His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker!, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker!.
The next day, Whitney contacted a realtor early to bring buyers to see the house.
The elderly couple exchanged glances, looking serious: "Mrs. Sterling, you're still in recovery. Why are you rushing to sell such a nice house? Is there some problem?"
"Where will you live after selling?"
"I want to go back to my hometown to recover." Whitney's voice was calm: "The property rights are clear with no disputes. If you're serious about buying, I'll take another fifty thousand off, but you need to pay in full."
"Deal!" The couple agreed readily and signed the contract.
Whitney went with them to the housing authority to handle the transfer, and commissioned the realtor to buy a move-in ready house in Bhutan.
After handling all that, she canceled her bank accounts, picked up her new passport at the Boston Passport Agency, and booked a flight out of Boston for tomorrow.
When evening came, she dragged her exhausted body home.
She was shocked to see red heels that weren't hers by the door, plus a man's white shirt and woman's black bra scattered on the floor!
Whitney's head exploded with a bang.
She stumbled upstairs to find two bodies tangled together in the open master bedroom, condoms scattered all over the floor.
Hearing the noise, Vera, who was half-kneeling, flashed panic on her face and pushed away the man behind her: "Harrison, stop fooling around—Whitney's home!"
"We shouldn't be doing this in front of her..."
"Hmph, this is MY house. I can do whatever I want. What right does some wife in name only have to interfere?"
Harrison's hands gripped the woman's waist tightly as he launched another round of attack.
Whitney covered her mouth tightly, rushed into the downstairs bathroom and knelt by the toilet, vomiting violently until even bile came out.
She leaned against the wall weakly, gasping for air, letting tears fall freely.
Harrison was so cruel.
It was one thing to parade around with Vera in public.
Today he brought her home to do it in her room—such humiliation!
Her nails dug deep into her palms, forcing herself to stop crying bit by bit.
She took the water Nanny Lisa handed her, saying weakly: "Clean up the guest room on the first floor. Camden and I will sleep there tonight."
"And move the aloe plant my mother left from the master bedroom downstairs. It likes fresh air and can't stand dirty things."
"Yes, ma'am." Lisa hesitated: "The master said... said Ms. Winters wants you to make the beef stew she likes, and to bring it up right away."
"If you don't comply, he says he'll... never come home again."
Whitney's eyes were ice cold: "Good—if he doesn't come home, I'll finally have some peace!"
She was sleeping soundly in the guest room wrapped in blankets.
The covers were suddenly ripped off, and Harrison's roar filled the air: "Are you DEAF? I told you to make soup for Vera—didn't you hear?"
"Why should a woman still in recovery make soup for her?" Whitney shot back: "Because you brought her home today to disgust me, or because you wished I'd die in childbirth to make room for her, HUH?"
Harrison stared at her in shock, speechless for several seconds: "You've got some nerve, actually talking back to me?"
"I'm counting to three. If you're not going, I'll..."
Whitney endured the pain from her abdominal incision, grabbed a water glass and threw it at him: "GET OUT! This house was a gift from your mother to me—you have no right to yell at me here!"
The elderly couple exchanged glances, looking serious: "Mrs. Sterling, you're still in recovery. Why are you rushing to sell such a nice house? Is there some problem?"
"Where will you live after selling?"
"I want to go back to my hometown to recover." Whitney's voice was calm: "The property rights are clear with no disputes. If you're serious about buying, I'll take another fifty thousand off, but you need to pay in full."
"Deal!" The couple agreed readily and signed the contract.
Whitney went with them to the housing authority to handle the transfer, and commissioned the realtor to buy a move-in ready house in Bhutan.
After handling all that, she canceled her bank accounts, picked up her new passport at the Boston Passport Agency, and booked a flight out of Boston for tomorrow.
When evening came, she dragged her exhausted body home.
She was shocked to see red heels that weren't hers by the door, plus a man's white shirt and woman's black bra scattered on the floor!
Whitney's head exploded with a bang.
She stumbled upstairs to find two bodies tangled together in the open master bedroom, condoms scattered all over the floor.
Hearing the noise, Vera, who was half-kneeling, flashed panic on her face and pushed away the man behind her: "Harrison, stop fooling around—Whitney's home!"
"We shouldn't be doing this in front of her..."
"Hmph, this is MY house. I can do whatever I want. What right does some wife in name only have to interfere?"
Harrison's hands gripped the woman's waist tightly as he launched another round of attack.
Whitney covered her mouth tightly, rushed into the downstairs bathroom and knelt by the toilet, vomiting violently until even bile came out.
She leaned against the wall weakly, gasping for air, letting tears fall freely.
Harrison was so cruel.
It was one thing to parade around with Vera in public.
Today he brought her home to do it in her room—such humiliation!
Her nails dug deep into her palms, forcing herself to stop crying bit by bit.
She took the water Nanny Lisa handed her, saying weakly: "Clean up the guest room on the first floor. Camden and I will sleep there tonight."
"And move the aloe plant my mother left from the master bedroom downstairs. It likes fresh air and can't stand dirty things."
"Yes, ma'am." Lisa hesitated: "The master said... said Ms. Winters wants you to make the beef stew she likes, and to bring it up right away."
"If you don't comply, he says he'll... never come home again."
Whitney's eyes were ice cold: "Good—if he doesn't come home, I'll finally have some peace!"
She was sleeping soundly in the guest room wrapped in blankets.
The covers were suddenly ripped off, and Harrison's roar filled the air: "Are you DEAF? I told you to make soup for Vera—didn't you hear?"
"Why should a woman still in recovery make soup for her?" Whitney shot back: "Because you brought her home today to disgust me, or because you wished I'd die in childbirth to make room for her, HUH?"
Harrison stared at her in shock, speechless for several seconds: "You've got some nerve, actually talking back to me?"
"I'm counting to three. If you're not going, I'll..."
Whitney endured the pain from her abdominal incision, grabbed a water glass and threw it at him: "GET OUT! This house was a gift from your mother to me—you have no right to yell at me here!"
End of His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! book page.