Chapter 62

"What did I do wrong?" Annabelle clutched the napkin so tightly her knuckles turned white. "That bitch Evelyn just won't give up! I already showed her mercy at the hospital last time—even personally delivered pear soup to her. Doesn't she get the message? It's been a month, and she still hasn't signed the divorce papers. And today, she just happened to run into us..."

A cold smirk twisted her lips, her eyes glinting with malice. "I've seen plenty of women like her—playing the innocent saint. If I don't teach her a lesson, she’ll really think she can walk all over me."

Alexander Hamilton abruptly stood, his chair screeching against the floor.

"Enjoy your meal. I'm leaving."

"Alexander!" Annabelle slammed her hands on the table, rattling the dishes. "Don’t you dare walk away!"

He paused for only a second before continuing toward the parking lot without looking back.

"Fine! Go ahead!" Her voice rose to a shrill, hysterical pitch. "I’ll throw myself in front of a car right now! See if you can live with that guilt!"

Patrons turned to stare.

"Sir," a middle-aged woman interjected, "pregnant women are emotional. You should be more understanding."

"Exactly," another diner chimed in. "She’s sensitive right now. You must not be giving her enough security."

"Those homewreckers are cunning—always targeting married men."

"The worst are the ones who pretend to be friends while scheming behind your back!"

Amid the murmurs, Annabelle’s sobs grew louder. "Alexander! You heartless bastard! Twenty years of love, and you just throw it away like this?!"

Alexander clenched his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Who was the real schemer here?

"Sir," a waiter whispered, "your wife’s distress isn’t good for the baby..."

"Alexander!" Annabelle suddenly grabbed a steak knife and pressed it to her throat, her voice piercing. "Take one more step, and I’ll slit my throat right here!"

The restaurant fell dead silent.

Alexander slowly turned, his gaze fixed on her trembling hand. "Put the knife down."

"Come back!" Tears streaked her face. "I’ll drop it if you come back!"

He walked back to the table, his voice icy. "Happy now?"

Her lips quivered. "You... you only came back because you were afraid I’d kill myself?"

"Annabelle," he rubbed his temples wearily, "what happened to the proud, confident woman I knew?"

"And what about you?" Her bloodshot eyes burned with fury. "You used to listen to everything I said! Now, because of her, you won’t even look at me!"

Alexander studied her in silence.

"Fine," he finally said. "What do you want?"

A triumphant smile curled Annabelle’s lips as she lowered the knife. "Finish this meal with me."