At the anniversary celebration of the Song Group, I was embarrassed, holding my five-year-old daughter in hand, and watched coldly as my ex-husband accepted congratulations from everyone with his new love on his arm.
"Mrs. Song?" He glanced at my white washed old clothes with disdain, "Now I have to pick a clean one even if I call the housekeeper."
My daughter suddenly broke away from me and held up her child's watch to record: "Dad, you tricked your mother into signing the bankruptcy agreement. The lawyer uncle said he could sue you!"
The whole place was dead silent.
I picked up my daughter and turned to leave, but his panicked footsteps came from behind me.
Three months later, my medical device company was born, and the first order was taken away from Song's largest customer.
At the celebration banquet, he pushed me against the wall with red eyes: "The company will give you back, and my life will be given to you. Come back, okay?"
I swung the champagne and smiled: "Mr. Song, even shining my shoes now depends on whether you are qualified."
