I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping
Chapter 1034 - 729 Sorrow is no greater than the death of the heart (Thanks for the reward! Requesting monthly votes!)

Chapter 1034: 729 Sorrow is no greater than the death of the heart (Thanks for the reward! Requesting monthly votes!)

"Sir."

At dusk, Ding He, who hadn’t been to the law firm for several days, drove back from outside.

"Lady?"

"Lady is upstairs."

The same answer again.

"Did she have anything to eat today?"

"She had lunch."

Ding He nodded, expressionless, "I dined out; you don’t need to prepare anything for me."

As he walked into the living room, Ding He sat down on the sofa, tugged at his collar, and then pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, taking one out.

"Click."

With the crisp sound of a lighter, the cigarette lit up.

The servants were all surprised to see this scene.

Since their time here, they had never known the male host, a distinguished lawyer, to have a smoking habit—this was a first.

Could it be that he had refrained before due to the Lady’s presence?

And now that the Lady had shuttered herself in her room these past few days, not even coming downstairs, he was letting loose?

Of course.

Regardless of how lowly the male host’s status was in this mansion, it wasn’t their place as servants to criticize.

The nannies acted as if they saw nothing unusual and went about their tasks.

The smoke swirled.

Ding He, successful yet regarded as insignificant in some circles, held the cigarette listlessly, his eyes empty, seemingly lost in thought.

He didn’t go to the law firm today either.

After watching a video sent by a foreign client, he had called the driver who was on leave, but no one answered.

So, today, he had gotten the address from the butler and personally went for a visit, yet he still didn’t meet anyone.

Was it really just leave?

Or an escape?

Ding He’s pupils slowly constricted, then dilated as he took a puff of his cigarette.

He had quit smoking many years ago and wasn’t quite used to the taste anymore, but he could find no other experimental way to numb himself.

Alcohol?

He feared he might lose control completely.

He dared not visit his own law firm, even though few knew he was married, and even less likely knew who his wife was. But that’s the psychology of humans.

A thief naturally has a guilty conscience.

Even though he was not at fault, he was the biggest victim.

The potent nicotine didn’t have its usual effect at this moment. As one cigarette burned out, Ding He’s mood didn’t improve at all—his breathing heavy, like a waking volcano.

There was no ashtray at home, so he stubbed the cigarette butt directly onto the marble coffee table, then stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

"Sir, what would you like?"

"I’m taking some fruit up to the Lady."

"I can help you."

"No need, I’ll do it myself."

Ding He personally picked out a plate of fruit from the richly stocked fridge, washed it, and carried it upstairs.

"Sir, the Lady has instructed..."

As he was about to go up the stairs, the housekeeper blocked him.

Ding He stopped.

In the past, he would have let bygones be bygones, not arguing with a servant, but today he was unusually firm.

"She is my wife; if I want to see her, do I need your permission?"

The housekeeper was taken aback, caught off guard by Ding He’s sudden outburst.

"Move aside."

Ding He stared at her directly.

A servant, after all, still didn’t dare openly defy the authority of Ding He, the male host. The housekeeper stepped aside, warning at the same time, "Sir, be careful, the Lady might get angry."

Ding He, disregarding her warning, carried the fruit upstairs.

"Knock knock knock..."

The sound of knocking echoed.

Fang Ai, who had been cooped up in her bedroom for days, sat in front of the desk, clutching a pen, annoyed, "Who is it?"

"It’s me."

Hearing Ding He’s voice, the disheveled and haggard Fang Ai’s gaze flickered. She turned around and shouted at the door, "I’m not feeling well, don’t bother me."

Although not very polite, it was a clear improvement from before.

"Click."

The door opened.

Fang Ai never had the habit of locking her door; after all, in this mansion, who would dare to intrude into her bedroom without permission.

The always compliant Ding He walked in with the fruit.

Fang Ai put down the pen, "I said don’t bother me, don’t you understand?"

"I brought you some fruit."

Ding He closed the door behind him, approached, and put the fruit down. He saw a notebook on the table unintentionally.

It was filled with names.

This must be why Fang Ai had stayed shut in the past few days.

Through the increasingly sloppy handwriting, it was clear that Fang Ai’s impatience was growing worse. Ding He even noticed a familiar name at the end of a page.

Fang Qing.

"Snap."

With one hand, Fang Ai closed the notebook, showing no sign of remorse at this point, still imperious, "Get out."

Ding He looked away.

"I have a question I want to ask, then I’ll leave."

"I’m busy."

Fang Ai, without a second thought, dismissed him.

"Right now, it seems like you don’t have much to do."

Fang Ai’s face turned cold.

"Ding He, you are becoming more presumptuous by the day. If you no longer wish to stay in this family, then pack your things and get out!"

"I can leave, but there is something you should explain to me."

Ding He pulled out his phone, opened a video, then held it up to face Fang Ai.

"What is this?"

Fang Ai’s complexion shifted, personifying the art of boldface lying.

"What is it? I don’t know!"

At this point, she still showed no sign of regret.

Ding He’s heart turned completely cold, and the resentment and humiliation that had accumulated over the years churned like magma.

"You don’t know, so let me tell you. This is a video of you and your driver in a sordid affair. Fang Ai, with your esteemed status, how can you behave like this? Don’t you owe it to your status to do better?"