The Ex-husband Wants to Get Power Every Day After the Divorce

7 Chapter 7: Mr. Gallagher, is Miss Wen No. 3?

Translator: 549690339

“Joshua Thompson is my friend.”

“Friend?” He looked at her sideways, raising his brows with a cold expression, “I didn’t expect you to be friends with someone like Joshua Thompson.”

Joshua Thompson’s reputation as a womanizer precedes him; if it weren’t for his status as the Thompson family’s third son, probably no one would be his friend.

“What’s wrong with someone like him?” Molly Walker’s eyes flickered, her tone mocking, “How much better is Mr. Gallagher than him?”

Joshua Thompson was her ally. Even if he was unreliable, at least he was on her side. As for Michael Gallagher? He kept trying to persuade her to give up, time and time again.

The more she compared them, the more she was inclined to defend Joshua Thompson, her words unconsciously biased: “Please, Mr. Gallagher, stop talking about my friend like that.”

Michael Gallagher’s eyes deepened, anger flaring in his profound gaze, “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

Thinking of Joshua Thompson’s remark that “women are like clothes,” his face suddenly turned cold: “Thompson is used to playing around, you can’t control him.”

“What does that have to do with me? As long as he offers me an olive branch, should I refuse?”

Molly laughed as if it were only natural.

Her husband wasn’t on her side, so when someone showed their support, how could she push them away?

Upon hearing her words, Michael Gallagher’s face grew even colder, as if an ice wall had been erected around him, and the temperature dropped accordingly.

“Do you like Joshua Thompson that much?”

He knew he shouldn’t be angry.

It would be fine if she found a normal, ordinary person, but who was Joshua Thompson? He’d played with so many women he couldn’t count them all on two hands.

With her personality, once she entered the Thompson family, she probably wouldn’t last a year.

“Do you think the Thompson family is the same as the Gallagher family? Can Joshua Thompson really protect you? Molly, you’re still young. Don’t casually throw away your future.”

Molly’s heart trembled, and she looked up with a light laugh: “How else could I throw it away? Hasn’t my marriage already been thrown into your hands?”

Michael Gallagher stared at her face, his lips pressed together without a word.

After a while, he spoke again, his voice softer.

“After the divorce, I’ll leave the villa to you.”

Molly was slightly taken aback.

“You’ve lived there for several years, and even after the divorce, we’ll still be friends…”

“No need.” Molly clenched the coffee spoon, stirring it randomly in her cup, “Let’s not keep in touch after the divorce. I don’t need the house.”

Michael Gallagher’s adam’s apple moved, his pupils extraordinarily profound.

She was the one who drafted the agreement that day and seemed genuinely unwilling to have any relationship with him. In the agreement, she had almost nothing left.

“Michael!”

At some point, Isabelle Richardson had arrived, her voice neither too loud nor too quiet, just enough to interrupt both of their thoughts.

“It’s only fair she doesn’t want the house. Someone who cheats during their marriage should leave with nothing.” Isabelle’s tone is condescending, her words sharp and direct.

Thinking of Michael secretly leaving the villa to Molly, she was so angry her heart ached.

Why should a cheating woman get anything from the Gallagher family’s property?

Isabelle’s arrival made Molly’s eyelids twitch, especially when she mentioned infidelity during marriage, making her face go numb.

When did she commit infidelity during her marriage?

She recalled Michael asking if she had someone she liked when she proposed the divorce, and she had answered yes.

Unexpectedly, Michael Gallagher shared even such a detailed matter with Isabelle Richardson. She had truly captured his heart.

“If we’re really talking about infidelity during marriage, who can compare to Mr. Gallagher?” Molly watched as Isabelle’s face flushed red and then turned pale with great interest.

Her “infidelity” lacked evidence, but Michael Gallagher’s cheating was well-known throughout the city.

“I’m curious, Miss Richardson. What have you gained from being his No. 3 for all these years?”

At these words, Isabelle’s face twisted in anger.

Molly laughed heartily, unable to do anything to Isabelle for the moment, but she could still say things that would upset her.

The crowd of onlookers grew larger, some of them holding cameras, clearly reporters.

She had seen them early on. They had come with Isabelle Richardson.

Isabelle raised her chin slightly, confidently and arrogantly, “Miss Walker, actually, when Michael married you, he and I were already together. You were the one who interfered with our relationship, and you’re the real No. 3!”

Under Isabelle Richardson’s prompting glance, the long-awaiting reporters finally swarmed up.

“Miss Walker, Miss Richardson says you are No. 3, is it true?”

“Are you already divorced from Mr. Gallagher?”

…

The chaotic microphones crowded her mouth, and the surging crowd almost pushed Molly Walker off balance.

At this moment, a hand blocked all the microphones.

It was Michael Gallagher who had stepped in.

“Mr. Gallagher!” The reporters were somewhat embarrassed.

Michael Gallagher’s slender figure and handsome face, looking like a finely carved sculpture, appeared even colder under the sunlight.

Such a dazzling man had no reason to be ignored, but they had listened to Isabelle Richardson and deliberately directed all their questions at Molly Walker.

His appearance now was like fireworks on a cold winter’s day, igniting among the crowd.

“Mr. Gallagher, is it true that Miss Walker is No. 3?”

Someone asked, and the scene suddenly quieted down.

Everyone was waiting for Michael Gallagher’s answer.

Molly was waiting, too.

If Michael Gallagher admitted she was No. 3, she would bear the stigma forever. If he denied it, the one being scolded would change to Isabelle Richardson.

Even knowing what the answer would be, she still wanted to know if he would stand up for her in public.

Michael Gallagher stood there like a pine, his deep eyes gazed at her with emotions she couldn’t decipher.

His indifferent appearance made her heart suddenly drop.

“Dear reporters, do you still need to ask this question? How long have I known Michael, don’t you all know?” Isabelle Richardson’s smile was sweet, and her innocence instantly made people feel fond of her.

Their playful and intimate tone immediately closed the distance between her and the reporters.

The reporters suddenly realized.

Yes, who knew Molly Walker before the hidden marriage scandal broke? But Mr. Gallagher and Miss Richardson have known each other for many years, and they are the national CP in many people’s hearts.

How could Isabelle Richardson be No. 3? In terms of time, it was Molly Walker who had suddenly appeared and seemed like No. 3.

The reporters’ gazes towards Molly Walker changed.

“Miss Walker, why would a good person like you become No. 3?”

“I heard her family is poor, and she married Mr. Gallagher by any means necessary. What else could it be for? Money, of course!”

…

Accusations flew like knives, and Molly Walker lowered her head and laughed, mocking her own wishful thinking and expectations of someone.

“I was the one who proposed.” Michael Gallagher finally spoke, his voice pleasant and cold, like a torrent that washed away her embarrassment.

Molly’s nose became sour.

She did care about her reputation, and she wanted to hear him say personally that she was not No. 3.

Molly’s lips slightly lifted.

This man finally spoke up for her in public.

Michael Gallagher added, “We are in a contractual marriage.”

A contractual marriage had no feelings, nor did it distinguish the order of emotions.

With these words, Michael Gallagher took all responsibility upon himself.

The reporters could only shift the topic to Molly Walker.

“Then, Miss Walker, will you bless Mr. Gallagher and Miss Richardson?”

Blessing…

Molly laughed bitterly.

Did these people really think she should make way for them?

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