Good Novel
Chapter 8
Chapter 8
“Go say sorry to Quincey! She’s hurt badly because of you. It’s only fair you apologize!” Thiago snapped, glaring at Whitney with anger flashing in his eyes. Looking at Whitney with her ice–cold stare, he scoffed. “Quincey’s only asking for an apology. She’s way more generous than you could ever bel
Whitney couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Generous like Quincey? Yeah, right. She’s got some nerve hanging around a married guy and now she wants an apology!”
“Fine, I’ll apologize to Quincey.” Whitney snapped back, her voice dripping with frost. If Quincey was dying for an apology, Whitney would deliver–just not yet.
“Let’s get this divorce wrapped up first, then I’ll say I’m sorry, Whitney fired off before striding into the courthouse.
Thiago stood rooted to the spot behind her. He had never liked Whitney as his wife. But now, it seemed like she was the one who dumped him.
To get rid of him, she was even willing to apologize to Quincey. “Well, that’s perfect. She’s making things easier for me. Thiago commented inwardly. He huffed and followed Whitney in.
Splitting up was way easier than getting married. They signed some papers, handed them over, and in no time, they cach received their divorce certificates.
After exiting the courthouse, Whitney stayed true to her word and headed straight to the hospital. With Thiago looking on, Whitney offered up her “heartfelt sorry to Quincey chilling in the hospital room.
After a good ten minutes of that, Whitney swung around to Thiago, eyebrow cocked, and tossed out, “Happy now, Mr. Mackenzie!”
Before Thiago could respond, Quincey spoke up. “It’s all in the past. I don’t care about it anymore.”
“Well, then I’m out,” Whitney said, and bounced.
Thiago was confused as he watched her leave carefree. But then it clicked for him. You can’t say sorry for stuff you didn’t even do. Classic Whitney, always playing dirty!
As Whitney exited the ward, she halted, her gaze shifting toward the end of the corridor where a figure swiftly passed. by.
Everything was just as she had expected.
A sly grin slipped onto her face. ‘Let them buzz about it all they want. The bigger they are, the harder they fall:
Shortly after, Whitney’s phone suddenly received several message notifications. Unlocking it, she saw a message on Twitter. The text read: [All set. When do we take action?]
Whitney replied: [I’ll let you know.]
“Girl, you’re all over the internet apologizing to Quincey! Everyone’s slamming you, saying you nearly took her out!” a friend blurted out.
Another asked, “Do you want me to contact some familiar media outlets to help suppress this matter?”
That evening, Whitney was throwing back drinks with her squad. They gabbed about the drama.
Chapter M Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.
Somebody had spilled a clip and some snaps online. There was Whitney, stone–faced and saying sorry, while Quincey looked all weak and thankful on the bed.
From the looks of it, Quincey had clearly suffered a lot.
Whitney took the phone from her friend and glanced at the photo. She then smirked and thought, ‘Great!‘
She returned the phone to her friend before casually raising her glass. “Forget about it. Let’s drink!”
Everyone was speechless.
The night rolled on and Whitney’s crew crushed five bottles of red, two of whiskey, and a ton of beers. Near midnight, they stumbled out of the bar, buzzed but feeling like the night was still young.
Whitney held her liquor like a champ. Far from sloshed, the booze had her wired and ready for what was next.