Divorce, Please: The Young Master Does Not Love Me-Chapter 65: Air

Tristan Grayson furiously threw her onto the bed. "Do you really think you can leave me just because we’re divorced? Let me tell you, that’s impossible. From the moment you married me, you were fated to be mine for life. Until I say this is over, don’t even think about taking a single step away from me."

"Tristan Grayson, we’re nothing to each other anymore! What right do you have to keep controlling my life? You don’t even like me, so why won’t you just let me go?" For three years, he had controlled every moment of her life. She had accepted it because, nominally at least, he was her husband. But now? They were divorced. Why was he still acting like this?

Tristan Grayson ignored her. He felt that the more he spoke to this woman, the angrier he became.

’The best way to avoid doing something rash in a fit of anger is to not speak to her. Just treat her like she’s not even there.’

He turned and walked to the closet, intending to grab some clothes for her. But when he opened the doors and saw it was completely empty, he froze.

After standing there stunned for three seconds, a thought struck him, and he headed for the bathroom. Just as he’d suspected, all of her toiletries and skincare products were gone too.

’So, she was already prepared to leave him?’

He remembered seeing a suitcase when he went to the press conference with her that day. He just hadn’t paid it any mind at the time.

But looking at it now, it seemed she really had been planning to leave him ever since then.

Tristan Grayson suddenly felt exhausted. He took two steps back and leaned against the wall, trying desperately to calm himself and forcing a composed expression.

He used to wish for nothing more than for her to disappear completely from his life. But now, when he discovered she actually wanted to leave him, he was filled with such shock and anger.

’What in the world is wrong with me?’

’Why am I feeling all these complicated emotions?’

Just then, the phone in his pocket let out a BEEP.

He suppressed his complex emotions, his usual calm and indifferent mask slipping back into place. He pulled out his phone, glanced at it, and walked out of the bathroom.

He shot a cold glance at the woman on the bed and said, "Get dressed and come out. I’ll be waiting for you outside."

With that, he left the bedroom.

Mika Summers only snapped back to reality when she heard the front door slam shut.

Although she didn’t know what Tristan Grayson was planning, she wiped away her tears, got off the bed, and went to wash her face. She picked up her clothes from the floor, put them on, and forced herself to pull a smile onto her face—a smile that was a hundred times uglier than her crying.

She muttered to herself, trying to take things in stride. "It’s just death at worst. Nothing to be sad about."

"Sometimes, death is the best solution to a troublesome problem."

"If you want to completely escape this life, the only way is death. Mika Summers, congratulations. You’ll be free soon. You shouldn’t be sad; you should be happy."

’She would escape Tristan Grayson. Sooner or later, she would escape him.’

’Once her grandmother’s funeral is over, she’ll be rid of Tristan Grayson for good.’

Outside, Tristan Grayson sat in his car, chain-smoking. He didn’t have a habit of smoking—not with Maggie Monroe in the picture—but today, he suddenly had a desperate craving. It felt like only cigarettes could soothe his complicated state of mind.