My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 135:

His hesitation betrayed an underlying fear that Carrie might refuse. Quickly, he offered an olive branch. “I have a friend who needs scripts recently. The payment will definitely surpass what these companies offer.” If Carrie agreed, he wouldn’t mind investing in a film company. Her scripts’ quality was irrelevant.

He would finance their production as casually as he would purchase a designer bag or a piece of jewelry. Before he could elaborate, his phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a caller ID. Kristopher hesitated for a moment before swiping to answer.

The honeyed voice on the other end immediately spilled into the room. “Kristopher, I was thinking—I need a few more scripts to keep my options open,” Lise said sweetly.

The room froze. The call wasn’t on speaker, but her words rang loud enough for everyone to hear. Kristopher’s gaze flicked toward Carrie, a flicker of unease shadowing his face. “I’ll transfer two million to you now,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m busy right now, but I’ll call you tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Lise didn’t press him further, signing off with an obedient “Goodnight” before ending the call.

Kristopher tucked his phone away and looked up to meet Carrie’s piercing stare. Her expression was a storm of anger and hurt, her eyes glassy with unspoken grievances.

He was genuinely puzzled.

“Is this friend who needs scripts, Lise Nash?” Carrie asked, her voice trembling.

Her question hung in the air like a thundercloud. A friend? High-priced scripts?noveldrama

Carrie felt a pang of humiliation twist in her chest. After everything, had he really sunk so low?

The implication hung heavy in the air. If Norris Group needed scripts, they could hire anyone. Why involve her?

Kristopher frowned, shaking his head. “No. Why do you keep dragging Lise into this?”

Carrie’s laugh was sharp and icy. “If it’s not her, then who is it? I’ve never heard of any friend of yours needing scripts.”

Kristopher’s eyes darted away, his usual composure slipping. He had fabricated the story on the spot and now couldn’t conjure a single plausible name.

Carrie’s conviction solidified. It was Lise who wanted the scripts from the beginning.

“Kristopher, you’ve gone too far!” she erupted.

His suppressed anger matched hers. Tugging at his collar, he responded coldly, “What do you want? You demand respect for your career, and I’m providing resources. Yet you blame me? Even if it were for Lise, wouldn’t it be better than those third-rate companies? Lise wouldn’t be picky. Are you just itching for a fight, or do you really think I won’t divorce you?”

Carrie’s temper erupted like a volcano. “Then do it—divorce me right now!” she shouted, storming toward the door.

But a pang of frustration stopped her in her tracks. Turning back, her voice cracked with anger. “Resources? You’ve stolen my roles and handed them to her, and now you want me to bow down and be her servant? Dream on! I’d rather let my scripts rot than hand them over to that hypocrite. I won’t let my heroines be butchered and mocked by the audience!”

She spun on her heel, but before she could leave, Oliver stepped in to block her way, his face a picture of calm. “Mrs. Norris, Mr. Norris didn’t mean it that way.” Willow, struggling to suppress her amusement, added with feigned sweetness, “Mrs. Norris, won’t you have some late-night supper before heading out?”

Kristopher’s expression darkened, his temper barely contained. “Let her go!” he barked.

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