I Upgraded To First Class And Downgraded Him To Ex-Husband Chapter 08

I Upgraded To First Class And Downgraded Him To Ex-Husband Chapter 08

Zach never replied.

Caleb stared at the red exclamation mark on the screen until his eyes burned bloodshot.

He sold every scrap of junk he could find in that basement.

Scraped together enough for the cheapest hard-seat ticket on a Greyhound bus.

He endured two full days and nights huddled in the carriage.

Caleb shrank into the corner of the hard seat, not even daring to drink much water.

He arrived, utterly disheveled, in the city from the photo.

He traced the landmarks in the photo’s background.

And like a headless fly, he staked out the base of every major office tower near the financial district.

Braving the elements, sleeping rough.

When thirsty, he drank from public water fountains; when hungry, he gnawed on dry bagels.

The third afternoon.

Caleb was leaning against a utility pole across the street.

The building’s revolving doors turned.

He squinted.

Across the road, he saw me walking out.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored beige suit.

Surrounded by several senior industry executives, walking and talking as we went.

“Ms. Mitchell, we’ll proceed with the project exactly as you directed,” the vice president beside me said, his attitude deeply respectful.

I gave a slight nod.

At this moment, I was radiant and glowing with confidence.

A complete world apart from that greasy-faced, kitchen-smelling, worn-out wife in the old Reed family kitchen.

Caleb instinctively wanted to rush forward.

The word “Honey!” had already reached the tip of his tongue.

But he glanced down at himself.

Yellowed collar, worn-through shoe tips.

His body still reeked of sour, days-old sweat.

He forced himself to stop dead in his tracks.

Intense shame kept him from stepping closer.

Just as he saw me reach the curb and the driver had already opened the door of the business sedan.

Extreme unwillingness overpowered the humiliation.

If he missed today, he might never find me again for the rest of his life.

He ignored the traffic light.

Abruptly sprinted across the crosswalk.

“Tessa!” he screamed, his voice raw and desperate.

The driver slammed on the brakes.

The tires shrieked against the asphalt.

Caleb pounded both hands on the hood.

His whole body sprawled across the front of the car.

“Tessa! Get out here! Look at me!”

I sat in the back seat.

I didn’t even roll down the window.

The driver looked back at me.

“Ms. Mitchell, this guy seems to know you?”

I stared through the windshield at the face contorted with agitation.

“I don’t know this person,” I said, my voice even and steady.

“If he’s staging an accident to scam us, call the police directly.”

The driver nodded and reached for his phone to dial.

Outside the car, Caleb pounded frantically on the glass.

Trying to get my attention.

I picked up the tablet beside me and continued reading the report I hadn’t finished.