You Scorned My Love, So Why Are You Kneeling When I Asked for a Divorce?

...

Meanwhile, Holly Sinclair was having hot pot with her best friend, Wendy Wyatt.

Holly was deeply troubled.

That morning, she had deliberately threatened Tristan Sterling, but his attitude was resolute. It seemed her bluff hadn’t worked on him.

If this tactic failed, where was she supposed to find ten million?

"Honey, don’t look so down. If that bastard Tristan Sterling refuses to pay up tomorrow, we’ll just figure something else out. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. We’ll definitely scrape together ten million."

Wendy Wyatt poured two glasses of alcohol and placed one in front of her best friend, consoling her.

Holly tried to smile to show she was fine.

But she couldn’t.

Scrape it together?

This was ten million, not a thousand.

It wasn’t that easy to come up with.

It seemed this studio was just going to slip through her fingers.

"Alright, alright, stop worrying. I’ll cover half of it for you."

Wendy downed a large gulp of her drink and slammed the glass down, declaring magnanimously.

Holly frowned at her. "Where would you get that much money?"

Wendy’s situation was even worse than her own.

Wendy was the true heiress of the Wyatt Family, but she wasn’t valued by them and had to walk on eggshells at home.

She also had a terrible adoptive father and brother who, like disgusting leeches, had been bleeding her dry for years.

Even though she was in the entertainment industry now, she was being maliciously suppressed. Unable to get resources from her agency, she could only take on minor, insignificant roles.

The pay was pitiful.

So, where would she get five million?

"I still have a necklace. It should be worth three or four million. As for the remaining one or two million..."

Wendy picked up a piece of tripe with her chopsticks, placed it in her friend’s bowl, and gave her a wink. In a devil-may-care tone, she said, "I’ll go swindle it."

"You’re going to see Nathan Fletcher?"

Holly hit the nail on the head.

The last time she saw Wendy getting into Nathan Fletcher’s car, she had pressed her, and Wendy had come clean about their relationship.

Wendy was Nathan Fletcher’s canary.

Nathan Fletcher wasn’t stingy, but Wendy was saddled with a shameless adoptive father who came to her for money every other day.

If Wendy dared to refuse, her adoptive mother would suffer.

So Wendy was never well-off.

Although her friend had a casual, breezy tone when she mentioned the necklace, Holly knew in her heart that it must be something she cared about very, very much.

"That bastard’s as sharp as a tack. Who could possibly swindle him? I’m not going to him," Wendy said, though she didn’t mean it.

"Don’t you dare!" Holly’s brow furrowed, her eyes filled with heartache. "Wendy, your relationship is already unequal. You can’t—"

"Don’t worry, sweetie, I know my limits." Wendy flirtatiously swept her hair back, smiling heedlessly.

Her relationship with Nathan Fletcher was purely physical, not emotional.

That’s why she didn’t care if their relationship was equal or not.

’Right, I don’t care!’

"Wendy!"

After years of being best friends, how could Holly not see that Wendy was lying? Her eyes were filled with disapproval.

"Alright, alright." Wendy just laughed, unconcerned, and changed the subject. "You should be thinking about how to get the other five million."

Holly put down her chopsticks, deflated like a punctured ball. "Maybe... maybe I should just give up on the studio."

"No way!"

Wendy objected. "Becoming a top cheongsam designer is your dream. You can’t just give up so easily."

"I’m not giving up, just... delaying it..."

"But there’s a ready-made studio available right now! You could take it over and start operating immediately. Most importantly, you’ll never find a price this good again."

Wendy said urgently, not wanting her best friend to give up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Holly fell silent.

Everything Wendy said was right.

But even a hero can be thwarted by the lack of a single penny.

Seeing Holly’s melancholy expression, Wendy suddenly thought of the one who had caused all this trouble in the first place.

"That scoundrel Tristan Sterling! He doesn’t want to love you, but he won’t divorce you either. What the hell does he want?"

Wendy gritted her teeth, indignant. "I just don’t get it. Is his head just there to make him taller? Can’t he tell good from evil, beauty from ugliness? That little bitch Vivian Linton isn’t even in the same league as you. She’s not as beautiful, not as capable, and she’s a grade-A green tea bitch. What the hell does he see in her?"

Wendy ranted furiously.

Holly picked up her glass and downed it in one go.

The bitter taste of the beer was just like the feeling in her heart.

"Vivian Linton is his savior," Holly said faintly.

"So are you!!" Wendy blurted out, unconvinced.

"I’m not." Holly shook her head, her smile turning even more bitter.

"You’re not? Back then, that car was about to explode, and you were the one who risked your life to drag him out! If it weren’t for you, the grass on his grave would be three feet tall by now!"

Wendy grew even more incensed, her voice shooting up in volume.

Holly quickly put some food on her plate, gesturing for her to lower her voice. She sighed, "But he only saw Vivian Linton saving him."

Five years ago, Tristan Sterling got into a car accident in the suburbs. It just so happened that she was on a sketching trip with Vivian Linton—who was still her good friend at the time—and a few other classmates.

Tristan Sterling’s car had rolled down a hill, and he was unconscious.

The overturned car was leaking fuel.

It was about to explode.

At that moment, she was alone at the scene; the other students were by a stream somewhere else.

The situation was critical. With no time to get help, she recklessly rushed forward and dragged the unconscious Tristan Sterling out of the car.

She had only managed to drag him a few difficult steps before the car exploded with a BOOM.

The blast wave knocked her unconscious.

When she woke up in the hospital, the news was plastered everywhere with reports of Vivian Linton’s heroic deed of saving Tristan Sterling.

The reports said that a second explosion had occurred, and Vivian Linton had shielded Tristan Sterling with her own body. Her left leg was hit by a piece of flying shrapnel...

It had to be amputated.

The two of them announced they were in a relationship the very next day.

"You have to tell him!" Wendy said, exasperated.

Holly gave a helpless, self-deprecating laugh. "Right. I run up to him and say, ’I saved you, too.’ And then what? What do you think he’d think of me?"

In that situation, if she had said anything, she would have just looked like a scheming woman trying to steal Vivian Linton’s credit.

After all, Vivian Linton was the savior Tristan Sterling had acknowledged.

With no one to vouch for her, why would she subject herself to that humiliation?

"So you’re just going to let Vivian Linton take all the credit?" Wendy was both unconvinced and indignant.

"He saved me once before. I saved him once. We’re even," Holly said with a shrug, trying hard to look unfazed.

But Wendy knew she was just saying that so she wouldn’t worry, swallowing all the bitterness herself.

"Forget it, forget it. Let’s not talk about this anymore. Drink up, drink up." Wendy’s heart ached for her. Unwilling to see her best friend suffer any longer, she ended the unpleasant topic.

She filled their glasses, and they were just about to clink them together.

Suddenly, a large hand shot out and seized Holly’s wrist in a vise-like grip.

It yanked hard.

CRASH!

The glass flew from her hand, shattering into pieces on the floor.

Stunned, Holly looked up.

Her gaze met a pair of sinister eyes.

It was Tristan Sterling.

"Holly Sinclair, you really have some nerve!!"