Missing Mrs. Lowry: The Billionaire’s Wakeup Call

Chapter 128

Chapter 128

Half an hour later, Megan returned to the villa, stepping out of the car without bothering with an umbrella, allowing the rain to drench her, feeling each drop as a baptism for her soul and emotions. Her shoes left a trail of wet prints on the pristine white carpet.

The housekeeper didn’t dare offer advice, only went to brew some ginger tea to ward off the chill for her.

Megan ascended the stairs, and the first thing that caught her eye was their “wedding photo.”

Sullivan had been reluctant to take the picture; it was she who had persisted, spending so much money to get it done. How many times had she gazed at that photo, hoping that one day Sullivan would love her?

But now, every glance was ironic!

Megan stepped onto the bed and took the photo down. She removed it in haste, and the sharp edge of the steel frame slightly cut her hand, leaving a streak of blood… Bright red droplets fell, shockingly vivid.

But Megan seemed not to feel the pain. She threw the frame to the floor!

Then she moved to the vanity, sitting down slowly. The mirror reflected the disheveled image of a woman. Megan quietly looked at herself in the mirror. Her whole body trembled, her hair soaked and clinging to her face, her clothes drenched and sticking to her skin. She resembled a woman abandoned by her husband, no–a fate even more wretched than abandonment.

abandoned, at least, is

her, she had loved him for six long years, only to be told

slowly opening the little drawer; inside, the diary lay intact,

in a daze, reviewing her numb adoration for

marriage, he was rough, but I thought he would

would become gentle; he would come to

feeling sorrow and irony. She felt it was

couldn’t even remember what it was she loved

was good to her were part of a calculated

with the picture frame and also found Sullivan’s lighter, which he usually used for his cigarettes, on the nightstand. She carried these items

sky continued to rain, and drops of water fell from

hesitate; she set the

a lounge chair. The pale orange flames

Chapter 128

a black Bentley sped in, screeching