My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 15:

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Everyone turned, spotting a delivery man clad in his work uniform at the door.

Albin, looking confused, asked, “Did someone here order takeout?”noveldrama

A chorus of denials followed, each person brandishing their phone. “Not me.”

“Perhaps it’s a mistake?” someone mused aloud, tilting their head skeptically. “Or maybe someone’s trying to impress Mr. Norris with a gift? I’m curious to see what it is.”

With a quick scan of the document in his grip, the delivery man stated plainly, “This is a divorce agreement, sent by Ms. Carrie Campbell with instructions to deliver it straight to Mr. Kristopher Norris.”

The atmosphere in the room grew tense, as if an unseen force had slapped Kristopher and the others sharply across their faces.

The lively chatter of the private room abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable, uneasy hush.

Glances flickered between the occupants before they each quietly bowed their heads.

Amidst the tense silence, only Albin found the boldness to take action.

Taking the folder from the delivery guy, he returned to his seat and tossed it toward Kristopher. “Kristopher, what on earth did you do to upset her so much? She doesn’t seem to be kidding around,” he remarked, a trace of concern in his voice.

Albin was naturally curious about the contents of the folder, but he wouldn’t dare to peek inside, even if given countless opportunities.

The cover and the thick envelope alone, marked with the distinctive letterhead of a law firm, hinted at serious matters within.

Under the dim light, Kristopher’s face seemed to sink into shadows, darker than the night swirling outside.

Ignoring the document, he snatched up a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a glass, and gulped it down in one fluid motion.

His distraction evident, he carelessly set the bottle down, spilling most of its precious contents onto the sleek floor.

It was a vintage 1972 Macallan, valued at 1.5 million—a sum not even the affluent Albin could ignore without a wince of regret at the waste.

Yet, no one dared to move a muscle to pick up the fallen bottle.

After a moment, Kristopher set his empty glass down with a clink, his gaze narrowing on the unopened folder. “Is all this drama really just over a missed call?” he grumbled, his voice laced with disbelief and a tinge of frustration.

The room remained silent.

Not a single soul dared to answer, and even the sound of breathing seemed to soften, as if afraid to disturb the heavy air.

Lise straightened her back and gently took the glass away from Kristopher. “This is all on me,” she murmured, her voice tinged with guilt. “If not for my persistent heart…”

“Had it not been for my condition, my frail health, and those incessant fevers that concern you, you wouldn’t have missed her call.”

Her expressive eyes quickly brimmed with tears, casting her in a vulnerable light.

She placed a hand delicately over her heart, her apology sincere. “My longstanding ailment has brought you nothing but inconvenience. Ms. Campbell tried reaching you repeatedly this afternoon. Perhaps she had something urgent to discuss.”

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