Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Chapter 1657

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Or rather, if she had any spine at all, it felt like it was made of cheap plastic.

As this thought crossed her mind, she had her elbows propped up on the table before her, with palms pressed together and resting

against her forehead.

Fitch had no idea what she was doing until he noticed her shoulders trembling slightly and tears dripping onto the tabletop, one

after another.

That irksfeeling crept up on him again. He wasn't normally short-tempered, but around her, he found his patience wore thin.

Crying? What's there to cry about? There are plenty of people in the world with bigger problems than hers.

Fitch's heart was indeed cold. He pulled out a cigarette, wanting to light up, but then he remembered where he was and reluctantly

put it back down.

Zoey continued to cry, clenching her hands tightly and trying not to let her sobs escape.

She didn't know why she was crying; just being around him made it impossible to hold back.

In the past few days, she had been hit repeatedly, but she only felt the physical pain, which was bearable.

But with Fitch's presence, it was as though all her wounds were being torn open again, which magnified the pain a thousandfold.

Unbearable agony.

She couldn't recall much of what happened next as she just numbly followed behind him, watching how he signed various

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documents until, finally, she saw the blue sky outside.

He drove, and she sat in the passenger seat, quietly watching the road ahead.

The cuts on her fingers were festering, yet she felt almost nothing.

Fitch didn't immediately start the car but took a phone call, his brows knitted with a commanding air.

After hanging up, he rubbed his forehead, feeling desperately in need of a break.

But he had a meeting to attend at the company.

He drove to the office, and upon arrival, he didn't bother to check on Zoey, who remained seated in the passenger side.

Fitch headed to the top floor for the meeting, but during the meeting, his mind wasn't fully there, and he couldn't help glance

outside occasionally.

Ever since he took over the Haskins family business, he'd been a workaholic, never allowing anything to disturb his focus.

Today, however, when someone asked him the squestion twice, he felt irritable and stood up abruptly.

"Dismissed. Cut all this verbose fluff; | don't have tfor sugar-coated figures."

The speaker was shocked, but before he could react, Fitch had already left the boardroom.

Those left behind exchanged uneasy glances and reluctantly started revising their presentation.

Reports for the boss always needed a polish, or else no one could bear the responsibility for poor figures.

Fitch used to let things slide, but today he broke through the facade.

Back in his office, he loosened his tie with one hand, his frown deepening.

The assistant didn't dare disturb him.

After dealing with paperwork for a while and noticing it was getting dark outside, Fitch grabbed his coat and clocked out.

As he approached his car in the underground parking, a thought crossed his mind.

Zoey couldn't possibly still be in the passenger seat, could she?

A strange feeling surged within him and, sure enough, when he opened the door, there she was, still curled up asleep, bleeding

from her wounds.

A flare of anger ignited in Fitch, and he shook her awake roughly.

"Are you sick or something?"

Zoey's collar was gripped tight, making it hard for her to breathe.

Squinting at the dark sky outside, she realized night had fallen.

Fitch let go of her collar, settled into the driver's seat, and hit the gas pedal.

He stopped the car at Zoey's current residence; her fingertips were trembling with pain.

"So, you're droppingoff. What about Mia?"

Mia would go crazy trying to get revenge, and now that Fitch had pulled Zoey out of jail, what would becof her?

Without a word, Fitch grabbed Zoey and headed upstairs.

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The property manager recognized Zoey and opened the door immediately.

After reaching her apartment, she keyed in the code.

Fitch had never been to her place before; it wasn't spacious, but enough for one person.

A bag of dog food still sat in the living room.

Zoey didn't understand why he followed her home. She took out a first aid kit and began disinfecting her hands. When it ctime

to wrap them in gauze, she struggled to do it properly.

Fitch stood by the window, smoking, not looking at her.

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Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

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