Gold Digger vs Gold Saver My Man's Double Life novel Chapter 25

**Marriage Without Temperature by Mark Twain**

**Chapter 2**

My finger hovered over the screen, hesitating for a brief moment before I typed back to Alexander, my annoyance boiling just beneath the surface.

“If you genuinely want peace, then show me some real fucking sincerity.”

His reply came almost instantaneously, as if he had been waiting for my words with bated breath.

“Got it. I know what I need to do.”

There was something unsettling about his response, a hint of something insincere that gnawed at me, but I brushed it aside, focusing instead on the tasks left unfinished at the office.

Once I wrapped up my day, I slid into my car and began the drive back to my penthouse, the city lights flickering past like fleeting thoughts. Just as I was settling into the rhythm of the road, my phone rang. It was Grace, and her voice was laced with urgency.

“Where the hell are you?”

Her frantic tone jolted me, a sharp contrast to the calm I had been trying to maintain.

“Just left the office, heading home—”

Before I could finish my sentence, she interrupted me, her voice rising in pitch.

“Get your ass back to the office, NOW! Alexander’s up on your rooftop saying you’re trying to kill him. He just blew it up on Instagram, and the reporters are probably already swarming. You need a game plan—shit, the internet’s tearing you apart!”

My grip on the steering wheel tightened as the weight of her words sank in.

So that was what the bastard meant by “knowing what to do.”

He wasn’t seeking forgiveness; he was scheming, setting the stage for his next attack against me.

I forced myself to breathe steadily, trying to quell the rising tide of anger and panic. I quickly checked Alexander’s latest Instagram post, my heart racing as I read his words.

The screenshot of our private conversation was plastered across the screen, his caption reading:

“This is all my fault. If my death will calm your rage and stop you from hurting my parents, maybe this is the best ending.”

I read it again and again, each time feeling the cold chill of disbelief wash over me.

Then, a laugh escaped my lips, sharp and bitter.

Alexander Montgomery had sunk to an entirely new level of shamelessness.

I flung my phone onto the passenger seat and made a beeline back to the office, my mind racing with the implications of his post.

As I arrived, the sight that greeted me was chaotic. Several police cars lined the street, their lights flashing ominously. A rescue team was already on standby, ready to respond to whatever dire situation Alexander had concocted.

I took the elevator straight to the rooftop, my heart pounding in my chest as I stepped out into the open air. There he was, standing at the edge of the building, a tragic figure against the skyline. Mrs. Montgomery had fainted, her sobs echoing in the air. Mr. Montgomery was attempting to reason with him, his voice steady but filled with concern.

Chloe was there too, her cries piercing through the tension as she wailed that it was all her fault, that she should be the one to die.

What a dramatic performance. They were just missing their leading lady to complete the show.

I stood outside the crowd, scanning the scene, and immediately caught sight of the livestreamers positioned to broadcast this entire spectacle to the world.

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