Kicking over the coffee table in front of her irritably, he called out to her before she could open the door.
"Wait!"
She stopped in her tracks, looking at him in bewilderment.
He took a deep breath.
"Since we're divorcing, I'll give you this apartment, so others won't say I'm too stingy, Durrell Landon."
She brushed her fingertips through her hair and spoke with a laugh, "In this world, those who know we're married probably don't exceed the number of fingers on one hand, and those people are your friends. They certainly won't speak ill of you."
The air fell into a deathly silence again.
"Bang—"
The response she got was a heavy door slamming sound.
Along with his departure was the divorce agreement.
She touched her nose; now that Evelyn Windsor was returning, she sensibly suggested divorce so as not to block his way. Where else could he find such an understanding little pawn? She really didn't know why he was angry.
This night was destined to be a sleepless one.
...
Her phone vibrated again and again, but she didn't pick it up until the fifth ring.
A bit surprised, it was Julian Haworth's call.
Julian was one of the few people who knew that she and Durrell Landon were married.
She answered the call with a hint of impatience: "What is it?"
A voice of panic and helplessness came through: "Durrell had a car accident. There's severe bleeding, head injuries, and varying degrees of damage to his body. He needs immediate surgery; he's at Haworth North Hospital right now. You need to come to sign some papers."
Haworth North Hospital is part of the Haworth Family's business, and Julian Haworth is a young master there.
She couldn't tell whether Julian was joking with her; an hour ago he was in the apartment, and an hour later he's at the hospital?
She rushed to the hospital and saw Durrell Landon lying on the hospital bed, barely alive.
While signing, she held the pen's tip and asked with a complex emotion: "Will he die?"
The attending doctor: "We'll do our best to save him."
Durrell Landon was rushed into the operating room; the light outside the room was on, and the smell of disinfectant in the corridor was pungent, causing her to cough involuntarily.
A handkerchief suddenly appeared before her, and when she looked up, it was Charles Foote, another friend of Durrell Landon.
Unlike Durrell's enchanting allure that made one addicted, he was like a snow lotus on a snowy mountain, gentle and radiant.
She spoke: "Thank you."
He glanced at the glowing red light of the operating room and then his gaze fell back on Quiana Sutton, taking out the divorce agreement still stained with blood. He spoke calmly: "Can you tell me what's going on?"
Julian grabbed the divorce agreement from Charles Foote's hand and after reading it, he looked at Quiana in surprise: "Did you guys have a fight?"
She answered calmly: "No."
It was just a piece of paper; their contractual marriage ending was inevitable.
She just didn't expect him to have a car accident before it was officially over.
Julian didn't believe her, but at the moment he couldn't delve into what really happened.
Durrell Landon was an established actor, and the slightest incident could cause a huge uproar. Now with such a major accident, the news must be sealed.
He hesitated about whether to inform the Landon Family.
Charles Foote saw Julian's hesitation and spoke calmly: "Let's wait until Durrell wakes up and let him decide if he wants to notify them."
The connections with the Landon Family were quite complicated; it's best not to get involved unnecessarily.
Five hours later, the doors to the operating room finally opened.
Quiana Sutton stepped forward and asked, "Doctor, how is he?"
The attending doctor removed his mask: "He's out of immediate danger."
The doctor's words struck her ears, her nerves suddenly relaxed.
It was only at this moment she realized she had been tense all along.
"Thank you, doctor."
The doctor glanced at Quiana and continued:
"However, there's something I need to tell you: the patient has a shadow in his brain area, which may result in partial memory loss."
Quiana Sutton: "..."
"Of course, this isn't absolute; we'll know more once the patient wakes up."
She couldn't help but wonder, if Durrell Landon truly lost his memory, could she still divorce him?
She pinched the bridge of her nose in a headache; this accident really caught her off guard.
...
Haworth North Hospital was a Haworth Family enterprise, and with Durrell lying there, she wasn't worried at all.
She waved to them, "I have some matters to attend to, so I'll leave first."
Julian was beside him, visibly annoyed.
"Your husband is lying in the hospital unconscious, and you don't stay to accompany him?"
A faint arc formed on her lips, and she turned to look at Julian, speaking humorously: "Our divorce agreement is still in your hands. Since we're to divorce, naturally it's better to keep a distance."
If they were already divorced, today's signature wouldn't even be hers to sign.
Julian wanted to say something, but Charles Foote, who was beside him with his eyes closed, expressionless, and indifferent, stopped him.
"Let her go, you stay and take care of Durrell."
"What about you?"
Charles Foote, hands in his pockets, eyes cloudy and unclear: "Of course, I'll handle sealing the news."
He glanced out the window, the sun had already risen above the horizon; it was almost daybreak.
Quiana Sutton stayed up all night and arrived at the recording site the next day with dark circles.
Her agent had already arranged her schedule; today she needed to record the OST for the idol drama "Signal of Heartbeat."
Only so many accidents happened yesterday, catching her off guard; she was so tired now that she fumbled for a pack of cigarettes in her bag. Habitually, she stuffed it back but suddenly remembered that Durrell wasn't here to stop her, so she took it out again.
Durrell Landon despised the smell of smoke and would never allow her to smoke.
Now that they're divorcing, this rule should naturally be abandoned.
Grace Sutton arrived with a pile of materials and saw Quiana standing by the window smoking.
She narrowed her eyes, looking exasperated.
"If the paparazzi catch you, you'll add another scandal."
But admittedly, Quiana looked particularly captivating when smoking.
Her appearance was naturally radiant and grand, and her defiant expression while smoking nearly gave off an aura of unattainability.
Quiana had a nonchalant expression: "I have enough bad press, I don't care about another."
Grace felt a bit aggrieved:
"You may not care, but I do. I don't want you to ruin my career as an agent."
Every time colleagues mentioned Quiana, they would mock her.
Back when the company had artists debuting at the same time, she chose Quiana over Summer Dawn, and now Summer Dawn has a better reputation and higher status than Quiana. Yet she's still investing resources into supporting Quiana, who now has such a poor performance, causing Grace to almost become the representative of blind agents in the company.
Quiana originally debuted as a singer, with her first album selling nearly ten million copies.
Grace thought Quiana would continue to pursue music, but unexpectedly, Quiana decided to act as well, and Grace didn't stop her.
If she could develop in film, music, and acting simultaneously, she might become the top in the entertainment industry.
But Grace was mistaken; once Quiana started acting, she just turned into a whiny persona with a lot of anti-fans. If not for her decent singing, with some loyal fans, she might have been criticized out of the industry.
Grace earnest to persuade: "Quiana, why don't you just focus on singing? Cut down on acting, and I guarantee you'll reduce a lot of anti-fans."
Quiana held the cigarette, took a deep drag, the nicotine stimulating her nerves, waking her up significantly.
She shook her head with a smile.
"No."