Chapter 27
After getting into the car, the chill around Kingsley deepened, his expression hardening into ice.
He tossed the divorce decree aside with impatient movements.
Shane, noticing this from the passenger seat, couldn’t help but whisper a reminder, “Mr. Sherwood, you’ll need to show the decree if you remarry p>
Kingsley shot him a cold glare, sharp and distant, silently asking “since when is it your place to meddle p>
He didn’t respond to the comment, only commanding darkly, “Back to the office.” Just as he spoke, the phone in his pocket vibrated.
Seeing “Grandmother” on the caller ID, his fingers paused before sliding to answer.
The old matriarch’s vigorous voice came through instantly, carrying undeniable authority. “Come back to the Manor. Immediately p>
“Grandma, I have meetings at the company. Whatever it is, say it over the phone p>
Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping lower, holding respect for his elder but concealing a trace of exhaustion.
“Put it aside! Come back first. The company won’t collapse without you p>
Old Mrs. Sherwood’s tone grew stricter, leaving no room for negotiation. Kingsley remained silent for a moment, eventually compromising. “Okay.” Hanging up, he turned to the driver. “Skip the office. Go to the Manor p>
He then looked at Shane. “Move the morning meetings to this afternoon. Send the notice p>
“Yes, Mr. Sherwood,” Shane replied immediately, taking out his phone to handle it.
Kingsley reached for the tablet beside him, but his fingers brushed against the ring on his left ring finger first.
He paused, then took off the ring and put it on the divorce papers. The ring’s cold gleam seemed to mock the whole situation.
Just as he put the ring down, his phone vibrated again.
It was a message from Thurston, the tone familiarly demanding: [Jerk, you have miracle bruise ointment and didn’t bring me any p>
Kingsley glanced at the message, a cold smirk touching his thin lips. His fingers tapped out three words on the screen, each one dripping with ice: [You aren’t worthy p>
Message sent, he didn’t look at the phone again, tossing it onto the empty seat beside him.
Fifty minutes later, the car came to a smooth stop in front of Sherwood Manor, nestled halfway up the mountain.
As the black Rolls-Royce Phantom arrived at the gate, the Bluetooth sensor triggered automatically and the heavy iron gates swung open revealing the manicured greenery within.
The moment the car stopped, the driver hurried to the back and respectfully opened the door.
Kingsley stepped out, holding the burgundy divorce decree in his fingers. With his other hand, he casually stuffed the removed ring into his suit pocket.
He strode toward the main house with his long legs. The servants waiting under the porch bowed as they saw him. “Mr. Kingsley p>
Kingsley gave a faint nod. He had just stepped into the living room when a teacup came hurtling toward his face.
Reflexes sharp, he sidestepped. The
teacup smashed against the corner of the wall with a loud crash,
exorcelain shards scattering
sending
across the floor.
“Why are you so angry?” His tone was calm, betraying no ripple of emotion.
“Why? You have the nerve to ask p>
Old Mrs. Sherwood slapped the armrest of her chair as she stood up, her chest heaving.
“You divorced Lucy? What do you think marriage is? A child’s game p>
Ever since she heard about the divorce, the anger had been burning inside her.
Kingsley let out a low “Mmm” and walked over to sit on the sofa opposite her, placing the divorce decree gently on the coffee table.
Wilma, standing beside the old lady, quickly picked up the document and handed it to her.
Seeing the details, the old lady’s hands began to tremble. She pointed at him and shouted:
“Kingsley! You were the one who insisted on marrying Lucy back then. Now you divorce her on a whim? You must explain yourself clearly today p>
“I don’t love her. We’re not a good match p>
Kingsley leaned back into the sofa, his fingers absently tracing the armrest, his tone nonchalant, as if discussing something trivial.