Chapter 2 Making Harry Angry

Catherine knew he had heard her, so she repeated it. "Let's get divorced." Harry turned on the shower, offering only one word: "Reason?" "I don't love you anymore. That counts as a reason, doesn't it?" Catherine stood up and picked up the bathrobe from the floor. She slipped it on. "You were the one who schemed to marry me in the first place, and now you're the one asking for a divorce." Harry let out a mocking laugh. "Catherine, what do you take me for? Take back those words, and I can pretend you didn't say anything." The water stopped, and Harry reached his hand toward her. "Bathrobe." In the past, preparing his clothes and such small tasks had always been Catherine's responsibility. She stepped back and said firmly, "I want a divorce." "Divorce? With what money? Don't forget that your mother's medical expenses are all being paid by the Zimmerman family." Harry dropped his hand and reached past Catherine to grab a bathrobe, draping it over himself. The belt hung loosely around his waist. His expression was lazy and mocking. "You think that little money you make at work can accomplish anything?" Harry pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and lit it. Through the smoke, she couldn't see his face clearly. "Just be a good Mrs. Zimmerman." Their first discussion about divorce ended badly. But Harry was right. Her earnings from her job weren't enough to cover her mother's expensive medical bills. The Quinn and Zimmerman families had been family friends for generations, but six months after she married Harry, her father died in a car accident. Her mother became comatose, and the monthly expenses were a substantial burden that her current job couldn't possibly cover. Misfortunes came one after another. She wanted to ask Harry for help, but she was told that Harry was watching fireworks with his girlfriend. That night, the evening sky over Neovara was brilliant and colorful, yet the majestic display felt like a knife through her heart. She sat helplessly in the hospital corridor. Her calls to him were repeatedly declined. No one knew that Catherine had cried until her eyes were swollen that night, and no one knew how the scar on her wrist came to be. Harry loved to hold her from behind, forcing her to cry out when passion overcame them. Once, he ran his fingers over the scar on her left wrist and asked how she got it. She told him it was from an accidental fall. After that, he never asked about it again. Catherine curled up in bed, listening to the sound of a car starting downstairs. She had made Harry angry. She tilted her head back and blinked several times, but tears still fell stubbornly. Her phone rang several times. It was a call from Harry's mother, Rachel Connor. "Why are you calling so late, Rachel? Is something wrong?" Catherine's tone became calm in an instant. She showed no trace of her earlier distress. Rachel said anxiously, "That little homewrecker is now brazenly showing up at our door, and you're still so calm. Don't you care if you lose Harry to that woman?" Catherine wanted to speak but didn't know what to say. Rachel continued to plead earnestly, "Cathy, how can you not fight for what's yours!" Catherine lowered her eyes with a bitter smile. Fighting would probably only make Harry despise her more. "I understand. I'll try." After placating Rachel, Catherine felt mentally and physically exhausted. If she had known two years ago that marrying Harry would lead to this outcome, she probably wouldn't have acted so impulsively from the start. She wouldn't have slept with Harry despite knowing it was wrong. Her current situation was perhaps her just punishment. Catherine had barely closed her eyes for two minutes when a shrill ring broke the silence. "Ms. Quinn, our proposal got rejected." The urgent voice of her assistant, Cecilia Keane, came through. Work mode kicked in as Catherine sat up. "What happened?" "The client thinks our proposal won't work and wants us to redo it." Cecilia's tone sounded somewhat irritated. They'd been working overtime on this proposal for two weeks, and they had designed it according to the client's requirements. If there were problems, they should have been mentioned from the beginning, not after the work was submitted. "Did they say what the specific issues were?" Catherine quickly changed clothes and grabbed her bag to catch a cab. Cecilia said, "That's just it. They didn't say anything specific. It's infuriating!" Catherine comforted Cecilia. "I'm coming over right now." On the way to the office, Catherine called the client's original contact person to ask about the proposal situation, only to be told, "Ms. Quinn, I'm sorry. Honestly, I loved your proposal, but unfortunately, the project has a new person in charge." Catherine now understood that it was the new manager who didn't like the proposal. This meant all their recent hard work had been wasted. Catherine got the new contact's phone number and called. "Hello, Ms. Stone, I'm the person in charge of the Bluebay project, Cath..." "I know. Whatever it is, let's discuss it tomorrow. I need to rest now." The woman's tone was cold as she interrupted Catherine. Then, she hung up. When she heard the dial tone from her phone, Catherine was stunned for a moment. Something about the voice seemed familiar to her. It was like she had heard it somewhere before.