Chapter 140 Harper Disappears
Harper just smiled. And it was a smile tinged with indescribable irony.
Suddenly, the door was kicked open.
Francis frowned and was about to ask who it was when an unidentified object flew towards him.
It was a black leather bag that heavily hit Francis.
Abigail, who was dressed in white and black, burst in aggressively and continuously pounded Francis with her hands.
Francis stood straight but offered no resistance.
Abigail, who was exhausted from hitting him, couldn't contain her anger. "I asked you to take care of Harper. Why did you let her into this danger?"
The thought of Harper losing her child made her heart ache inexpressibly.
She had bought so many things for the baby, which were now all seemingly useless.
She had planned to discuss with Harper about informing Dylan of the news six or seven months later. Now, with sorrow, she felt a slight sense of relief.
She was glad she hadn't said anything.
Otherwise, with Dylan's recent condition, he might not have been able to handle it.
She couldn't control Francis, so she sat by Harper's bed, held her, and cried out, "Harper, you've suffered a lot."
But Harper's tears had dried up. Her eyes were empty and cold as she calmly said, "Mom, I want a divorce."
Francis, who was standing tall, suddenly understood why Abigail had come.
He hadn't told Abigail for fear that Harper would make this request.
Abigail felt extreme heartache after seeing Harper so thin. "Harper, focus on recovery. When you're well, I'll help you."
"No," Francis coldly interjected.
He didn't speak, and Abigail's attention was solely on Harper, and she was oblivious to his presence.
Now, all she felt was rage, so she shouted, "Get out."
But Francis forcefully escorted Abigail out, didn’t give her a chance to speak, and instructed Victor, "Take my mom back home."
Abigail gritted her teeth. "Francis, you bastard. You see me as your mom, but you dare to drive me away."
"Mom, this is not your concern. I will not get a divorce with Harper."
With that, Francis closed and locked the door to keep Abigail outside.
Ignoring her continuous protests outside, he walked up to Harper.
"Is this your solution?"
Harper remained silent. Francis smirked coldly and said, "You thought my mom would make me change my mind?"
After a moment of thought, Harper asked seriously, "If your mom can't, what about your grandpa?"
In an instant, Francis' patience was shattered by her words.
Was she willing to risk Dylan's health just for a divorce?
His voice carried the authority of a superior as he said, "Harper, do you think you can see Dylan now?"
The commotion outside stopped. Abigail must have been forcibly taken away by Victor.
Harper replied calmly, "Unless I am dead, there will always be a way to see him, right?"
She hadn't expected the divorce to go smoothly and was prepared for a long battle.
Francis, who was expressionless, suddenly smiled, and his eyes were tinged with crimson. "Do you really think you can threaten me?"
Harper remained cold and indifferent and did not bother to show any extra emotions. "You should leave. I’m tired."
Her expression showed no willingness to argue, and she treated him as if he were a stranger.
This sense of alienation deeply hurt Francis.
The thought of divorce and her in another man's arms was unbearable.
Just the thought of it made him feel out of control, let alone accepting it.
He couldn't accept it, and he wouldn't.
As Harper prepared to sleep and gather strength to devise the next divorce strategy, Francis suddenly bent down, pulled her towards him, and kissed her fiercely and ruthlessly.
Harper did not attempt to resist and numbly allowed it to happen as if she were lifeless.
Francis couldn't pry open her clenched teeth. Meeting Harper's unwavering gaze, he froze in place.
When he released her, Harper spoke coldly, "It seems Mr. Getty still can't forget about my body. But if you agree to divorce, I can consider cooperating with you once as a divorce gift."
She casually turned the act of making love into a bargaining chip for divorce, which was a blatant humiliation.
Francis' handsome face visibly tensed, and his patience seemingly reached its limit.
"Harper."
Suppressing his anger, he asked slowly, word by word, "What do I need to do for you to forgive me?"
Harper was tired of repeating the word, divorce. She said, "You know."
Francis locked eyes with Harper and said firmly in his resolve, "Besides divorce."
"There's no way. I will never forgive you."
If he could disappear from her world, perhaps she would slowly forget him.
Forgetting was akin to forgiveness.
In an instant, Francis felt as if an invisible hand had gripped his heart, and every time he breathed, he felt a sharp pain in his throat.
After a pause, his expression turned cold as he said slowly, "Then you can just keep hating me."
Afraid of hearing more hurtful words from Harper, he swiftly left.
Francis believed that as long as he learned to hide from her, Harper would eventually abandon the idea of divorcing him.
But that night, something unexpected happened.
At two in the morning, while he was at the office and tried to use work to numb himself, a nurse from the hospital called.
"Mr. Getty, something's wrong. Mrs. Getty, she's gone."
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