Ch. He Sent Me Overseas to Marry Her, I’m Staying Overseas to Never See Him Again 43 He Sent Me Overseas to Marry Her, I’m Staying Overseas to Never See Him Again 43

Chapter 15 

Charles frowned. “You’re not coming with me?” 

Diana shot him a glance and nodded toward a few employees still working at their desks. 

“I just don’t want them seeing us. If you’re not leaving, I am.” 

She didn’t give him even a second to hesitate-just turned and walked away, heels clicking 

decisively. 

Was she really someone she was ashamed to be seen with? 

Charles’s gaze dimmed for a second, but in the end, he still followed her. 

At the mall. 

After five stores and over twenty bags, Charles finally couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her 

wrist. 

“What?” 

Diana halted, her eyes still locked on the display case. 

He hesitated before asking, “Diana… when are you planning to go public about our remarriage?” 

Her eyes finally shifted to him-but not with the sweetness he hoped for. 

It was shock. 

“What did you just say? Remarriage?!” 

Her stunned look cut straight into his chest. 

Charles took a deep breath, trying to hold his confusion at bay. 

“We’ve been through so much, and we ended up back together… why not make it official?” 

Diana let out a cold laugh, then suddenly shoved him away. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Charles Foster? We’ve barely been back together for what — five minutes? Buy me a couple of lousy handbags and you think you’ve locked me down for life?” 

“Dream on! I was born to be free. I’m here for the thrill, not forever. You want love? Look elsewhere.” 

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Her voice was sharp, cutting. 

She snatched the shopping bags from the two stunned sales assistants, ripped the fancy wrapping to shreds, then threw the six-figure designer bags to the ground and stomped on them. 

After her tantrum was spent, she turned on her heels and strutted off in stilettos-never once 

looking back. 

Charles stood amid the wreckage, as if someone had just slapped him across the face in public) 

He slowly crouched down and started picking up the torn, trampled bags-each one once part of a million-dollar gesture of affection. Now, every piece ended up in the trash. 

No matter how deeply he breathed, he couldn’t dispel the heavy pressure in his chest. 

The two sales assistants exchanged awkward glances. 

“Sir, are you… okay?” 

Charles shut his eyes briefly. 

“I’m fine.” 

He was just… remembering. 

How even the simplest gift-a plain wooden hairpin worth only a few dollars-was kept tucked away in her drawer, cherished too much to wear…. 

The phone rang, abrupt and jarring. 

Mr. Chambers sounded grave on the other end. 

“Sir, we found something. Miss Schuyler… she never filed for divorce abroad.” 

Charles’s breath caught. “Go on.” 

“The boy-Evan-he was diagnosed with leukemia back overseas. But Miss Schuyler didn’t want her husband to spend money on treatment. That’s why she came back and looked for you…” 

“And I spoke with the doctor directly. That fall down the stairs? It had nothing to do with soap on the steps. He fainted from the illness. Mrs. Foster… she was falsely accused that day.” 

Charles didn’t return home until nearly dawn. 

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He reeked of cigarettes. His eyes were red-impossible to tell whether from the smoke or from 

tears. 

He hadn’t expected Diana to still be awake. 

Just as he was heading toward the shower, she called out behind him. 

“Wait.” 

He froze. 

A tiny flicker of hope lit inside him. 

If she’d just ask…how he was, whether he was all right, whether he was tired-then maybe… just maybe, she still cared. 

But her words were cold, mocking, and cut straight through him like a freshly honed blade. 

“Where’s my bag?” 

Charles looked up, disbelieving. 

One second. 

Two. 

The light in his eyes went out. 

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