I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping
Chapter 1035 - 729 Sorrow is no greater than the death of the heart (Thanks for the reward! Requesting monthly votes!)_2

Chapter 1035: 729 Sorrow is no greater than the death of the heart (Thanks for the reward! Requesting monthly votes!)_2

"Shut up! What are you? What right do you have to lecture me!"

Fang Ai lifted her hand to slap him, as if it had become a habitual action.

The expected sound of the slap did not occur. Ding He, who usually put up with everything, grabbed her arm.

"I am not a thing; I am your husband."

Ding He enunciated each word.

Using the current popular vocabulary, Ding He, who was cuckolded by his wife with the driver, was indeed a man full of great resentment. Yet, Fang Ai seemed even angrier than him, a man of great resentment.

"Fine, you really have grown bolder. Mr. Ding, I won’t give you another chance. You can get out of this house; I want a divorce."

Ding He did not compromise anymore. Even his complexion didn’t change a bit. With one hand, he firmly held onto Fang Ai’s arm while the other hand held up his cell phone, its screen facing Fang Ai’s face, and he moved it a bit closer.

"Look carefully, as long as I bring this video to court, under the marriage law, you would leave with nothing. But it seems I don’t even need to take it to court; everyone already knows."

Truly fitting for a great lawyer, he knew how to leverage his professional skills to defend his own rights.

The corners of Fang Ai’s mouth twitched into a smirk, but she also felt embarrassed and couldn’t help but curse: "Mr. Ding, have you gone mad? Yes, it’s true—it’s all here on tape. I did sleep with Veatch, not just once. I can tell you that we were often together: in cars, by the beach, on cruises... oh, and in this room too. Haha, he truly was capable, left me floating in ecstasy each time..."

"Really? It’s a pity; he’s already dead."

Fang Ai stopped in her tracks.

"What did you say?"

"I went to look for him today, no one was there. I think if he hasn’t fled the country, it must be your family cleaning up your mess."

Fang Ai frowned.

It wasn’t the news itself that shocked her.

Concerning the death of her lover, she had anticipated it. What made her uneasy was Ding He’s tone of voice.

"A hero’s death beneath the flowers, a romantic even in the afterlife. Tell me, do you think he felt wronged when he died?"

The smile blooming on Ding He’s face made Fang Ai feel even more alienated.

"Let go!"

She shook her arm, seeming to just realize what was happening.

But Ding He, unmoved, gripped her arm even tighter.

"Fang Ai, haven’t I been good enough to you? Have you ever, for even a moment, truly considered me as your husband?"

Ding He’s tone was soft, and it was unclear whether he was questioning Fang Ai or himself. While he looked at Fang Ai, his eyes were unfocused.

"Fang Ai, I thought you were smart. Do you not know your own place? One must be self-aware. Yet you even dare to confront me with this video."

Fang Ai seemed to find it amusing.

In her view, being cuckolded apparently didn’t even merit the right to demand an explanation.

"You could have continued enjoying your wealth and status, continue being a great lawyer, but alas, you have ruined the game for yourself. Without me, Fang Ai, let’s see what you, Mr. Ding, can amount to!"

Fang Ai’s face was cold, this time seemingly resolute, more than just being threatening.

"I have always managed and operated Tianhe, which you invested in. I’ll take the law firm, and you can keep everything else."

Asking Fang Ai to leave with nothing was, of course, unrealistic, even if legally permissible.

The deeply humiliated Ding He already asked for very little, yet Fang Ai seemed to have not a shred of compassion.

Ding He’s tone clearly agreed to the divorce and did not try to salvage anything, which insulted and offended the supremely arrogant Fang Ai.

"Dream on! Let me tell you, you won’t leave with a penny!"

"Tianhe means nothing to you."

A law firm was indeed insubstantial to Fang Ai, and she truly did not care.

But women, especially those spoiled, never consider that much.

To them, leaving a way out is nonsense.

"So what if it means nothing? I’d rather dissolve it than give it to you!"

Fang Ai snapped, "Let go!"

Ding He gripped even tighter.

Fang Ai felt the pain, her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled fiercely. "Mr. Ding, if you don’t let go, I’ll make you regret it!"

Finally, Ding He released his grip.

"Bang."

Caught off guard, Fang Ai lost her balance and fell backward, her elbow hitting the table, instantly turning her delicate skin red.

While not seriously injured, Fang Ai, as if enduring immense pain, shouted abusively: "Mr. Ding, prepare to beg in the streets! I’ll make sure you have no place in this entire country!"

With the power of the Fang Family behind her words, this was not merely a threat.

Miss Fang, so high and mighty, forgot an old adage.

Spare others when you can.

At the same time,

she probably never understood a simple truth.

A cornered honest man can be more terrifying than anyone else.

Ding He’s eyes gradually reddened, the last glimmer of hope shattered, and the volcano in his heart finally erupted.

Fang Ai’s vicious, mean face magnified in his pupils, then filled his entire mind; Ding He’s thoughts were blank, except for one resounding idea.

Make this bitch pay the price!

The small, sharp knife in the fruit plate became the most convenient tool; with his rationality completely extinguished, Ding He grabbed the fruit knife and, without thinking, thrust it into Fang Ai, who was leaning against the table.

"Ptui."

One stab.

Two stabs.

Three stabs.

Fang Ai’s eyes widened.

Ding He didn’t stop moving, thrusting in and out of his wife’s body, gradually quickening the pace, as if venting his masculine pride in another way.

Ding He’s clothes were stained red with spraying blood.

Who knows how long it went on.

Ding He eventually stopped.

The knife still embedded in Fang Ai’s abdomen, he let go, stepped back.

Fang Ai’s eyes wide open, she slowly slumped to the floor along the table, blood uncontrollably oozing from her rag-like abdomen, a sight that was ghastly to behold.

Undoubtedly, this top socialite of Capital City, who had suffered countless stabs, showed no signs of life; perhaps she would never have imagined dying so miserably, killed by a husband she scorned.

"Aren’t you quite proud? Be proud, keep being proud! Hahaha..."

Ding He didn’t panic; he looked at his wife’s corpse and even burst into a crazed laughter.

Because Fang Ai had instructed earlier, or rather when she was alive, there was no need to worry about servants coming up casually.

Blood silently flowed.

Gradually forming a pool on the floor.

The intense scent of blood began to spread.

For most people, after a rash act, they would feel scared by now.

But Ding He didn’t.

True to being a top lawyer, he possessed a robust mental resilience, or perhaps, he was utterly broken-hearted.

Leaving Fang Ai’s body there, Ding He proceeded into the bathroom that should have also been his, washed his hands, and even boldly took a shower.

Then,

he changed into clean clothes.

"Lady is resting now, do not disturb her for any reason."

Ding He descended the stairs, instructing the servant naturally.

Thanks to Fang Ai’s usual domineering behavior, the servants didn’t dare offend, and followed Ding He’s command.

Afterwards, Ding He even sat in front of the servants as usual, watched the news for half an hour, then took his laptop and began working in the hall.

It was deep into the night.

All the servants had retired.

Successful yet dutiful, Ding He closed his laptop; his gaze still and expressionless, he stood up and walked to the kitchen, eyeing the various knives.

A few minutes later.

He ascended the stairs, arrived at the master bedroom door, and easily twisted open the door that used to be as challenging as a chasm.

"Creak."

The door opened.

Through the crack, one could see Fang Ai’s body still lying stark straight on the floor, her head to the side, eyes staring in the direction of the door.

In the viewpoint.

Only the man’s two feet were visible.

Then the door slowly closed, gradually blocking those wide-open eyes.