Chapter 4 Let's Get a Divorce!

Her pale fingers trembled as they clutched the doorknob; at that moment, Lauren felt a suffocating sensation in her chest.

Despite mentally bracing herself, she was still incredibly nervous at that moment. It felt less like she was catching a cheater and more like she was the one being caught...

Her slender fingers suddenly tightened their grip, and as Lauren pushed the door open, she was met with deep, probing eyes.

She stared at the person for a moment, lost in thought before her attention fixated on the woman rising from the sofa.

The woman, brazenly clinging to Quentin's arm with an intimate demeanor, clung to him like a koala, her revealing v-neck showcasing an ample expanse of cleavage that was enough to send pulses racing.

Lauren felt a wave of revulsion but somehow mustered the courage to step forward and, with a steely gaze, warned the woman in a low voice, "Have you had your fill of my husband's arm?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, the color drained from the woman's face, and she retorted, "I'm just holding onto the man who shared my bed last night. Is that wrong?"

Undisturbed by the provocation, Lauren replied with a light laugh, "There have been plenty of women who've shared a bed with my husband. You're just one of them."

"Without my permission, you wouldn't even set foot in this office. So, I'd advise you to be clear about where you stand; there's a difference between the wild and the domesticated!" Lauren's words were calm yet laced with biting sarcasm.

The woman flushed with embarrassment. Wasn't Lauren supposed to be a meek pushover? Since when did she become so sharp-tongued?

Now, her only resort was Quentin. She pressed her ample bosom against him a few times and said in a whiny tone, "Quentin, she's bullying me, and you're doing nothing about it—Your sweetheart is upset!"

Her sultry, tender words could send a tingling sensation down anyone's spine. Lauren was disgusted. She couldn't believe Quentin had such poor taste to be attracted to such a greasy woman—men really were undiscriminating.

Quentin stood by, watching like a spectator, quietly observing the clash between the women.

What surprised him was this once caged little wife of his—he never expected her to have this side to her.

If she was so adept at verbal confrontation, why had she never spoken up before?

Quentin's dark eyes settled silently on Lauren, seemingly with a hint of inquiry and a touch of newfound interest.

The atmosphere suddenly grew quiet, filled with an awkward tension.

The buxom woman, not willing to give up, launched another offensive, "Quentin, did you hear what she said to me?"

"Get out!"

No sooner had she spoken those words than the busty woman lifted her surgically enhanced face, adopting a haughty look as she ordered Lauren in a commanding tone, "Did you hear that? Quentin told you to get out, now scram!"

Lauren's brows furrowed slightly, her gaze drifting to Quentin’s inscrutable face. Her lips pursed, unable to produce a sound, her throat parched, her heart a tumultuous mix of emotions.

Once, she could have continued being the nominal Lauren—deaf and mute to the world around her, indulgent and uncaring.

But things were different now. She was pregnant. Perhaps driven by maternal instincts, she yearned to give her child a happy and complete family—that's why she had taken the initiative to weave herself into Quentin's life.

She wanted to fight one more time for herself, for her child...

"It's you I'm talking about."

After a long moment, Quentin's piercing black eyes targeted the busty woman, speaking in a chilly tone.

Shock flickered across her face, soon turning ugly as she hadn't anticipated this outcome.

"Quentin, why are you being harsh to me? Obviously, it is that woman..."

"Shut up!" Quentin's expression turned menacingly cold. "You have three seconds to get out of my sight."

Frightened, the buxom lady trembled, shooting Lauren a furious glance before quickly exiting the office.

Crossing Quentin was a consequence she couldn't afford; she left with her tail between her legs.

"What do you want?" Quentin cut straight to the chase.

Lauren was taken aback, hurriedly replying, "Grandma isn't in good health, can you spend a bit more time visiting her with me?"

She still couldn't bring herself to reveal the real reason; before Quentin, Lauren always felt timid.

"Fine," Quentin responded briskly.

Lauren tensed up, probing tentatively, "Dowager's wish is for us to have a child. What are your thoughts on that?"

She kept her head down, her fair little face mostly obscured, looking both innocent and pitiable.

Quentin eyed her demeanor with a rise of suspicion. The Lauren who stood before him now was as docile as a lamb, so different from her usual articulate self. She certainly was interesting.

"You have no right," Quentin stated against his will, his tone inadvertently softening.

Lauren abruptly lifted her head, her luminous black eyes staring at him, her lips—a rosy red akin to petals—pressed together, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip, "What if I told you that I am pregnant?"

"Ah!"

Caught off guard by the surge of pain, Lauren's wrist was seized by a pair of powerful hands, gripping tightly. She inhaled sharply from the pain.

Lauren lifted her gaze only to meet the man's indifferent, icy stare, and from his thin cool lips came words that were the equivalent of a death sentence.

"Get rid of it, now."

The command, brief, and piercing, cut through Lauren's heart, trampling her last glimmer of hope and dignity without mercy.

She clenched her fists tightly, her pale face breaking into a faint smile, "Quentin, I was lying to you, how could that be possible?"

For the first time, Lauren admired her own ability to lie so convincingly that she almost believed herself.

Quentin's large hand slowly relaxed. His face remained inscrutable, betraying no hint of his thoughts.

"I don't want today's incident to happen again," Quentin stated calmly, rising to sit at his desk and began examining contracts with a stern face.

A wave of discomfort washed over Lauren, and she spoke up, "Quentin, why do you hate me so much?"

"When you married me with an agenda, you should have known what your life was going to be like," Quentin replied evenly.

Lauren sneered. She had an agenda? She had only wanted to stay by the side of the man she loved—was that wrong?

But from his reaction earlier, it was clear Quentin was not going to accept the existence of the child.

Yet, Lauren had made up her mind to keep the baby.

"Quentin, I’ll set you free. Let's get divorced," Lauren suggested with a serene smile and an unnervingly calm voice.

Maybe it was in that moment of speaking those words that she realized after all these years of dedication to one person, in one villa, the obsession in her heart had gradually dissipated over time.

If leaving him meant saving this little life, it would be worth it.

She consoled herself, yet her heart remained heavy as if weighed down by an enormous stone that lodged there immovably.

Divorce?!

Quentin abruptly looked up. The word had unexpectedly spilled from the lips of the woman before him.

Since the moment he had married her, Quentin had only thought about how to get a divorce, but now that the goal was within reach, he felt an inexplicable discontent.

It was supposed to be his line, wasn't it?

Quentin's hand slammed onto the desk, his gaze fiery as he glared at Lauren and sneered, "First, you scheme to get me into your bed, and now you bring up divorce. Lauren, is this your so-called playing hard to get?"