You Said I Was A Gold Digger, Why Are You Crying Now That I'm Divorced?

"Attorney, please draft a divorce agreement for me. I want a divorce."

"Madam, both husband and wife need to sign the divorce agreement. Didn’t your husband come today?"

Emma Bennett fell silent for a few seconds.

An hour ago, the brother who had been in the hospital for treatment of blood cancer suddenly became seriously ill, but Michael listened to the advice of his secretary Samantha and thought that Emma was a gold digger who was only with him for money. Therefore, he cut off the medical expenses for his brother who was in the operating room, causing his brother to bleed to death.

“I’ll have him sign it,” she replied flatly.

Just as she was about to go home, Michael's competitor sent a message: I heard that your brother needs medical expenses? Sell me the secrets of Michael's company. If you don't want to, I believe your husband's lover Samantha will be interested.

Emma didn't reply, but turned around and booked a flight to leave. Although she was tired of Michael, she was still unwilling to do the bad thing of reselling other people's company secrets. She just wanted to divorce quickly, get rid of Michael, and devote herself to the research of special drugs for blood cancer, so that more people would have a chance to survive.

——

Back at the villa, she walked in quietly, her steps light but her heart heavy. She placed the divorce papers on the table in front of Michael Grant. Her gaze, dull and distant, landed briefly on him and then on the woman lounging in his arms.

In three years of marriage, no one could count how many women Michael had brought into their home. He never cared whether she saw or not—perhaps he wanted her to.

“Michael, let’s get a divorce.”

“Divorce?”

He blinked, surprised for a moment. Then he looked up, calm as ever, an eyebrow lifting with practiced arrogance.

“You really want a divorce?”

He slowly pushed Samantha Warren out of his embrace, a smile ghosting the corner of his lips. He stood, walked to her, and casually pinched her chin between his fingers.

“Emma, what game are you playing now?”

“You crawled into my bed for money. Now that your brother isn’t cured yet, you’re ready to leave? Not after money anymore? Or is it…”

He paused, his tone turning cold, gaze piercing.

“Or have you found some new rich boy willing to foot the hospital bills?”

His grip tightened, fingers digging into her jaw. His expression was full of mockery and suspicion.

But when he mentioned her brother, Emma’s eyes dimmed with grief.

She clenched her teeth, lips trembling. Her nails dug deep into her palm as she fought the rising tide of sorrow.

Michael didn’t know. He had no idea that his brother, Daniel Bennett, had passed away just yesterday.

“Don’t look at me with that pitiful expression. Do you think I’ll fall for it again?”

He suddenly flung her hand aside with force.

“Don’t try these pathetic tricks on me. You make me sick.”

Emma closed her eyes, the ache in her chest deepening. I’m sorry, brother. This is the only way to get free.

“You’re right. I do need money,” she admitted calmly. “This is the hospital’s diagnosis. The rest are fee breakdowns. Please sign.”

She slipped the divorce agreement between the medical documents. She knew how he worked—what he would ignore, what he would skim.

“Emma, beg me.”

It was always like this. Since marrying him, those words—please—had become her bitter refrain.

Please take my brother to the hospital.

Please take your medicine; your ulcer will get worse.

Please don’t go to that hotel—I saw Jason Sinclair Canary’s messages…

Each plea had been a humiliation, each one ignored or met with disdain.

She stood up slowly, her limbs stiff from the emotional weight. Then she bowed deeply, a full 180 degrees. Her voice was hollow.

“Please.”

“Please.”

“Please.”

Raising her head, she looked at Ethan Sterling, who sat silently in the corner, his face unreadable.

“Is that enough?” she asked softly, almost in a whisper.

There was blood at the corner of her lips from where she had bitten down too hard.

The man’s chest rose and fell with a visible breath.

“Mr. Grant, my sister looks awful. Didn’t you promise to take me shopping today? Just sign it. Treat it like tossing a coin to a beggar.”

Michael turned to look at Emma with disgust. Something flashed in his eyes—perhaps irritation, or simply boredom. He didn’t bother checking the papers. He flipped straight to the signature page and scrawled his name.

Then he turned back to Samantha, lifted her chin, and kissed her deeply, making a show of his affection.

“Didn’t you say you liked that pink diamond necklace? Today’s a good day. I’ll buy it for you.”

He pulled her close again, his hand roaming to her waist and squeezing her as if marking ownership.

“Ah! Really? Thank you so much, Mr. Grant.”

Samantha giggled and kissed his cheek, her arms wrapped tightly around him as she nestled into his embrace.

Without a second glance at Emma, Michael walked out of the study with his mistress in tow.

Left behind, Emma stared at their retreating backs, the pain in her heart finally spilling over. Her tears came silently, streaming down her cheeks.

Three years. Three years of living with insults, silence, cold shoulders, and betrayal.

Three years ago, he loved her. He wanted to be with her despite his family’s objections. He had been tender, even protective.

But now, he despised her.

Emma’s mother had worked as a maid for the Grant family. When she was young, she and her brother often tagged along to the mansion.

The Grant family, seeing their mother’s struggles, took pity. Since Michael was just two years older than her, they were allowed to play together. They even paid for her schooling—so she could study alongside him.

Over the years, they became close. Their feelings grew quietly but steadily. By the time they were in college, Michael had decided to marry her.

But his parents opposed it bitterly.

Then came the turning point—Daniel’s diagnosis. Leukemia. A death sentence without money.

Her mother, desperate beyond reason, slipped drugs into Michael’s drink and pushed him into bed with Emma.

After that, she cried, screamed, and even threatened to hang herself if Michael refused to marry her daughter.

The Grant family gave in. The wedding was arranged in haste.

From that moment on, everything changed.

“You’re just like your mother,” Michael said coldly. “All you care about is money. Love? Poor people like you don’t know what that is.”

He thought she had schemed it all that she had sacrificed dignity for wealth.

What he never knew was that she had been drugged, too. She hadn’t wanted any of it.

Even when she told him the truth—he didn’t believe her.

In his eyes, she was as deceitful and greedy as her mother.

Now, with her brother gone, she had nothing left. No reason to stay.

Trembling, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number she hadn’t called in years.

“Teacher… is it too late to join the institute?”

“Emma? Of course not. Have you finally made up your mind?”

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“Alright. I’ll reprocess your file today. We’ll pick you up in three days.”

The line went dead.

She lowered the phone, gripping the necklace around her neck. Her father’s last gift before he passed.

“Dad,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect Mom and Daniel like you wanted.”

Once, she believed love could save her. That kindness, effort, and sincerity would be enough.

But life had proven her wrong—again and again.

Now, she didn’t want to love anymore. She didn’t want to beg anymore.

In three days, she would be gone.