Amelia actually laughed through her tears. "Don't worry, Sherry. I've got another plan. I'll definitely get you that money."
I thought she'd come up with some brilliant schemes, but I was wrong.
The next morning, she marched straight to Denver's company—with divorce papers in hand.
On the way there, she smiled shyly.
"Sherry, if I divorce Denver and split the marital assets, I can get enough money to pay off your debt!"
I was about to tell her not to sacrifice her happiness for me when she suddenly squared her shoulders and stormed into the building. But the moment we stepped inside, the receptionist stopped her.
"Good morning, Ma'am. Do you have an appointment?"
I couldn't help sneering, "Wow. You need an appointment to see your own husband?"
Amelia blushed slightly and whispered to the receptionist, "I'm Mr. Fletcher's wife. Could you please tell him I need to see him?"
The receptionist's expression turned icy and disdainful. "Madam, if you're going to pretend, at least try harder. Mr. Fletcher is currently dining with his wife in the lounge. If you don't leave, I'll have to call security."
Amelia's face went completely pale.