Eleven Years All to the Wrong Man novel Chapter 8

Emma swallowed the oatmeal in her mouth.

After finishing the last of her pastry, she took a napkin and gently wiped her lips.

Evan was pretending to eat, but he was secretly watching her.

He noticed her brow furrowing one moment, relaxing the next, and then a faint smile touching the corners of her lips.

He tapped the edge of his bowl lightly with his fork. "What are you so lost in thought about?"

Emma snapped back to reality and gave him a detached look. "Nothing."

She didn't want to say any more to him. She stood up and left the table.

After all, if he kept asking, she couldn't very well tell him she was fantasizing about what another man looked like with his clothes off.

***

After breakfast, Evan left for the office.

Emma got ready and left the house as well.

She went to the most prestigious law firm in Averton City, clearly explained her request for a divorce, and had the lawyer draft a division of post-nuptial assets.

Once the agreement was ready, she put the documents in her bag and headed to the hospital.

The prescription she got last time didn't seem very effective. When the pain flared up, it was truly excruciating.

When Nathan saw it was her, his expression remained neutral. He stared at his computer screen, clearly having no intention of engaging in conversation.

Emma didn't seem to mind. She walked over in her heels and sat down across from his desk.

She had put on makeup before leaving the house today—her soft hair was styled in dramatic waves, and her lips were still a seductive, bright red.

She wore huge silver hoops that made her already small face look even smaller.

"Can you prescribe me something different? Price is not an issue. I want the most effective medicine you have."

The woman's long, slender fingers curled slightly and tapped twice on the solid wood desk.

Nathan's fingers tapped quickly on the keyboard for a few moments. "The exact amount is hard to say, but it's definitely within your means."

After saying this, Nathan subtly glanced at the bag resting on her lap.

A Hermès Birkin 25. If she could afford a bag that cost over a hundred thousand dollars, the treatment fees would be nothing.

"I see. Understood."

Emma pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. Without lingering any longer, she slung the bag over her shoulder, stood up, and walked out.

She didn't say whether she would get the treatment or not, just that she understood, and then she left.

He watched the woman in the black pencil skirt and red stilettos walk slowly out of his office.

Nathan turned his gaze away, his expression cold.

On such a cold day, she was wearing so little. She didn't look like a terminally ill patient at all.

But that was none of his business.