How I Remarry My Ex-Wife by Alvin Humphre

Thiago couldn’t help but snort at the whole situation. Tve had nothing but trust for her, and look where that got me! Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

With a self–mocking laugh, he told her, “You look good. I gotta split and head over to work. Chill here, okay?” And just like that, he was out, not even glancing back, leaving Quincey without a chance to ask him to stay. 

Ding! The elevator doors sealed shut. Quincey, makeup–free and looking stormy, grabbed her cellphone off the nightstand and made a call. The other end picked up instantly. “Ms. Ferguson.” 

“He’s onto us. Fix it, and fast. No slip–ups, not right now, got that?” Quincey’s words were tight, the memory of Thiago’s icy stare creeping into her thoughts. No way she’d let Whitney wreck her plans. 

Outside, the sun was blaring, but it only bugged her more. She snapped the gray curtains closed. The ward was covered in a layer of gray haze. Quincey pulled open a drawer, retrieved a medicine bottle, and sneered. “How’s the company going?” 

“Not good, but we’ve managed to keep it running for now,” the man on the other end replied curtly, with no intention. of providing further details. 

Quincey knew better than to pry. She just nodded, and as she opened the pill bottle, it spilled out onto the floor. “Get him to the hospital. Now,” she said, ending the call with a cold flick of her wrist. Her phone went silent and she threw it aside, not caring about the thud it made. She just lay there, eyes closed. 

Over on Birchwood Lane, Thiago sat in his black Bentley, shades on, smoking a cigarette with his arm hanging out the window. Staring at his phone, one unnamed number stuck out with its stubborn ‘Unable to Connect. 

He scowled and flung the phone onto the seat. Just as he fired up the engine, it started ringing. He answered, flicking the cig away. “Yeah?” 

“Mr. Mackenzie, I’ve sorted out the situation. Jeremy spoke quickly and succinctly. “Ms. Collins‘ aim has always been. the company. Posting Ms. Ferguson’s video was just a stepping stone.” 

“How dare she confront us–Thiago’s words were cut short as he suddenly remembered the condition in the divorce papers stating Whitney would leave the marriage with nothing. 

“Ha!” Thiago could not help but sneer. He had not expected her to start plotting against him when drafting the divorce papers. 

He thought, ‘Unbelievable! She was all over marrying me, and now she’s flipping it all over one mess–up. Divorce, and hitting up my company? Cute. I have underestimated her over the years. 

After a pause, Thiago said, “Grab me the hospital’s security videos. And I want Ferguson’s doctor to cough up her 

medical records.” 

Upon hearing that, Jeremy was momentarily stunned, then quickly responded, “Mr. Mackenzie, the hospital just informed us that Ferguson passed out because her old injury acted up again.” 

“What?” Thiago paused, taken aback. But he collected himself fast. “What old injury are we talking about?” 

Jeremy replied, “Her leg injury, sir.” 

Thiago hung up the phone before he said anything more. He frowned and steered the Bentley toward the direction of the hospital. 

In the company, Jeremy let out a long breath, and the austere atmosphere in his sleekly decorated office lightened slightly. He returned to his desk, feeling agitated as he gazed at the ever–increasing notifications on his phone. 

12:22 PM 

He picked up his phone, sent a text message, and then powered it off. 

Whitney could predict what would happen next after she spread the news online. She had already prepared a new SIM card, ensuring her peace of mind. She woke up from a nap and grabbed her phone immediately to check the latest buzz. After a quick look, she shut it down. It wasn’t what she’d hoped for. 

She thought to herself. Would a woman who’d throw herself down stairs just to frame me really care about some trash talk from strangers online?‘ 

Those innocuous comments could not harm Quincey in the slightest. That was not what Whitney wanted. 

She fired up her laptop, browsed the EconomicEdge site, and punched Mackenzie Corporation in the search bar. The stocks were still sliding, but not like before. It was clear they’d get things under control soon enough. The PR team at Mackenzie Corp wasn’t just for show. 

After closing her laptop, Whitney changed into a chic cream dress, grabbed her bag, and checked out of the hotel. She had someone way more crucial than Thiago or Quincey to meet up with. 

The hallways of Pinecrest Hospital in Jacaster were quiet and seemed to stretch on forever. Thiago made his way to the private room. The doctor glanced up as he came in. “Mr. Mackenzie, Ferguson’s in rough shape. She could use someone by her side to make sure things don’t take a turn for the worse.” 

His words were quite direct, but but Thiago just nodded. “How’s she doing?” 

The doctor replied, “She’ll be okay. This kind of weather can make those old injuries act up. Coupled with the haste of running and twisting, it only exacerbates the pain. Taking medication for a few days will help, but it’s important not to skimp on the future rehabilitation.” 

Thiago just nodded again. 

The doctor passed the prescription to him and gave some instructions before leaving. In the ward, Thiago stood with his hands in his pockets, and Quincey lay on the hospital bed with a pained expression. 

Quincey couldn’t handle Thiago’s icy stare and broke the silence. “Thiago, you’ve got it all wrong about me- 

“Save it. You need to heal up. We’ll talk later, Thiago cut her off sharply. 

“But I don’t want you getting the wrong idea,” Quincey pressed on, a tear running down her face. She forced a bitter smile. “Those insults online? They don’t scare me. I’d go through that fall a hundred times over. You know how I feel. Thiago, you know that I- 

“Quincey, Thiago cut in, his voice a bit softer. “I really don’t wanna hear this.” 

Hearing that, Quincey forced a smile and put on her usual gentleness, “Okay, I’ll stop.” 

Thiago just looked at her, kind of lost for words. He leaned in, brushed her hair back from her face, and stood there, giving her silent support. 

Quincey didn’t push her luck. She was on thin ice already. So she just chatted about everyday stuff to kill time. 

Suddenly, her expression changed. 

Thiago frowned. “Something wrong? Are you in pain? I’ll get the doctor.” 

She grabbed his wrist quick as he got up. Her cheeks turned pink and she whispered, “Thiago, come here.” 

Thiago leaned in, a little unsure. And then, suddenly, he lost his footing and tumbled onto the bed. 

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