Desperate Funeral

Chapter 7

A huge bouquet of roses lay dramatically on the ground, catching the attention of everyone passing by. Before I could even step outside, Brian rushed forward and blocked my way.

Without saying a word, he dropped to one knee.

He pulled out a brand-new ring, holding it up with a trembling hand.

"Daisy, please… let me protect you," he begged. "I know the internet is full of nasty rumors about us right now, but time will prove the truth, and my innocence. I don't want to see anyone hurting you. Even if you insist on the divorce, at least let me stand by you through this."

People nearby began to gather and whisper, some taking photos, others murmuring in disbelief.

I didn't say a word. I stepped around him, got into my car, and locked the door. Then I rolled down the window and looked at the security guard, who was clearly enjoying the drama a little too much.

"Get him out of here," I snapped. "And make sure he's never allowed near the company again."

Some of the onlookers recognized me from the viral video and immediately started pointing and hurling insults.

Brian, of course, slipped right back into his role as the poor, devoted husband. He started pleading on my behalf, trying to spin the situation.

He really had no shame.

Even after receiving solid proof of his affair, he still had the audacity to act like nothing happened.

I couldn't believe I had ever fallen for someone like him.

That night, I couldn't sleep, I was furious, but more than that, something felt… off. Like I had missed something important.

At some point, I got out of bed and sent my assistant a message.

"Dig into every project Brian handled, every single account. Something's not right. He was way too calm… unless he already moved the money."

The next morning, before I even had time to get a response, Brian stormed into my office. Two security guards followed helplessly behind him.

"Ms. Gladwell, he's got your marriage certificate on him… we couldn't stop him," one of them said apologetically.

I set down the file in my hand, face hard. "Can't stop him? Then call the police."

Before they could move, Brian marched up to my desk and threw down a thick photo album.

He flipped through it frantically, shoving pictures toward me.

"Have you forgotten all of this?" he said, desperation creeping into his voice. "Look at how happy we were. How can you just throw it all away because of one crazy woman?"

He pointed at the receipts and proof I had sent him.

"All those bills? She faked them! And even if they are real, come on, your male business friends all have mistresses, don't they?"

"I'm not like them!" he insisted. "I just felt sorry for Shirley. She reminded me of myself when I first came to the city. I just wanted to help her, like a big brother. She misunderstood everything! The whole 'marriage' idea, that was all in her head!"

The more he talked, the more agitated he became. His voice rose, echoing off the walls of my office like a tantrum on loop.