Free Web NovelChapter 6: He Signed
Editor: Henyee Translations
"So? Are you going to tell him to divorce me?" Leila asked, striking Sarah right where it hurt.
For the past two weeks, Sarah had been dropping hints about this, yet Sean had never once expressed any intention of ending his marriage. He was nice to her—even nicer than before—which made her feel like the other woman.
But as the saying goes, the one who isn’t loved is the real mistress. So if anyone had come between them, it was Leila.
Back in college, everyone knew Sean loved Sarah deeply. But she had never imagined that after one argument over her decision to study abroad, Sean would actually marry some nobody he’d picked up off the street. That was a total insult to Sarah.
If she hadn’t seen Leila with her own eyes at the hospital that day—or been introduced—she would never have believed Sean really had a wife. How could Sean marry anyone but her?
But after constant testing and questioning, Sarah concluded that Sean still loved her—even more deeply than before. Sean bought anything she desired, no matter the cost. The moment she felt unwell, he dropped everything and rushed to her side. He had even learned to make brown sugar water for her and cooked noodles in the kitchen!
His money belonged to Sarah, and so did his love. Leila had nothing except the title of Mrs. Sinclair—a title almost no one outside the family even knew about. But Sarah had decided she was going to take that title back as well.
Sarah took a deep breath and smiled. "He will divorce you."
"Thanks for that," Leila replied. She couldn’t wait for Sean to sign the divorce papers. She couldn’t endure another second under the same roof watching the two of them play at being a loving couple.
Sarah clearly hadn’t expected that response. She froze. At that moment, Sean emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of brown sugar water. The moment his eyes met Leila’s cool, searching gaze, his heart skipped a beat. "Honey, you’re awake..."
A flash of jealousy crossed Sarah’s eyes when she heard "Honey."
"Sarah wasn’t feeling well, and she didn’t want to go to the hospital, so I brought her here." Sean was so busy explaining himself that he didn’t even notice he was still holding the bowl.
Leila noticed his fingers were almost turning red from the heat. This man, cooking for the first time, wouldn’t know to use gloves.
Whatever. Let it burn. He deserved it, Leila thought.
Yet the next moment, Sean walked straight over and thrust the bowl into her hands. "I still need to finish the noodles. Bring this to Sarah for me."
Before she could react, the scorching-hot bowl was pressed into her palms. The heat bit into her skin instantly, and Leila almost dropped it.
Sarah, however, smirked from the sofa. "Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair."
Leila was just about to pass the bowl to Sarah when suddenly, a scream rang out—and the brown sugar water splattered, landing all over Sarah’s snowy-white arm. Large blisters quickly formed on her skin.
Sean rushed out, caught sight of it, and turned to Leila, snapping angrily, "What happened!"
Leila had the same question and was about to speak when Sarah said, "It’s not Leila’s fault. My hands slipped. Sean, please don’t blame her."
Tears filled Sarah’s eyes—she was genuinely in pain. Sean’s heart broke at the sight, and he snapped at Leila, "Why did you pass the bowl to her? You could have just set it down on the table."
"Didn’t you pass it to me, too?"
"Aren’t you aware of how important it is to keep Sarah safe? She can’t miss her project." Sean glared at Leila coldly. "You’d better pray she’s fine and that her work won’t be affected because of this."
With that, he bent down, scooped Sarah into his arms, and carried her to the hospital.
Leila looked at the scattered bowl on the floor and the sticky brown sugar water. She noticed her own fingers were burned too. But she swallowed her explanation and said nothing.
Sean firmly believed that Leila had deliberately spilled the brown sugar water on Sarah, so he decided to bring Sarah home from the hospital instead and moved into the guest room. It was expected that Leila should look after the injured woman.
Leila knew there was no point explaining herself to any of the Sinclairs. So she didn’t bother to argue back. Instead, she said she needed to leave for work, since it was already eight in the morning.
Although there wasn’t much at the research institute that required her presence these days, she still followed her usual routine to avoid raising suspicion.
Sean walked into the living room and stopped her. "Call in sick. You don’t have a worthwhile position at that company anyway—why not just quit and be a proper housewife?"
A wife who received a $417 monthly allowance?
"Not happening," Leila said.
"What?" Sean snapped.
Sarah could hear the loud argument from the guest room and immediately came out, saying, "Sean, please don’t fight because of me. It was my fault—I slipped."
Sean dropped the subject for the moment. But he insisted that Leila take time off. "You don’t have to quit yet, but you need to take a few days off. At least until Sarah’s hand heals. You injured her, so you should take responsibility."
Leila frowned and retorted, "I already told you to leave me out of this. She was holding it just fine when I handed it over. You should ask Sarah, not me—she’s the one who spilled the drink."
Sean snapped back, "Are you saying Sarah deliberately poured boiling brown sugar water on herself? She’s working on a major research project right now. Her career means everything to her. She’s not the kind of person who plays mind games."
Leila was so angry she almost laughed. An important research project? Sarah was nothing more than a figurehead on the Self-Developed Chip project. She didn’t even have access to the core data.
No mind games?
A few tears from that woman, and Sean couldn’t see through the surface. Leila suddenly wondered what had made her so blind as to have been married to him for so many years.
Without another word, she turned and headed for the door. But Sean followed immediately and grabbed her wrist. "I said take time off. Or quit."
Leila couldn’t tell whether Sean wanted her to take time off to look after Sarah, or whether he genuinely expected her to quit her job and become a full-time housewife.
Probably both.
"And I said, not happening."
"If you think leaving that job would be a loss, I’ll compensate you."
"Compensate me?" Leila wondered how he would compensate her for those four years of love.
"That’s right. Quit your job, stay home, and I’ll give you whatever you want."
Sean felt that he had completely lost control of Leila, who had somehow turned into a white rose covered in thorns. And he didn’t like that feeling. It had happened with Sarah before, and now with Leila.
"I want this house," Leila said suddenly, lifting her chin slightly. "Give me this house—sign the transfer agreement—and I’ll resign from The Cole Group."
Leila had just come up with an idea of how to get Sean to sign the divorce papers. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
The apartment wasn’t particularly important to Sean. It was only a modest three-bedroom unit, and now that Sarah no longer needed his financial support for research, he had already been considering upgrading to a larger place.
So he agreed almost immediately.
"Fine. I’ll have someone draw up the transfer agreement."
"I want to review it myself once it’s ready," Leila said, pulling her hand free from his grip. She rubbed the spot where he’d held her.
Sean nodded. "Alright." Without another thought, he pulled out his phone and called his assistant to prepare the paperwork.
Leila didn’t mention going to work again. Instead, she went with Sean to his company. Sean told her to wait in the car.
A short while later, the assistant arrived with the transfer agreement. Leila read it carefully from beginning to end, then looked up. "I want to watch him sign it in person. I’m not going upstairs—have him come down."
The assistant nodded.
"Wait. Bring a stapler too. I don’t want the pages to get loose."
The assistant nodded again.
As soon as the assistant left and she was alone in the car, Leila pulled the final signature page of the divorce papers from her bag and swapped it with the signature page from the transfer agreement.
A few minutes later, Sean arrived in the garage. He had a stapler in one hand, and a gold fountain pen peeked out from his suit pocket. That had been the very first gift she ever gave him. He had been using it for over four years.
For a moment, she stared at it in silence.
"Here’s the stapler," Sean said as he opened the car door and got in. The lighting in the garage was dim. Leila lowered her eyes, carefully stapled the documents together, flipped to the signature page, and handed them over.
The agreement had been drafted by his assistant and reviewed beforehand. Sean didn’t spare it a second glance. He simply signed and wrote the date.
Done.
Four years ago, Sean had used the pen she gave him to sign their marriage certificate. And now, he used that same pen to sign their divorce papers. The story had an opening and an end.
The agreement came into effect from that moment on. One month from now, they would no longer be husband and wife.
Leila held the documents in her hands but didn’t cry. She wouldn’t shed another tear for Sean or this marriage anymore.
Sean didn’t notice the relief in her eyes under the dim garage light. He just reminded her, "I’ve kept my promise. I’ll have my assistant take you to The Cole Group so you can resign immediately."
Leila nodded. "Okay."
But she didn’t actually work at The Cole Group. All she had to do was make an appearance.
She remembered that the HR manager had registered her facial recognition access, but that was about it.
Sean’s Bentley, worth over half a million dollars, wasn’t a car she rode in often. This was the first time he had specifically sent his assistant to drive her somewhere.
The maple leaves were ablaze with autumn color along the roadside. A gust of wind swept through, rustling the branches and sending crimson leaves drifting onto the ground.
Leila turned her head toward the window, her vision blurring slightly, while the divorce papers rested on her lap.
The assistant glanced at her several times through the rearview mirror. Something felt different about her today. She seemed too calm—and she kept trying to take off the ring on her finger, as if trying to remove it.
"Mrs. Sinclair, we’re here."
"Okay." Leila slipped the papers back into her bag and said, "Thanks. You can leave now." ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
"Okay, Mrs. Sinclair. Please remember to let Mr. Sinclair know once you’re done."
"I will."
Leila passed through the access gate and walked into Cole Plaza with the assistant’s gaze following her all the way.
Rhea had arranged the position for her at The Cole Group, and it had been Renee Scott, the Director of HR, who had personally handled her onboarding. So she needed to turn to Renee for the "resignation" too.
Before she could even ask the receptionist for directions, she spotted Renee showing up with a coffee in hand.
Renee saw her too. She was quite surprised but smiled warmly. "Leila! Here you are!"
"Hey, Renee."
"Come on, let’s talk in my office."
Leila was the employee personally recommended by President Cole’s second aunt. No one at the company would dare treat her casually.
As they walked away, Leila suddenly felt someone’s gaze on her. She looked up and saw, in the distance, a tall, lean figure—visible only in profile.
Something about that figure felt strangely familiar. Yet she couldn’t remember where she might have seen him before.
