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

Emma stared at the divorce papers that Michael had just signed, then quietly picked them up and headed out to find a lawyer.

Just as she stepped out of the study and was about to return to the bedroom to pack her things, her phone rang again.

“Hello? Is this Mrs. Grant? Would you like to pick up the dress you ordered, or should we deliver it to your home?”

Hearing the voice on the line, Emma suddenly remembered—last month, she had ordered a custom dress for tonight’s blood cancer charity gala.

Back then, she was still desperately searching for a matching blood donor for Daniel. Mr. Gary Snyder, the gala organizer, had gone to great lengths to help.

Even though Daniel was now gone, she still felt the need to personally thank Mr. Snyder.

Emma picked up the dress and brought it home. Soon enough, it was time to attend the gala.

Wearing the elegant gown, she arrived at the venue—never expecting she would run into Michael and Samantha at the cocktail party.

“Michael, I heard that Master Henry’s painting Stars is part of tonight’s auction. I’ve always loved his work! Can you get it for me as a birthday present?”

Samantha approached, clinging affectionately to Michael’s arm, speaking like a spoiled child.

“Of course. You’re the birthday girl tonight—you get whatever you want.”

Michael paused and glanced at Emma, who was standing not far away. Then he smiled and tapped Samantha’s nose playfully, indulging her.

But their conversation struck Emma like a thunderclap.

Henry was her father. Stars was a painting he had given her as a gift for her tenth birthday.

She was certain Stars had been at home all along—how could it now be part of an auction?

She didn’t stop to think. She strode straight over to them and grabbed Samantha’s dress.

“You… what did you just say?”

Perhaps she had walked too fast—she accidentally knocked over a nearby glass of red wine. The liquid splashed all over Samantha’s skirt.

“Ah! Mrs. Grant, what are you doing?!”

Samantha recoiled in horror, staring at her as if she’d gone mad.

“You said Stars is in tonight’s auction?”

Ignoring her reaction, Emma fixed her eyes on Samantha, desperate to see any sign that she was mistaken.

But Samantha only looked at her in disgust, hastily blotting her dress with napkins.

“Yes. Everyone invited to the auction received the item list. Don’t you have one, Mrs. Grant?”

Emma froze.

Of course. She hadn’t received any formal invitation to the gala. The only reason she had been able to enter was because she was still technically Michael’s wife.

With her eyes turning red, she turned toward Michael, searching for his expression for denial.

But his cold stare gave her all the confirmation that she needed—Stars was indeed being auctioned off tonight.

There was no time to dwell on it. She had to find Mr. Snyder, the organizer. Maybe, just maybe, he would agree not to auction the painting out of respect for their past acquaintance.

But as she turned to leave, Michael’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Stop. You ruined Samantha’s dress, and now you’re just walking away?”

Emma halted, turning slowly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she faced him.

“What do you want?”

“Kneel and apologize.”

His words were so casual, so indifferent—but they struck her like a blow to the chest.

She looked up at him in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“You spilled wine on her dress. She can’t enjoy the party like this anymore. I told you to kneel and apologize. What’s the problem?”

Michael wrapped a sobbing Samantha in his arms and looked down at Emma with a chilling expression.

“Michael, you’ve gone too far!”

Emma’s voice shook with fury, her eyes red and wild.

“So what if I bully you?” he sneered. “What can you do about it?”