Chapter 70 I Want a Divorce
When Seb heard Susan had gained 4.4 pounds, he smirked, clearly pleased.
"Thanks for your hard work, Kathy. Show the guests out," Seb said.
The doctor and nurse packed up and left, with Kathy following behind.
Seb walked over to the bed, glanced at Susan, then at her swollen belly, and reached out to touch it.
Annoyed, Susan swatted his hand away. "Don't touch me!"
"You think I want to touch you? I'm just checking on my kid," Seb shot back.
Susan's face turned red. She held back her anger and said calmly, "Seb, now that Cynthia's back, why won't you divorce me? I can still safely give birth to your child even if we divorce. If you don't, you can't marry Cynthia. Do you really want to see her suffer?"
Susan couldn't understand Seb's motives. Was it just his male pride, or did he want the child to be born within the marriage for legitimacy?
Seb stared at her, looking frustrated. "Susan, you're the most self-righteous woman I've ever met!"
"Seb, don't make it personal. I'm trying to discuss our issues seriously," Susan said.
"I decide our issues. You have no say!" Seb snapped, turning to leave.
Seeing him about to go, Susan knew she might not see him again for a while. She jumped out of bed barefoot and blocked his way.
"What do you want?" Seb frowned.
"I want a divorce!" Susan said after a brief pause.
Seb's forehead veins bulged. "Are you in such a hurry to divorce me so you can run to Henry?"
"That's my business," Susan replied, knowing he still suspected her and Henry.
Seb's anger flared. He grabbed her arm and said through gritted teeth, "You're carrying my child, and you're in a rush to find another man?"
"You call me unreasonable, but you're the one always jumping to conclusions," Susan said, eyes filled with resentment.
"I'm unreasonable? Let me tell you, while you're carrying my child, you're not getting close to any man!" Seb said, releasing her arm and storming off.
"Seb," Susan called after him, but he ignored her and walked out.
The car slowly wound down the mountain road.
Seb sat in the back, smoking with the window half down, but the air was still thick with smoke.
"Leon," Seb called out, looking despondent.
"Mr. Anderson?" Leon glanced back, surprised to see Seb like this.
After a moment, Seb seemed to be talking to himself. "Why are some women so ungrateful? No matter how you treat them, they feel nothing."
"Are you talking about Mrs. Anderson?" Leon asked.
Seb gave a self-deprecating smile. "Why am I telling you this? You're not married, never been in love. You have less experience than I do."
Leon chuckled, gripping the steering wheel. "Women are too much trouble. That's why I stay single."
"That's because you haven't met someone who sweeps you off your feet," Seb muttered, staring out at the dark mountains.
"Mr. Anderson, you seem a bit..." Leon hesitated.
"A bit what?" Seb asked, not really interested.
"A bit lovesick," Leon said with a grin.
Leon had been Seb's assistant for years, their professional bond extending to a close friendship, allowing them to speak freely in private. Leon's ability to switch between casual and formal made him invaluable to Seb.
"Are you mocking me?" Seb's stern face softened with a smile.
"I wouldn't dare," Leon quickly replied, waving his hand.
After some light-hearted banter, Seb felt a bit better.
Just then, a phone rang, breaking the moment.
Seb pulled out his phone, saw the caller ID, frowned slightly, but answered anyway.
"Hello?"
"Seb, you said you'd come see me tonight. It's almost ten, and you're still not here," a soft voice said on the other end.
Seb hesitated. "Cynthia, I'm sorry. Something came up. I can't make it tonight."
"What came up? Business or personal?" Cynthia asked, her voice tentative.
Seb's patience was wearing thin. "I have things to handle. I'll see you another day. I'm really busy right now. If you need anything, call my secretary Ellie. She'll help you."
Cynthia started to say something, but Seb cut her off with a curt "Goodbye" and hung up.
Cynthia, fuming, threw her phone onto the bed and flopped down beside it.
Staring at the ceiling, her eyes suddenly lit up with a plan.
The next day, Cynthia, dressed in a white dress, rang the doorbell at the Anderson family home in the central district.
The housekeeper, Laura, answered the door, not recognizing Cynthia. Laura hadn't been working for the Andersons when Cynthia was a regular visitor.
"Who are you here to see?"
"I'm here to see Carol. Tell her Cynthia is here," Cynthia said confidently.
"Please wait a moment," Laura said, about to close the door.
Cynthia quickly added, "Tell her I came from Maple Valley, from Seb's place."
"Okay," Laura said, heading off to inform Carol.
As expected, two minutes later, Cynthia was invited inside.
She wasn't taken to the living room but was seated at a stone table in the yard. At least they served her a cup of coffee.
Cynthia didn't mind the treatment. She wasn't here for hospitality; as long as Carol was willing to see her, she had a chance to achieve her goal.
Five minutes passed, and Carol still hadn't appeared. Cynthia wasn't surprised; knowing Carol well, she always made a grand entrance, regardless of who was waiting.
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