Borrow My Car Daily? Enjoy My Divorce Papers

The women inside the car were startled, and all turned to look at me in unison.

Charlotte froze for a moment, but as soon as she realized it was me, her expression instantly darkened. "Olivia? What are you doing here?"

Far from being guilty, she slid out of the car and looked down her nose at me. "What, are you upset because I'm driving your car? For your information, your husband personally handed me the keys! He said that this is his way of making amends on your behalf!"

Ignoring her, I looked straight at the woman, who was smoking. "Put out your cigarette and get out of my car."

That woman sneered, "Who do you think you are? Since when is it your place to police Charlotte's car?"

"I'm the owner." I snatched the cigarette right out of her hand, threw it onto the ground, and stomped it out. "Now, get the hell out of my car!"

Noticing how firm I was, the women all turned to Charlotte.

Humiliated in front of her friends, Charlotte flew into a rage. "Don't you dare push your luck, Olivia! Your husband practically begged me to accept this car as a tribute, and you dare to come here and bark at us? Believe it or not, but with just one phone call, I'll have your husband packing his bags and kicked to the curb!"

Screaming at the top of her lungs, she raised her designer bag and smashed it hard against the center console. With a sharp crack, the object embedded in the rosewood right at the center of the console—the one that had always been meticulously protected—was smashed to pieces.

It was an extremely rare, antique enamel mechanical pocket watch. It was the keepsake left to me by my late grandfather.

For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. I stared long and hard at the pile of shattered components, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

Charlotte seemed to realize that she had broken something, but after taking a look at it, she curled her lip in disdain. "It's just a dingy old clock. I'll have my husband compensate you with 100 dollars to buy a new one later!"

Just then, my phone started ringing frantically. It was Elliot. I answered the call mechanically.

Elliot's hysterical barking blasted through the phone. "Have you lost your mind, Olivia? Why on earth did you go find Mrs. Blackwell? Mr. Blackwell just called to tell me you insulted his wife in public, and he's canceling all of our collaborations!"

Shrieking at the top of his lungs from absolute fright and anger, he continued, "I order you to get down on your knees and apologize to Mrs. Blackwell right this instant! Furthermore, you're going to sign over the deed to that car today and give it straight to Mrs. Blackwell as compensation for her mental distress! If you so much as whisper a breath of protest, we're getting a divorce immediately! In fact, you can pack your bags and get the hell out of my house!"

With the most vicious words, he trampled all over my dignity. Listening to the man's roars over the phone, looking at Charlotte's arrogant face before me, and then staring at the shattered pocket watch, the last shred of illusion I had about this marriage completely went up in smoke.

"Alright," I responded calmly.

Elliot thought I had compromised, and his tone softened slightly. "I'm glad you know what's good for you. Hurry up and get on your knees to apologize and leave your keys behind—"

Without listening to the rest of his ramblings, I hung up on him. Then, I dialed the number in my contact list that I had kept hidden for three years.

"Theodore," I called out coldly.

"Ms. Callahan, you've finally contacted me!" From the other end of the line came an old man's voice, trembling with sheer excitement.

"Get the corporate legal department and our security team to the Imperial Galleria downtown immediately. My car has been smashed."