Chapter 45: Chapter 45: Let the Whole Internet Know Vivian Linton Is a Mistress
Holly Sinclair’s face was cold as ice as she spoke, her words ringing with conviction.
At first, she hadn’t suspected Vivian Linton.
But something the scumbag said that night made her realize this was no mere accident.
The scumbag said—
"Heh, she really *is* a looker. Guess it’s my lucky day."
Those two words, "really is," meant the scumbag knew of her.
So she ventured a guess: it was highly likely that Vivian Linton had hired someone to hurt her. She must have viciously told the scumbag how beautiful Holly was, implicitly telling him to ruin her face...
But she had no proof.
Still, she had to take a chance.
If Tristan Sterling would just believe her this once and investigate that scumbag, they could probably track down the mastermind.
And yet—
"Are you paranoid? Stop dragging Vivian into everything!"
Tristan Sterling’s expression turned utterly grim.
Every word was a dagger to her heart.
A chill washed over Holly Sinclair’s heart, leaving it ice-cold.
"Ha."
An utterly scornful laugh escaped her lips, one she couldn’t hold back.
Yet the corners of her eyes quietly reddened.
’Of course. It was always like this!’
Even though she had expected this outcome, Holly Sinclair still felt like she was suffocating.
It was an agonizing feeling.
She threw herself back onto the bed, pulling the covers over her head.
Silent tears of anger and resentment streamed down her face.
Tristan Sterling shot a cold glance at the petulant woman.
He turned, his face grim, and strode away.
...
「Three days later.」
Once her injuries had healed, Holly Sinclair headed to Julian’s Studio.
Thinking about the studio’s bright future, the gloom in Holly’s heart vanished.
Although Mrs. Quincy’s two-million-yuan fee had gone to Vervain Studio, Holly had secured the Quincy Family as a long-term, high-value client.
Holly Sinclair was confident that Julian’s Studio was on the path to success.
The thought put a spring in her step.
She had expected a cheerful welcome, but when she walked into the studio, she was met with the sight of Justin Schofield’s deeply troubled face.
"What’s wrong, Justin?"
She approached him, puzzled.
Justin Schofield looked utterly dejected and didn’t answer.
"Mr. Schofield is planning to sell the studio."
A junior designer named Joanna York whispered anxiously from the side.
She was terrified of losing her job.
"Sell it? Why? We just landed the Quincy Family as a major client. Business is about to pick up," Holly said, now completely baffled.
’The studio’s performance was dismal before, and Justin still couldn’t bear to shut it down. Why would he want to get rid of it now that things are finally looking up?’
"My whole family is emigrating."
Justin Schofield sighed, a wave of reluctance washing over him.
The light in Holly Sinclair’s eyes dimmed, and she sank dejectedly into a chair.
She was utterly crushed.
The good mood she’d felt just a moment ago was gone without a trace.
’I thought if I could just get my career on track, I’d be able to take care of myself and my brother,’ she thought. ’Then I’d finally have the standing to divorce Tristan Sterling.’
’I had just seen a glimmer of hope...’
’And now another setback.’
’All I want is a divorce! Why is it so damn hard?!’
As she stewed in her misery, a bold idea suddenly surfaced in her mind.
"Justin, the studio..."
Her energy returned in a rush. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Justin Schofield. "How much are you selling it for?"
"You want to take it over?" Justin Schofield read her expression.
"Yes!"
"I originally priced it at thirteen million, but if you want to take it over, I’ll give it to you for ten million."
"Okay! I’ll take it!"
Holly Sinclair slapped the table and shot to her feet.
...
After settling on a price with Justin Schofield, Holly Sinclair ran into a new problem.
She had no money.
Forget ten million—she couldn’t even scrape together one million right now.
After mulling it over, she finally found herself standing before the entrance of the Sterling Group.
She had to see Tristan Sterling.
The receptionist was no longer Megan Grayson.
When Holly said she was there to see the CEO, the receptionist politely asked her to wait a moment, then immediately called Connor Grant to check.
Soon after, Connor Grant himself came down to escort her upstairs.
The CEO’s Office.
Connor Grant pushed the door open, and after Holly Sinclair stepped inside, he tactfully closed it behind her and left.
Holly Sinclair stood just inside the door.
Tristan Sterling was standing before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, his back to the door, talking on the phone.
It was probably a business call.
He conversed in fluent English, his unhurried manner exuding a natural, commanding aura.
The sunlight streamed in, bathing him in a golden halo that made him seem exceptionally brilliant.
He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. The silhouette of his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs was the very picture of irresistible temptation.
Tristan Sterling turned slightly to the side.
Holly gazed at his flawless profile, momentarily lost in a daze.
’That face has caused me no end of trouble.’
He rapped his knuckles sharply on the desk.
"Did you come looking for me just to space out?"
He had finished his call at some point, and his mocking voice now filled her ears.
"No." She quickly snapped out of her daze.
Tristan Sterling walked to his desk and leaned back against it, crossing his legs lazily. "So, what do you want?"
"A divorce."
She cut straight to the chase. "Tristan Sterling, I don’t want the fifty million anymore. Just give me ten million."
The man’s dark eyes, like poisoned daggers, fixed coldly on her face.
"Ha."
A deeply scornful laugh escaped his thin lips.
Thinking he still felt it was too much, she said anxiously, "It has to be ten million. I can’t go any lower!"
Tristan Sterling’s expression turned impossibly cold.
"You’ll get nothing." He crossed his arms, his words merciless.
Holly was furious. "Tristan Sterling, you—"
"And you can forget about a divorce."
"Tristan Sterling, we were husband and wife! Do you have to be this way with me?" she demanded, her eyes turning red with frustration.
"Come here."
He watched her for a few seconds, then gave the cool command.
Holly didn’t want to obey.
But for the money, for the studio, for the divorce...
Swallowing her pride and indignation, she walked toward him.
She stopped in front of him, meeting his gaze defiantly.
Tristan Sterling reached out, gripping her chin and pulling her closer.
His thin lips brushed against hers. "I can give you the fifty million, but you are never to mention divorce again."
Holly’s hands clenched into fists.
’No! My main goal is the divorce!’
’Everything I’m doing now is to get away from him.’
’I’d rather have a divorce with no money than money without a divorce.’
Holly took two steps back, putting distance between them.
Meeting his determined gaze, she knew the negotiation had failed once more.
Taking a deep breath, she gave a faint, grim smile, ready to burn her bridges. "Tristan Sterling, if you won’t agree to a divorce, then I’ll send our marriage certificate and the photos of you with Vivian Linton to the press. I’ll let the entire internet know that Vivian Linton is a homewrecker!"
"You dare!"
Tristan Sterling erupted in fury, grinding his teeth as a storm gathered in his eyes.
"I’ll give you one day to think it over."
Without wasting another word, Holly turned and walked out.
She was confident she would win.
Tristan Sterling couldn’t bear to see Vivian Linton get hurt in the slightest.
He would definitely agree to her terms.
...
Holly Sinclair had given Tristan Sterling one day to consider her offer.
Yet, a mere ten hours later, the news of her secret marriage to Tristan Sterling was exposed.
Along with photos of Tristan Sterling and Vivian Linton looking very much like a couple.
Both stories instantly shot to the top of the trending lists.
The internet went into an uproar.
