Chapter 627 Samuel Goes Crazy: Taylor, Who Is He? 5
Samuel had never looked so disheveled.
After seven years of marriage, they had finally reached the breaking point—no more second chances, no more mercy. Taylor hadn't emerged from this marriage unscathed; she carried her own wounds.
Samuel felt utterly humiliated.
He glared at Taylor, then stalked off to his study to call a doctor. He had an important board meeting tomorrow and couldn't afford to show up with a bandaged head.
As Samuel examined his injury in the study's glass cabinet, he suddenly noticed lipstick stains on his white shirt. He remembered Taylor hadn't worn makeup today. Was this Zenobia's lipstick?
Samuel's mood plummeted.
Just then, frantic footsteps echoed from outside, along with the sound of heavy luggage being moved.
Samuel's heart lurched.
He rushed out to find moving company workers bustling back and forth with Taylor's belongings, their noise echoing through the hallway late into the night.
Taylor, his wife, had already slipped on a black coat, looking crisp and efficient as she carried a 20-inch suitcase toward the stairs.
Samuel ignored his bleeding head and chased after her. "Taylor, what are you doing?"
Taylor let out a cold laugh. "Samuel, our marriage is over. There's no point in continuing to live together. Tomorrow my lawyer will deliver the divorce papers to your office. I hope you'll find time to read them carefully. This is a fresh start for both of us—and a reasonable ending."
She was too rational.
Dodging the movers, he sneered back at Taylor, "You think you can just decide we're getting divorced? I haven't agreed to a divorce. I've never even considered it."
Taylor looked at him quietly, then pulled out her phone and sent Samuel a message.
It was a video.
Nothing else but footage of Samuel and Zenobia passionately kissing in the car—fresh, heated, and unmistakable.
Taylor's voice remained perfectly level, "Samuel, it's not about what you want. It's what has to happen."
Without another word, she left with her luggage and the Montague family servants.
She departed that night with great fanfare, just as noisy as their wedding had been. Taylor was Henry and Amelia's only daughter, the Montague family's treasure. Their wedding day had shut down half the city—five hundred tables of guests, every notable in Evergreen City in attendance.
Now she was leaving in the dead of night, unable to wait.
She couldn't even wait until morning.
Samuel couldn't accept it. In desperation, he yanked open the car door, forcing the driver to slam on the brakes.
In the darkness, Samuel stared at Taylor through the car window, taking in her ice-cold expression as he asked the question burning in his heart: "Taylor, did you ever love me?"
For a moment—perhaps it was his imagination—Taylor's eyes seemed to glisten.
But her response was direct: "No. Samuel, I never loved you."
Samuel staggered back a step, his handsome face etched with pain, as if he couldn't bear the blow.
The black sedan slowly pulled away.
Samuel stood in the darkness, watching Taylor leave. One of the remaining servants approached cautiously. "Mr. Collins, Mrs. Collins took all the Montague family staff with her. Should I have your secretary arrange for new help?"
Samuel's head was still bleeding, but he couldn't focus on that now.
He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it with shaking hands, and took agitated drags. Deep down, he knew his relationship and marriage with Taylor had reached its end, but he refused to acknowledge or accept it.
He muttered to the servant, "Wait until Taylor comes back to arrange anything. Taylor and I aren't getting divorced."
The servant didn't believe him but didn't argue.
Samuel had taken a blow to the head—his confused thinking and delusions were probably normal.
Just then, a car engine sounded in the courtyard.
Samuel's heart leaped with joy. He thought Taylor had returned, knew she still had feelings for him after seven years of marriage—she couldn't just throw it all away. What she'd said earlier was just spoken in anger.
Samuel rushed to greet her eagerly.
But as the car approached, he realized it belonged to the doctor he'd called, not Taylor returning.
In the moonlight, Samuel's handsome features showed indescribable disappointment—more heartbroken than when his mother had died.
The doctor immediately sensed something was wrong upon entering the house.
With Taylor's belongings gone, the home felt hollow and empty. But the doctor was smart enough not to ask questions—he simply bandaged Samuel up, took his fee, and left quickly.
Though this particular doctor was quite the gossip, and he couldn't wait to share with his wife when he got home: "Samuel from SamZen Tech has separated from his wife."
After the doctor left, Samuel didn't return to the bedroom. He refused to see the empty master suite, refused to accept the reality of their separation.
He stayed in his study handling business, the windows open to let in the night breeze that felt unspeakably lonely and cold.
At dawn, he finally returned to the master bedroom to freshen up and change clothes.
At nine sharp, he sat in SamZen Tech's conference room, energetically conducting the board meeting. He believed that if he succeeded in business, Taylor would respect him more and wouldn't want a divorce.
He wasn't inferior to that Julian.
After the meeting ended, Samuel returned to his executive office.
His secretary Quentin brought him coffee with a smile: "Mr. Collins, there's a lawyer here to see you. Says Mrs. Collins sent him. Should I show him in now?"
The meeting had gone well and Samuel had been in good spirits, but Quentin's words sent his mood crashing.
He looked at Quentin, his voice barely audible, "Where is he?"
Quentin replied, "In the reception room. He's been waiting about an hour."
Samuel leaned back in his leather chair, covering his face with his arm to block out the light.
After a long moment, he said quietly, "Send him in."
Quentin finally caught on—Samuel was being divorced!
About five minutes later, lawyer Patrick entered with the divorce papers. Samuel remained slumped in his leather office chair, not moving an inch.
Quentin said gently, "Mr. Collins, he's here."
Samuel lowered his arm, his eyes studying Patrick—a man around fifty with a very composed demeanor.
Patrick wasted no time, sitting on the sofa and pulling a document from his briefcase. "Mr. Collins, this is an agreement my client Ms. Montague asked me to bring for your review. If you have no objections after reading it, you can sign the divorce papers. I'll handle the proceedings, and within a week you'll both be free from your marriage—legally single again."
Samuel asked quietly, "How much is she paying you?"
Patrick was taken aback.
Samuel continued, "I'll pay you double. Just pretend you never came here. Go back and tell Taylor I won't divorce her. She should give up on that idea right now."
Patrick looked clearly uncomfortable. "Mr. Collins, forced relationships rarely have happy endings."
"How do you know it won't have a happy ending? Do you know our history? Do you know our feelings? You're sentencing me to death based on one conversation?"
Patrick thought Samuel had lost his mind.
He wanted to shake sense into him—it wasn't Patrick sentencing him to death, it was his wife Taylor. A woman with her looks, family background, and figure—who would want to compete with some questionable woman for a husband?
Reluctantly, Patrick pulled out a USB drive.
He said to Samuel, "This is Ms. Montague's final act of kindness! Mr. Collins, you wouldn't want your reputation destroyed over a divorce, would you? From what I can see, this is more than fair. Ms. Montague isn't asking for any of your assets in the agreement—no financial disputes. That's remarkably generous. Any other woman in this situation would bankrupt you or at least cost you a fortune."
Samuel's eyes reddened.
He said coldly, "If she wants a divorce, tell Taylor to come talk to me herself."
Patrick didn't get Samuel's change of heart and had to leave empty-handed. But from that day forward, Taylor filed for legal separation—meaning that even if Samuel refused to let go, under local law, they would be divorced after two years of separation.
Evening fell, dusk settling in.
Samuel received a call from Zenobia to visit Thalassa and discuss her treatment plan with the doctors. But when he arrived at the hospital room, Zenobia wasn't there.
He asked Thalassa.
Thalassa sat on her bed, holding a brand-new stuffed animal, her little face glowing with a gentle smile. "Mommy went to see Daddy off. Daddy came to visit me."
Samuel frowned. Thalassa's father?
Hadn't Zenobia said she'd completely cut ties with Thalassa's father, that the man never cared whether his daughter lived or died?
In the hospital's emergency stairwell, Zenobia stood with a man in his thirties. The man was decent-looking but wore plain clothes that had been washed until they were faded, a stark contrast to Zenobia's designer outfit.
Zenobia rolled her eyes impatiently. "Leo, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop coming to see me. But you just never listen, do you? Seriously, what good do you think it does for you to come see Thalassa? Can you pay her medical bills? Can you give her a decent life?
"You can barely scrape by on your own with that $8,000 a month salary. No money, no talk of love or marriage, okay? Sooner or later, we're getting divorced anyway. If you just get over yourself and agree to the divorce, I'll even give you two hundred grand so you can start over. After that, just forget about me and Thalassa for good, alright?"
Leo Marek trembled with rage.
He pointed at Zenobia. "When we were dating, you didn't talk like this! You said you'd build a good life with me! But you cheated while pregnant with Thalassa. Her illness is because of your reckless behavior. After she was born, you ignored her completely. Then when you found out your old flame had made it big, you dragged Thalassa to Evergreen City."
He added, "You don't love Thalassa. You're just using her as a tool. Give Thalassa back to me, and I'll agree to the divorce immediately."
Zenobia smirked, "Exactly, you loser! I don't care about Thalassa, and I definitely don't care about you. The only thing I care about is money—and men who have it. Like I've always said, broke people shouldn't even talk about love. What could you possibly offer Thalassa? Drag her down with you? Make her homeless too?"
She added, "Yeah, maybe I'm using her, but she's living the good life with me. What have I ever done to hurt her?"
Leo was furious. "You're insane!"
Zenobia's lips curved slightly. "Yes, I'm insane! I'll do anything for money."
Just then, the sound of dress shoes echoed in the corridor, getting closer and closer.