NovelGoldChapter 361 For more than a month, Claire had spent her days at home, quietly embroidering, blissfully unaware of everything going on outside her small world.
Vincent Lewis, however, hadn't been nearly so lucky.
He was supposed to be handling Asher's divorce case-a golden ticket, or so he thought, to finally turn his luck around. Vincent had pinned all his hopes on winning that lawsuit, collecting the million-dollar attorney's fee Asher had promised, and leaving his humiliating days of scraping by behind him.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtBut Asher had vanished without a trace. No matter how many times Vincent called, he only ever got a disconnected line. The silence was agonizing. If he lost this case, he'd be right back where he started-scrounging for scraps, living hand-to-mouth.
Just as despair began to set in, Vincent ran into Asher by pure chance on the street.
It took him a moment to even recognize his client. Asher had gained so much weight in such a short tthat Vincent nearly walked right past him. Thankfully, despite the added heft, Asher's features hadn't changed much. Vincent stared in disbelief at Asher, who was struggling to catch his breath with every step. "Asher? What the hell happened to you? It's only been a month-how did you end up like this?" Asher wanted nothing more than to disappear. He'd always been a little vain, proud of his looks-the heartthrob of his class, once upon a time. Now, he looked like a greasy, bloated mess, and he could barely stand to look at himself, let alone be seen by anyone else.
Worse still, he'd lost his job. Apart from his wife, he had nothing left.
Without saying a word, Asher glanced at Vincent, his eyes dull, and shuffled off in the direction of home, looking as if he could barely put one foot in front of the other.
Vincent hurried after him. “Asher, didn't we agree over a month ago that I'd help you with the divorce? Why did you suddenly vanish? Where the hell have you been?" "What I do is none of your business. Leavealone," Asher muttered wearily, his voice barely more than a breath. Even talking seemed to drain what little energy he had left.
Vincent refused to drop it. "Fine, whatever you were up to isn't my concern. But right now, the divorce is what matters. You wanted to walk away with your wife's inheritance, remember? We need to set up the evidence of her cheating." Asher couldn't stand it anymore. In his current state, who would want him if he got divorced? Besides, Sean-the ruthless CEO of Foster & Co.-had already made it clear that no company working with Foster & Co. would ever hire him. There was no place left for him in this town.
He took a shaky breath and said, "I'm not getting divorced. Just drop it." Vincent's heart sank. "What do you mean you're not getting divorced? We had a deal! I win the case, get you your wife's assets, you paya million. You can't just back out now." Asher was already in a foul mood and just wanted to get home, collapse in bed, and ask his wife to take him to a doctor once he'd recovered a bit. But Vincent wouldn't stop pestering him, and Asher finally snapped. His face twisted with rage as he screamed, "What part of 'leavealone' don't you understand? Whether I get divorced or not has nothing to do with you!" Vincent, whose own life was in shambles, wasn't about to let someone like Asher -who now looked like a washed- up slob-yell at him in the middle of the street.
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"You're the one who beggedto help you with this divorce! Now you're blaming me? o me? Look at yourself-you ballooned up in just a month. Who knows what kind of trouble you've been getting into to end up like this." That was the last straw. Asher lunged at Vincent, fists flying.
Vincent fought back, refusing to be bullied.
One was an overweight, out-of-shape mess; the other, a cripple with a bad leg. The two of them grappling on the sidewalk made for a truly pitiful spectacle.
Passersby quickly gathered, forming a curious circle around the brawil watching the absurd scene with amusement. But with both men in such poor shape, neither fight nor fury could last long.
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