Chapter 32 Are You Protecting That Man So Much?
Sloane's POV
Isabelle was startled by the fierceness in his eyes and instinctively took a step back, though her mouth remained defiant. "Jared, you can't let this bitch fool you! It was her..."
"I know my wife better than you do." Jared coldly cut her off, his tone laced with extreme impatience.
Tears welled up in Keira's eyes again. She tugged at Isabelle's sleeve, her voice timid. "Jared, don't be mad at Mom, and don't blame Sloane. It's all my fault..."
"Enough." Jared's patience ran out completely. He pulled out his phone and called security. "Escort them out."
Soon, two uniformed security guards walked in.
Isabelle's face turned red and white, but in the end, Christian half-persuaded, half-dragged her away.
Keira looked back from her wheelchair and gave me a meaningful look.
The hospital room door closed again.
Jared sat down in the chair beside my bed. The room was left with only the faint smell of tobacco on him and the mess all over the floor.
He looked at me, seeming to want to say something, hesitating several times.
After a long while, he finally spoke in an almost strained voice, "I'm sorry."
I closed my eyes without even lifting my eyelids.
Sorry for what? Sorry for doubting me? Or sorry for abandoning me again and again for Keira's sake?
His apology was weightless and meaningless.
Seeing no response from me, he added, "Just now... that was my fault. I shouldn't have doubted you."
I remained silent. The greatest sorrow is a dead heart—that's probably what I was like now. I didn't even have the energy to argue anymore.
My silence left him at a loss. He stood up and paced the room restlessly for a couple of steps, finally stopping by my bed. He leaned down, his voice softening slightly. "Get some rest. I'll get someone to clean this up and buy you something to eat."
I finally reacted, squeezing out just one word from my throat. "Tired."
He thought I was responding to him. His movement paused, and he looked at me deeply, his eyes filled with complex emotions I couldn't understand.
In the end, he just tucked the blanket around me, turned around, and left the room quietly.
The moment the door closed, I opened my eyes. They were clear and cold.
I reached for my phone and dialed Mr. Smith directly.
"Mr. Smith, is the agreement ready?"
"Mrs. Montclair, it's been drafted according to your requirements."
"Bring it over now." My tone was calm and firm. "I'm at Central Hospital VIP ward, room 302."
After hanging up, I lay quietly in bed, feeling the faint but tenacious signs of life deep in my abdomen.
This was my child, mine alone.
I would never let him be born into such a toxic environment, much less let him become a victim of my failed marriage.
I had to leave, and I had to leave now.
In less than half an hour, Mr. Smith arrived.
He handed me a document. I took it with my left hand and struggled to flip to the last page.
In the property division section, it clearly stated: The wife voluntarily waives all property and leaves with nothing.
I pulled out a pen and carefully wrote my name in the signature section.
After signing my name, I felt like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted. My whole body relaxed.
When Jared came back, he was carrying chicken broth and plain crackers.
When he saw me sitting on the bed and the conspicuous document in my hand, his expression froze instantly.
"What's this?" He walked over, his voice tight.
I handed him the signed papers, looking at him calmly. "Divorce papers. I already signed them. Look it over, and if everything's good, just sign it."
He didn't take it, just stared at the document as if he wanted to burn two holes through it.
The air in the room dropped to freezing point inch by inch.
"Sloane, I told you, stop making a scene." He forced the words through his teeth, the veins at his temples throbbing.
"I'm not making a scene." I looked at him, repeating clearly word by word, "Jared, let's get divorced. I don't want anything. That way you can be with Keira without any burden. Both families will be happy. Isn't that good?"
My words hit him like a punch to the gut.
His eyes turned red as he suddenly reached out and snatched the agreement from my hand, tearing it to shreds right in front of me!
White paper scraps fell like snowflakes from the air, landing on the mess on the floor and on my dead heart.
"I don't agree!" he roared, his hands braced on either side of me, trapping me firmly between the bed and himself. His eyes burned with crazy jealousy. "Is it for that man? Are you so eager to dump me and go find him?"
These words again.
I was truly tired. Exhaustion flooded from every limb, leaving me without even the energy to explain one more time. I turned my head away, avoiding his burning gaze, my voice numb. "There's no one else, Jared. There never was."
My denial seemed to mean something else to him.
He suddenly laughed coldly, his fingers tightening slightly on my chin, forcing me to look at him. His tone was certain and cruel. "Right, of course you won't admit it. He protects you so well, even lets you get revenge on Keira without getting your hands dirty. Of course you'd cover for him."
I was amused by his ridiculous logic.
So when I admitted things hysterically, he thought I was making a scene.
When I denied things calmly, he thought I was protecting someone else.
In his heart, he'd already convicted me.
A huge sense of powerlessness drowned me. I gave up any desire to communicate.
But the rage in Jared's eyes seemed ready to burn through me.
He stared at me hard for a long while, then finally punched the wall by the headboard viciously.
With a dull thud, some of the wall plaster shook loose.
He straightened up abruptly, as if unable to bear this suffocating confrontation any longer, turned and slammed the door as he left.
The loud sound of the door closing made my eardrums ring.
I looked at the paper scraps scattered on the floor. After a long while, I picked up my phone and dialed David's number.
The call was answered quickly, and David's gentle voice came through. "Sloane? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"
"David," I took a deep breath, my voice trembling slightly from nervousness, "I need to ask you for a favor."
"Go ahead."
I gripped my phone tightly, using all my strength to voice that crazy plan. "Help me forge a critical condition notice, saying I had massive bleeding after surgery and need emergency transfer abroad for treatment."
There was a long silence on the other end, so long I thought he'd hung up.
"Sloane, are you crazy?" David's voice finally came again, with unprecedented gravity and opposition. "This is too risky! Your current physical condition can't handle any stress, and... and the baby in your belly..."
He lowered his voice, full of concern. "You're gambling with your life and your child's life!"