Will Be Gone 11

Chapter 11 She Doesn’t Feel a Thing
Colette bit her lip, her eyes burning with rage. Clearly, she didn’t want to admit defeat. Just as she was about to say something, Anastasia looked around and arched an eyebrow. “Questions?”
The shareholders exchanged glances before lowering their heads and falling silent.
“You…”
As Colette was about to speak, Anastasia cut her off. “Alright then. The meeting’s over.”
Then Anastasia turned around and looked down at Colette. “Ms. Lloyd, I want the detailed information about our current artists and their endorsements on my desk by this afternoon.”
Picking up her handbag, she smiled, “Show me how efficient you are. We don’t need good-for-nothings here.”
With that, she walked out in her twelve-centimeter-high heels briskly.
Colette clenched her fists, her face turning livid as she glared at Anastasia’s retreating figure.
She thought, “The new CEO is tough to deal with.”
Meanwhile, Anastasia walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor deftly, as if she had been here a couple of times already.
As the elevator doors opened, her phone rang. She took it out and saw an unknown number flashing on the screen.
She answered and heard a mellow, polite male voice. “Hi there. Is this Ms. Carney?”
“Yeah. Who’s asking?” she said flatly and unhurriedly.
“This is Mr. Gutierrez’s lawyer. He’s left you an asset, and you need to come down here to settle the transfer.”
Her gaze turned icy at once. “Tell him I don’t want his money.”
With that, she was about to hang up.
The lawyer, however, stopped her immediately. “Wait, Ms. Carney!
“Mr. Gutierrez has left you a property. Even if you don’t want it, you’ll still have to come here and sign the papers.”
Anastasia thought, “Does Felton really think I need that house?
“Too bad he’s wrong.”
She said, “Fine. Meet me at Messika Café on Southwater Road.”
Her tone exuded an air of nobility, making anyone want to bow to her.
She strode out of the company, hailed a cab, and arrived at the café ten minutes later.
The second she walked in, she saw Felton sitting by the window.
With a sneer, she walked toward him. “Mr. Gutierrez, you really went all out just to see me.”
She pulled out a chair, sat down, laced her fingers together, rested them on the table lazily, and mocked, “I didn’t give you enough credit. Kudos on knowing my number.
“Tell me then. Why wouldn’t you leave me alone?”
Felton still found it hard to accept—it was like she was a completely different person.
He wasn’t here to fight with her, though.
He pushed the document on the table toward her. “Take a look. It’s what you’ll have after the divorce.”
Anastasia glanced at him and said, not even touching the document, “Felton, please tell me you don’t really think I still care about this pocket change of yours.”
“Yeah, why would you? You’ve found yourself a sugar daddy, right?”
Felton suppressed his anger, his voice deep.
Anastasia smiled, feeling nothing. To her, Felton was already in the past.
He could believe whatever he wanted. She simply didn’t give a damn.
“Whatever you say.”
“Is that a yes? So, you do have a sugar daddy?” Felton’s gaze darkened as his jawline tightened. It seemed he was trying his best to suppress his fury.