Chapter 3
Three days later, Sullivan returned to Borough City
As the evening sky melted into twilight, a gleaming black limousine slowly rolled into the driveway of a grand estate and came to a
stop.
The driver opened the car door.
Sullivan got out of the car, closed the rear door behind him and, upon seeing the driver ready to take his luggage, he waved him off, “I’ll take it from bere ”
No sooner had he entered the grand foyer than the housekeeper approached “Sir, there’s been trouble with Mrs. Lowry’s father recently. The lady has been quite upset. She is upstairs now”
Sullivan was already aware of the Quigley family’s predicament.
With a subtle frown of concern, he carried his suitcase upstairs, pushed open the bedroom door and found Megan at the vanity, sorting through her belongings.
Setting his luggage down, Sullivan loosened his te, sat on the edge of the bed, and observed his wife.
Megan had always enjoyed doing household chores since they morried–organizing, baking cookies… If it weren’t for her stunning looks and figure, Sullivan might as well have taken her as a housekeeper in his mind.
Megan remained silent for a long while.
Sullivan, tired from his business trip and seeing that she wasn’t speaking, didn’t bother to initiate conversation… He headed into the closet, took a bathrobe to the shower room. While he was showering, he thought that given Megan’s timid nature, by the time he finished, she would have cooled down, unpacked his suitcase, and slipped back into the role of a docile wife.
He was quite certain of it.
Thus, when he came out of the bathroom to find his suitcase untouched, he felt the need to talk to her..
Sullivan sat on the sofa and casually picked up a magazine to read.
After a while, he looked up at her and said, “How’s your father condition? I’ve already reprimanded Blanca about what happened that night
His said it lightly, seemingly insincere.
Megan put down what she was holding, looked up, and met his gaze in the mirror.
In the mirror, Sullivan’s features were sharp, his demeanor aristocratic. Even in a simple bathrobe, he looked better than anyone else.
Megan watched for a long time until her eyes were sore, then said calmly, “Sullivan, let’s get a divorce!”
Sullivan was visibly surprised. He knew Megan must have been upset about the incident that night, and although he had Bianca rush to the hospital as soon as he heard about the Quigley family’s troubles, Megan did not accept it.
This was the first time she had gone against him, she had always been compliant before.
Sullivan turned to pick up a cigarette box from the coffee table, took one out, lit it and took a drag. After a moment, thin wisps of smoke slowly drifted out. He spoke softly, “A few days ago, you said you wanted to go to work, how come.. now you’re talking about divorce? Tired of being Mrs. Lowry, wanting to experience life outside? Megan, go and see how many people out there work overtime and endure others‘ attitudes just for a meager salary? Megan, you live in a 2000–square–foot villa as Mrs. Lowry, what’s there to be dissatisfied with?”
His tone was cold and indifferent.
Finally, Megan couldn’t bear it anymore. Her lips trembled as she gave a faint smile, “Mrs. Lowry? Am I really Mrs. Lowry?”
She stood up suddenly, pulled Sullivan to the closet, and with a swish, slid open the doors to reveal a row of jewelry cabinets, all secured with password locks–locks to which only Blanca knew the combinations.
Pointing at the locked cabinets, Megan laughed sarcastically, “Which wife needs to get clearance from her husband’s secretary to even touch a piece of jewelry? Which wife has to file an submission for every cent she spends? Which wife steps out without even enough money for a cab fare? Sullivan, tell me, is this how Mrs. Lowry is supposed to live?”
