The Divorced Billionaire Heiress chapter 13
“Eric Ferguson, this is what you’ve paid me throughout the three years for my blood. Now that I’ve paid you back, we don’t owe each other anymore…”
Nicole’s voice was cold and resolute.
Eric’s eyes were dark and deep, and his mood at this moment was extraordinarily complicated.
The crowd was clear about the situation at this moment. Earlier, Wendy Quade labeled Nicole as a gold-digger who clung to Eric for his money, but in the blink of an eye, Nicole slapped her in the face by returning everything Eric had ever given her. Wendy’s reputation had gone down the drain with this incident.
Nicole walked away glamorously while Wendy was left with chattering teeth as she shivered in the cold.
‘This woman is my nemesis!’ Wendy thought.
“Eric, Nicole must be mad at me again. Let’s just go.”
Eric refused to let go of this opportunity to clear things up with Nicole and said to Wendy, “Wait for me at the entrance.”
After that, he went straight in and saw Nicole sitting on a deck chair while the renowned Grant Stanton knelt by her side and rubbed her ankles that were slightly chafed by her high heels. Grant’s gaze was so tender that Eric found it jarring.
The two of them looked up at the unexpected guest. Grant Stanton smiled and sat calmly next to Nicole as he put an arm around her in a protective stance.
“Mr. Ferguson, shouldn’t you be comforting your companion? You’re still in the mood to settle scores right now?”
Eric frowned. His body was exuding an extreme coldness and his gaze was locked on Grant’s hand that was wrapped around Nicole. His tone was frigid as he said, “Nicole, if I’ve done something to upset you, you can look for me to settle the score, but you should apologize for what you did to Wendy.”
Nicole hooked up her lips slightly and met his gaze. “What if I don’t? Will you throw me into the water?”
Eric was displeased by her blasé attitude. Seeing that she was so quick to be associated with other men, Eric also felt inexplicably vexed.
“Since we used to be married, let me give you a word of advice. Be kind to others.”
“Mr. Ferguson, I guess you don’t know me very well. I was born evil.”
Eric choked. Nicole’s stubbornness was especially infuriating to him, but since they were divorced, he was in no place to tell her what to do.
His tone was cold as he spat out one word. “Fine.” He then turned to leave.
Eric was so exasperated that he forgot his purpose of coming to Nicole. He had wanted to explain to her about his relationship with Wendy, but there was no need for that anymore.
Nicole’s smile faded gradually. Grant patted her shoulder. “Lil N, do you still like him?”
“How’s that possible?”
Nicole sneered. She would not make the same mistake twice.
In Eric Ferguson’s car.
Wendy Quade was wrapped in his clothes. She was just about to explain what happened tonight to dispel Eric’s doubts about her when the driver exclaimed in surprise. “Eh? Isn’t that Ms. Quade?”
The driver slowly stopped on the side of the road and pointed to the huge digital billboard behind The Hilton Hotel.
That advertising space that cost tens of millions of dollars per minute was looping the footage of Wendy and Nicole at the poolside earlier.
Their faces had been censored, but the celebrities and dignitaries who went to the banquet knew the identity of these two women.
Eric’s eyes were fixated on the screen. It was a silent video, but it clearly showed that Nicole did not even touch Wendy. The latter just took a step back by herself, leaned back, and fell into the pool.
In an instant, the air in the car became cold and stagnant.
Eric’s face was even colder. His eyes were stern and gloomy because just a few minutes ago, he had gone to Nicole and asked her to apologize to Wendy.
This was Nicole’s reply to his request.
‘Ridiculous! Simply absurd!’
Wendy’s face was pale and she was trembling with extreme fear.
She never would have imagined that someone would play the surveillance footage from the banquet on a digital billboard that could be seen by the entire city!
“Bang!” The car door was slammed shut.
Eric Ferguson stood outside the car. His tone was cold and stern and his gaze was implacable.
“I’ll have someone send you to France first thing tomorrow morning!”