wasn't it Dante Hendricks?

With her heart skipping a beat, she pocketed the flashlight and ran forward.

......

"Check on that woman."

In the darkness of the night, a cold voice sounded lazily.

......

The next night, even though Abigail didn't see Dante Hendricks again at the bar, the fear kept her on edge, unable to focus on work.

While serving a customer, she accidentally spilled the wine from one glass while filling another.

......

"Abigail, from the beginning, I told you my Golden Beach isn't a charity home. You offended Mr. Claude first, then Mr. Dante, and now look at you, a complete mess. If you don't want to work, just say it. There are plenty of girls waiting for a spot."

In the dressing room, Aunt Lynne jabbed a finger at Abigail's forehead and yelled.

Abigail lowered her voice and her head. "Aunt Lynne, I'm sorry."

Her trembling fingers intertwined; her entire being was knotted up in her throat.

She couldn't lose this job.

The back of her clothes was already soaked in cold sweat.

"Sorry? Does that help you? Thank goodness Mr. Dante doesn't care too much. You didn't mean to kill him last night, right?" Aunt Lynne raised her hand as if to slap her.

But when only an inch remained between her fingers and Abigail's cheek, she suddenly seemed to remember something and pulled her hand back.

Abigail opened her eyes wide, stunned by Aunt Lynne's restraint.

Aunt Lynne had always been ruthless with people, so that surprised her.

What startled her even more was what she said next. "He doesn't care?"

"If Mr. Dante cared, do you think you'd still be standing here? What are you spacing out for? Hurry and change. The next client is important. Serve him well. Put this on." She tossed a deep V-neck dress at Abigail from the rack.

The neckline was low, revealing much of her youthful figure.

"This... Aunt Lynne, you know I only pour drinks, I don't do other things," Abigail said hesitantly.

"Who do you think you are? Think some big boss will fall in love with you because you're pretty? If you're not going to work, get out," Aunt Lynne snapped.

......

Taking a deep breath, Abigail opened the private room door.

When she saw the man sitting inside, someone with whom she'd had a complicated encounter before, she instinctively stepped back.

The burly man at the door stretched out his arm and blocked her way.

Swallowing her fear, Abigail took a breath and sat beside Randolph. "Sir, I'll pour your wine."

The bottle in her hand clearly trembled.

That man, just like the two times before, was neither fake nor furious; he radiated intimidation.

"Abigail." The soft, stony voice pronounced her name syllable by syllable.

A shiver ran down Abigail's spine. She forced a smile. "Sir, that's indeed my name."

"You look ugly when you smile like that. Dante Hendricks, why are you looking at her?"

The mention of "Dante Hendricks" struck Abigail's nearly blank mind like lightning.

She forced a smile. "Sir, I don't understand what you're talking about."

Suddenly, Randolph gripped her chin tightly; his obsidian eyes seemed to pierce straight into her soul.

Her jaw almost cracked from the pressure, her face twisted painfully. She managed to say, "Sir, if she doesn't please you, I'll find another girl for you."

The next second, she was thrown a meter away, crashing to the floor.

"Sir, you-"

Swallowing hard, Abigail looked up at the man, her gaze filled with unspoken fear and disbelief.

"Why aren't you on your knees yet?" a harsh male voice said, and someone kicked her hard in the back.

The blow made her cough violently.

The one who kicked her was the burly man who had stopped her at the door.

Her face turned pale instantly.

While she was still stunned, the man kicked her again.

Without thinking, Abigail dropped to her knees and bowed her head.

The taste of salt rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

"One million. Leave City B," said a cold, cutting male voice.

"What did you say?" Abigail looked up, eyes wide as she stared at Randolph, utterly shocked.

What was his connection to Dante Hendricks?

The confusion in her heart was no less than her fear.

A second later, Abigail burst out, "Impossible."

"I need this job," she pleaded, her eyes full of desperation.

In front of Randolph, her humiliation was complete.

It was pitiful.

"You don't have the right to negotiate with me," Randolph said, gripping her chin again and staring closely into those defiant eyes.

He had to admit, up close, the woman was quite beautiful.

The sharp pain in Abigail's jaw brought her back to her senses. "Who are you? Who do you think you are?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Her tone carried a string of questions.

"If I wanted to do something to you, I could do it right now," he said coldly.