4
Sarah was getting bolder and bolder.
Mark’s fists clenched, his face dark.
“This… this is Sarah’s body? She used this
elaborate ruse to avoid an apology.
Impressive! The watch is still there, the
details are well–handled!”
“Is she watching my reaction from
somewhere, secretly gloating, thinking she’s
outsmarted me?”
His assistant reminded him, “Sir, that’s Mrs.
Johnson. The clothes are identical to what
く
she was wearing that day! There’s no
mistake!”
Mark glared coldly at his assistant.
“Myanmar’s in chaos, bodies are everywhere
on the streets. She didn’t even need props to
pull this off! I want to see where she’s
hiding.”
He gritted his teeth, turning angrily, but
stumbled and almost fell.
Vivian, waiting in the helicopter, saw Mark’s
grim expression and rushed over.
“Mark, honey, your sister…”
Before Vivian could finish, she followed his
hurried footsteps.
There were no cameras in the slum, only one
nearby on a main road.
Mark got the footage from that day. The
video showed Sarah walking past, then being
cheerfully escorted out of view by several
men in military uniforms.
<
Mark smashed his phone to pieces.
“A perfectly healthy woman, laughing and
chatting with men, looking like she’s having
the time of her life, clearly forgetting all about
home.”
Their tenth wedding anniversary was next
month.
He was running out of patience. If she didn’t
come home before then, the marriage was
over.
This was Sarah’s most cherished day.
Since she dared to play games with everyone,
she could experience losing her status as
Mrs. Johnson.
On the way back, Mark sat alone on the
plane, silent for a long time.
When he saw the lights on in his garden, he
sighed in relief, a mocking smile on his lips.
He wondered how long Sarah could hold out.
She was still greedy for the title of Mrs.
<
Johnson and came back obediently.
“You weren’t killed in Myanmar, then? What
are you doing back?”
