Chapter 70 Too Late
It was clear that Anthony was deeply upset about the divorce from Abigail.
Michelle was so frightened that tears streamed down her face, but at that moment, she didn’t dare utter a word.
Anthony looked terrifying, his expression gloomy, fists clenched tightly, veins bulging on his forehead and arms.
He turned away, gazing out the window, taking deep breaths in an attempt to rein in his anger.
But the more he contemplated the situation and Michelle’s words, the harder it became to calm down.
How could Abigail have happened to come back that day?
How could it be a mere coincidence that the police received a report?
Even more absurd was how Abigail knew he had been taken away by the police.
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With too many coincidences together, it couldn’t just be coincidences; they pointed to one undeniable truth–Abigail was the one who reported him.
Anthony thought, “To get a divorce, she even resorted to her
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legal skills. Is she that desperate to leave me?
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She even used such despicable tricks just to stake a claim on the property!”
The more he reflected on the humiliation of that day and the divorce, the more his anger swelled.
He resolved to confront Abigail and demand answers in person.
With his teeth clenched, Anthony grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door.
Michelle, finding her courage, called out to him, “Anthony, where are you going? Are you going to see her again?”
Anthony didn’t respond.
As he reached the door and remembered Michelle’s vulnerable state, he suppressed his fury and said, “I have things to handle. You should get back to work.”
With that, he strode out with a sullen face, leaving Michelle feeling relieved. She sank onto the sofa, trying to calm the fear.
Outside, everyone noticed Anthony’s stormy expression as he walked out. Moments earlier, there had been the sound of glass shattering from inside.
The onlookers gathered, whispering amongst themselves.
“What happened? Did Mr. Robinson and his lover have a fight?”
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“Could it be that his lover wants to be with him, but Mr. Robinson disagrees?”
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“It’s not that simple. Did you see how furious he was? I’ve never seen him like that before.”
“You guys don’t get it. If someone can provoke that kind of emotion in you, they must be important. His lover must be someone special.”
A few of them exchanged knowing glances, eager for the gossip.
Just then, Michelle, having composed herself, walked out.
Everyone quickly scattered, but they still glanced at her from the corners of their eyes, noticing that Michelle’s eyes were red, suggesting she had just been crying.
Michelle feigned nonchalance and left with her head held high.
Once she was gone, everyone reconvened.
“Did she actually cry? This is getting complicated!”
“Is it possible that Mr. Robinson is still hung up on his wife and doesn’t want the divorce?”
“No way. They are getting a divorce.”
“Why impossible? Someone like Mr. Robinson cares a lot about his reputation and image.”
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“How about a bet? I bet his lover will definitely win!”
“I bet Mrs. Robinson will win.”
The betting sparked excitement in the office, creating a lively. atmosphere.
After getting into his car, Anthony attempted to call Abigail, but as expected, there was no answer.
He tried Amy next, but there was still no response.
Frustrated, he drove directly to Amy’s bar.
As soon as he stepped inside, he grabbed a bartender by the collar, his voice low and threatening. “Where’s Amy?”
The bartender, visibly shaken, stammered, “Ms. Rowe said she had something to do today and wouldn’t be around.”
Anthony gritted his teeth. “Call her now.”
He believed that she would answer the work call.
The bartender hesitated. Sensing Anthony’s hostile demeanor, he eventually dialed Amy’s number.
She answered promptly, “Hello, what’s up?”
Before the bartender could explain, Anthony seized the phone.
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“Where is Abigail?” he demanded, his expres grip on the phone tight.
Recognizing his voice, Amy got worked up. “Anthony? Are you out of your mind? Did you come to my bar to cause trouble? If you keep this up, I’ll call the police!”
“I’m not in the mood for that. Just tell me where Abigail lives now,” he pressed.
Amy scoffed, “How could I know? You’re divorced and still trying to hold onto her? Come on, it’s too late. Save your late–found affection–it’s disgusting.”
Anthony had never liked Amy, primarily due to her sharp tongue.
“As Abigail’s friend, are you that eager to see her get divorced and become damaged goods?” he retorted.
Amy’s anger flared up.
She had originally placed her phone on the table and was happily getting her nails done at the salon, preparing for the celebration in the evening.
But upon hearing his words, she ignored her half–dried nail polish, stood up, grabbed her phone, and shouted, “What do you mean by ‘damaged goods“? Do you think Abigail is some object to be discarded? You’re so cheeky and have no self–awareness! She’s smart to have left you. As her friend, I surely stand by her. Do you expect me to support a jerk like you who cheated on
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her?”
“You…” Anthony gritted his teeth, his grip on the phone. tightening.
Before he could respond, Amy continued, “Just a friendly
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reminder why don’t you get yourself checked at a hospital? You might want to be careful about getting an STD!”
With that, she hung up, a satisfied smile on her face as she returned to her manicure, feeling much better after the exchange.
In sharp contrast, Anthony was seething with rage.
With nowhere to channel his frustration, he hurled the phone to the floor, shattering it into pieces.
The bartender could only watch helplessly as his phone was destroyed, feeling heartbroken.
As Anthony ground his teeth, veins bulging with anger, he turned to leave, only to be stopped by the bartender.
