Chapter 103: Chapter 103: A Divorce It Is, Who’s Afraid?

Wyatt Shaw froze for a long moment before slowly lifting his head to look at Yvonne Sutton. His eyes trembled, brimming with a rage he fought to suppress.

In the end, he let out a derisive snort, though it was hard to tell if it was aimed at her or himself.

"As long as you’ve thought it through."

With that, he stood up. He seemed to pull something, his brow furrowing for a second before he turned and walked toward the guest room.

Yvonne sat on the sofa in a daze. ’Was bringing up divorce an impulse? No. It’s just... I’ve fallen in love with him. I’ve started to care whether he loves me back. I’ve started to fixate on the other person in his heart, tormenting myself, even starting to resent him.’

’It feels like I’m walking the same path as Jean Bell, and I can see where it leads. It’s terrifying.’

She had thought a lot over the past few days, and in the end, she decided to give him up to save herself.

Back in her room, her phone rang. It was Mrs. Miller.

"Yvonne, is Wyatt home yet?"

’So he wasn’t working late at the office,’ Yvonne thought. ’He was at Chad Miller’s restaurant.’

"He’s back, so you can stop worrying."

"That’s a relief. David Sutton offered to drive him, but he refused. Oh, by the way, make sure you treat that wound on his lower back properly. I’m worried it might get infected."

"A wound on his lower back?"

"You didn’t know?"

Yvonne hung up, an anxious feeling settling in her heart as she headed to the guest room. She found him in the middle of a shower. Her brow furrowed, and she hurried over, pushing the bathroom door open.

He was already undressed, standing under the showerhead and shrouded in steam.

Yvonne’s eyes immediately fell on the injury on his lower back. It was as long as her forearm, the gash red and swollen, the flesh split open. She remembered that day at the cliff’s edge. He had yanked her from the car with all his might. She had fallen into his arms, and he had rolled with her, narrowly dodging the plunging vehicle and avoiding being dragged down with it.

The ground had been covered in shattered glass. That must have been when he got hurt.

Seeing her staring at his injury, he turned to face her.

"What’s wrong? Want to join me?" he teased.

Yvonne frowned and stepped inside, intending to pull him away from the spray, but he pulled her in instead. Hot water cascaded over her head, making it impossible to see or breathe. She shoved at him in a panic, only for him to press her against the wall.

He brushed her wet hair away from her face, his fingers tracing a line from her forehead down to her lower lip, which he then began to toy with.

Yvonne opened her eyes. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a smile, but his eyes still smoldered with rage.

She slapped his hand away, but he caught hers and placed it on his shoulder.

Yvonne sighed in resignation. "Let me see the wound on your back."

He raised an eyebrow. "Will I die if the wound gets infected?"

"If it’s serious."

"You don’t want me to die?"

"Wyatt, can you please stop fooling around?"

Wyatt lowered his head and kissed her. "I’ll let you see, but on one condition."

"What condition?"

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. He bent down, scooped Yvonne into his arms, and strode out of the bathroom.

"Guest room or master bedroom?"

"Wyatt!"

"Master bedroom it is. The bed in the guest room is too cold."

She never knew a moment of passion could be so frenzied. Her soaking clothes dampened the large bed as his dripping body merged with hers. The intense movements tore his wound open, and blood stained the damp sheets red.

When it was all over, she stared at the chaotic scene and felt like she was going mad herself.

Meanwhile, Wyatt was dragging fiercely on a cigarette. He was still angry.

Yvonne rubbed her forehead, took a quick shower, and then brought out the first-aid kit to tend to his wound.

The wound was already slightly inflamed and needed to be thoroughly disinfected. He was still being uncooperative, frustrating Yvonne to the point where her eyes reddened. Only when he saw she was on the verge of tears did he finally settle down.

Yvonne finished bandaging his wound and let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Wyatt..."

"I don’t want to hear you talk," he said, turning his back to her.

"I... I’m so sorry." ’Sorry that I have to give up on you, too.’

Wyatt scoffed. "Don’t think so highly of yourself."

Yvonne nodded. "That’s good, then."

With that, Yvonne turned and left the master bedroom, heading for the guest room.

She had just lain down when she heard a commotion outside. It was pretty loud. She threw on some clothes and went to check, only to find Wyatt crouching in the laundry room, washing the bedsheets.

"This piece-of-shit washing machine is useless. Ugh, why is this blood so hard to get out? I should’ve just bandaged myself up first."

Yvonne’s lip twitched. She had been planning on just throwing the sheets out.

She glanced at a basin nearby and was surprised to see her pajamas, already washed clean. He had ripped them off her in his haste earlier and tossed them aside. She hadn’t been able to find them afterward and had figured she’d wash them tomorrow.

"Be careful you don’t strain your back. Let me do it," Yvonne said.

Wyatt shot her a glare over his shoulder. "I don’t need your phony concern!"

Yvonne was rendered speechless. "I’m worried about your wound."

"You’re not going to be my wife for much longer, so why are you worried about me? Got nothing better to do?!" He was absolutely furious. Shouting wasn’t enough to vent his anger, so he turned back and started scrubbing the sheet with renewed vigor.

Yvonne rolled her eyes at him and walked away.

All night long, she could hear him CLATTERING and BANGING around outside, and as a result, she barely slept a wink.

Yvonne woke up the next morning with a slight headache.

She searched the villa but couldn’t find Wyatt, not until she heard voices coming from outside.

She stepped outside to see an electric tricycle parked there. A middle-aged man was circling an old piano, inspecting it, while Wyatt sat on the steps, smoking a cigarette.

’Isn’t that the old piano from the west wing? The one he, Chad Miller, and the others pitched in to buy for Hannah Abbott.’

"Look, sir, this thing’s made of wood, not metal. It’s not worth much. I’d have to take it back, break it apart... it’s only good for firewood, really. How about this: I’ll give you a hundred for it. Take it or leave it. Otherwise, I’m not going to bother hauling it."

"One hundred?" Wyatt exhaled a puff of smoke. "We spent over thirty thousand when we bought it."

"Doesn’t matter what you paid for it. It’s old junk now. Besides, I’m just a junk man. Why don’t you find someone who actually deals in pianos?" the man said, eyeing the instrument with disdain.

Wyatt wasn’t having it and continued to haggle.

After haggling it up to one hundred fifty, Wyatt tossed his cigarette butt. "Fine, take it."

The junk man couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, "Aren’t people who live here supposed to be rich? He spent half an hour arguing with me over fifty bucks."

The piano was too heavy, so Wyatt called over a security guard to help the junk man load it onto his electric tricycle.

The man counted out one hundred and fifty, and Wyatt stuffed the cash into his pocket.

Yvonne went back inside and made breakfast. When Wyatt came in, she called him over to eat.

He stood there with his hands in his pockets, his face a cold mask.

"Don’t cook for me anymore. It’s not like we’re anything to each other."

With that, he went upstairs.

’He’s throwing a tantrum,’ Yvonne thought, pressing her lips together. ’But this is just so childish.’

A little while later, he came back downstairs, changed into a suit and tie, looking every bit the high-powered executive.

"Why did you sell the piano?" Yvonne asked.

’It was probably the only thing of Hannah Abbott’s he had left.’ 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"It was an eyesore," he replied.

"If you were considering my feelings, there’s really no need..."

"Stop being so full of yourself!" he roared. "It’s just a divorce! You think I’m scared? Just you wait. As soon as I’m not busy in a couple of days, we’re going straight to the courthouse and getting it done!"

And with that, he stormed out.

Yvonne rested her hand on her forehead. ’I feel like I’m dealing with a rebellious teenager.’

That afternoon, Daisy Shaw called her in a panic, telling her to hurry over to the old family estate.

"I don’t know what’s gotten into Wyatt, but he’s insisting on cutting all ties with the family!"