My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 392

Hearing his mother's words, Quennel let out a sigh.

"Since things have already come to this, there's no point in talking about it. We can't rush things now. Let's just wait and see what he decides. After all, Hannah is waiting for his decision, too."

He already had people watching Hannah. He'd thought that with the scandal blowing up this big, she would surely react, especially since her reputation was on the line. But surprisingly, she remained indifferent, seemingly unconcerned.

Quennel couldn't figure out what was going on in Hannah's mind, so he could only wait and see.

"What if Lionel chooses the factory and just abandons Hannah? What happens if he manages to climb his way back up from there? He's so capable, you know. I can't help but worry."

If Lionel weren't so competent, she wouldn't be this afraid. The original plan was to exile him to a failing branch office, making it nearly impossible for him to return. But the board only demoted him to the factory, saying they could recall him once the scandal blew over and he'd proven himself there.

Quennel's expression was listless. "It's too late to change anything. But I'm sure he'll choose to handle Hannah's situation first. He doesn't want to divorce her right now. If he ignores her, she might escalate things and take it to court. That would be a public humiliation the board could use against him."

Quennel himself was puzzled. With things having gotten so out of hand, why hadn't Hannah blown the whole thing wide open? Why was she giving Lionel time to handle it? Could it be that she still had feelings for him?

"Calm down. Panicking won't help. We just have to wait and see. Let's just hope Hannah is completely over him. Otherwise, things will get very difficult."

Mary took the tea. Just as she brought the cup to her lips, a thought struck her, and she set it back down.

"Doesn't Hannah listen to you? Why don't you go and give her a little nudge? Maybe she'll blow this whole thing up. Then he won't even make it to the factory; they'll send him straight to the south, or even overseas. As long as he's out of Sova, we'll have our chance."

Hearing this, Quennel lowered his gaze, a faint, unreadable light flickering in his eyes.