Submitting to My Ex-Wife novel (Pearl and Marc)

Chapter 2

Pearl gathered herself and opened the laptop. Her fingers flew swiftly across the keyboard, infiltrating the surveillance system and erasing all traces of h

“Mr. Males, Mrs. Pearl left,” Marc’s assistant reported to him when Marc returned to the mansion the next morning.

Marc opened the master bedroom door, breathing in the fragrance of roses. He had

grown

accustomed to the scent of Pearl.

Marc rarely set foot here. Pearl had decorated it. Its color scheme differed from the other rooms. The bright yellow bedsheets felt tranquil and warm. Marc didn’t linger. He walked to the bedside table.

Pearl had already signed the divorce agreement but didn’t take the check. There was a gold pendant next to it. His name was on the back, while the fron

beautiful.

Pearl loved roses. She had planted many in the yard, but he had never given her a

bouquet.

There was also a card. Marc read it. In elegant handwriting was the message, “Happy third anniversary. Goodbye, Marc.”

Marc’s brows rose. He looked at the calendar on the table. It was indeed their anniversary. How quickly time flew. Marc held the gold pendant and wondered

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where Pearl got the money. This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

While Marc gave her a considerable monthly household allowance, Pearl seldom touched the money, claiming she didn’t have much expenses.

Marc listened to his assistant’s report, his eyes dark. He ordered, “Find out where she went and her recent activities. If my opponents sent her, bring her back.” He wondered, ‘Is Pearl really who she claimed to be? A country–born orphan?‘

Three days later, the headquarters of Woolery Group, located in the CBD Business Building in Nanston, was in chaos. Employees rushed in quickly. The

Two days ago, the Woolery Group, which was on the brink of bankruptcy, was miraculously revived. Someone mysterious had acquired its plummeting s

“Who’s the new CEO? Does anyone know?” one of them asked.

“No one does, not even the higher–ups. It’s a real mystery. I hope our savior is a handsome guy!” another chimed in.

“Dream on. What if it’s a woman?” a third retorted.

“Please. That’s impossible. You might as well wish Miss Woolery was alive again,”

someone else added.

A loud warning voice shut them up. “Quiet. Here it is!”

Everyone waited with bated breaths, their eyes on the entrance. A black Rolls–Royce

stopped at there. The vice CEO walked up and opened the door.

A pair of black four–inch– high heels appeared first, followed by a woman with short hair and a white suit. She straightened slowly, her exquisite makeup enhancing her beautiful features.

The familiar face surprised those executives who had worked at Woolery Group for nearly ten years. “Miss Woolery!”

Pearl smiled. “Hey, long time no