I Married the President

Chapter 208: Chapter 208: What Can He Do to You?

Henry Hartwell: You want to buy a house?

Claire: Yeah.

Henry Hartwell: And?

Claire: I wanted to ask for your opinion. With a five-million-yuan down payment, where would be a good place to buy?

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, Henry Hartwell finally replied: ”Good grief, did you two fight again? Why the separation this time?”

Claire: It’s not a separation. I’m going to divorce him. I don’t want to rent anymore, so I want to buy my own place and then slowly pay off the mortgage.

Henry Hartwell: Paying off a mortgage with just a five-million down payment will be pretty difficult on your own. You’d be better off waiting until your copyright royalties come in before you buy. That way, the rest of your life will be a little easier.

Claire immediately asked: ”Can I know how much my copyright royalties will be?”

Henry Hartwell: We just finalized the deal. It’s fifteen million.

Holy shit!

Claire completely lost her composure, her voice filled with delighted surprise. ”So when will I get the money?”

Henry Hartwell: After they deduct 2.4 million in taxes, the rest is yours.

2.4 million?!

Damn, that’s highway robbery!

Seeing that number made Claire’s heart ache. She replied, ”Why do they deduct so much...?”

Henry Hartwell: That’s just policy. What can you do?

Claire: So when will I get it?

Henry Hartwell: Next month, probably.

’So I’ll have to keep renting until then?’

Claire sighed in disappointment and replied, ”Alright then. I’ll rent a place first. Teacher Hartwell, can you give me some advice? I don’t know where a good place to buy would be.”

Henry Hartwell: Sure, I’ll look into it for you. And don’t bother renting. Just come to my hotel. I’ll give you the VIP rate, 200 a night.

’200 a night is still expensive. That’s over 6,000 a month, and that doesn’t even include food and transportation.’

Claire: That’s too expensive. I can’t afford it.

Henry Hartwell: You silly girl, use your head. Do you really think Young Master Quincy will let you rent a place on your own before you’ve successfully divorced him?

Claire: He can’t control me!

Henry Hartwell: The last time Young Master Quincy came looking for me, I refused to see him on the grounds that I was on sick leave. Guess what happened?

Claire: Hmm???

Henry Hartwell: Aiden Howkins showed up with a team of men and blew my door off its hinges.

Claire: ...

’Thugs! Tyrants!’

Claire Sinclair didn’t doubt Henry Hartwell’s words in the slightest. After all, that was exactly how Aiden Howkins had dragged her to the Civil Affairs Bureau to get married in the first place!

Henry Hartwell: If you stay at my hotel, at least you’ll be comfortable. What can Young Master Quincy do to you there?

Claire: That makes sense. I’ll stay at your place then. Teacher Hartwell, could you please book a room for me? I’m going to go back and pack a few sets of clothes, and then I’ll head over.

Henry Hartwell: Okay.

’All settled.’

Claire Sinclair let out a sigh of relief and turned to walk back.

As she neared Quincy Manor, Claire Sinclair stopped. She didn’t know if President Lockwood was still inside. What if she went in and ran into him?

’Probably not. They’re discussing matters of state. There’s no way they could finish in just a few words.’

’While they’re still talking is the best time for me to go pack.’

With this in mind, Claire Sinclair walked openly through the entrance. But once inside the main building, she crouched down and tiptoed lightly up the stairs.

Finally, she safely reached a certain someone’s bedroom.

Claire Sinclair walked to the closet, pulled out her own clothes, and tossed them onto the bed.

Next, she gathered all her belongings from the bathroom. Finally, she stuffed everything into her suitcase.

There was no time to fold the clothes. She just rolled them into a ball, zipped up the suitcase, and grabbed her bag to leave.

Just as she reached the bedroom door and opened it, she ran right into a wall of flesh, so startled that she stumbled a step backward.

Seeing her holding the suitcase, Adrian Quincy’s eyes darkened, and his expression turned grim. ”Where do you think you’re going?”