My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage
Chapter 167

Elijah’s eyes flickered, the glint of a memory stirring.

“Did you make that 22 million in your account from writing scripts?” he asked, his tone halfway between curiosity and disbelief.

Elizabeth responded with nothing more than a nonchalant hum, a sound so casual it bordered on dismissive.

The arrogant tone from an earlier voice message echoed in Elijah’s mind, his annoyance simmering beneath the surface.

A company producing over-the-top dramas seemed beneath contempt.

The fact that Elizabeth, being his wife, was reduced to being bossed around was a source of profound embarrassment for him.

His dissatisfaction etched itself across his features.

“Let’s be clear,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension, “Have I ever been stingy with money? Why degrade yourself by writing such trashy scripts?”

Fury erupted within Elizabeth.

Why was his profession deemed prestigious while hers was viewed as self-degradation?

She flung her phone onto the sofa, her retort sharp and unyielding, “Everything I write is my hard work.

Even if you don’t understand, you will show respect!”

The doctors in the room wished they could vanish, their silence a testament to the charged atmosphere.

Elijah paused, the room holding its breath.

Just when everyone expected an explosion, he drawled, “Writing scripts is better than being a celebrity.

If you want to write, then go ahead.”

His hesitation betrayed an underlying fear that Elizabeth might refuse.

Quickly, he offered an olive branch.

“I have a friend who needs scripts recently.

The payment will definitely surpass what these companies offer.”

If Elizabeth agreed, he wouldn’t mind investing in a film company.

Her scripts’ quality was irrelevant.

He would finance their production as casually as he would purchase a designer bag or piece of jewelry.

Before he could elaborate, his phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a caller ID.

Elijah hesitated for a beat before swiping to answer.

The honeyed voice on the other end immediately spilled into the room.

“Elijah, I was thinking—I need a few more scripts to keep my options open,” Sandra said sweetly.

The room froze.

The call wasn’t on speaker, but her words rang loud enough for everyone to hear.

Elijah’s gaze flicked toward Elizabeth, a flicker of unease shadowing his face.

“I’ll transfer two million to you now,” he said, lowering his voice.

“I’m busy right now, but I’ll call you tomorrow.

Get some rest.”

Sandra didn’t press him further, signing off with an obedient “Goodnight” before ending the call.

Elijah tucked his phone away and looked up to meet Elizabeth’s piercing stare.

Her expression was a storm of anger and hurt, her eyes glassy with unspoken grievances.

He was genuinely puzzled.

“Is this friend who needs scripts, Sandra Nash?” Elizabeth asked, her voice trembling.