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Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Chapter 1569
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Eyes bore into her like she was a piece of meat on display at a butcher's shop. There was a moment of deafening silence before

Wendy feigned surprise, her hand tically covering her mouth.

"What in the world is happening with this lady? How did she even get in here? Someone, please, show her the door, pronto!"

However, Tyler glanced her way at that moment, and it was clear that under normal circumstances, Belinda had no business being

in this bar. Wendy must have pulled sstrings.

Wendy's original plan was to make Belinda embarrass herself in front of Fitch, but Zoey's arrival was a welcbonus, hitting two

birds with one stone.

Security was already dragging Belinda out, but she kept hurling insults.

"Let go of me! I'll take down that tramp! TRAMP! She's nothing but a bitch!"

Such vulgarity was too much for the refined ears of the crowd, and faces crinkled in distaste. This was when Wendy saw her

chance to question deliberately.

"Oh, Zoey, your mother is being tossed out. Aren't you going to check on her? Maybe teach her smanners? We're all women

and yet she speaks that way; makes one question her upbringing."

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Zoey's body shook, her eyes involuntarily searching for Fitch. She couldn't help herself; she had to look at him.

Fitch frowned at this moment - whether at Zoey's predicament or Belinda's words, it was unclear.

Zoey didn't dare hope for anything as she clutched her purse tightly, her fingers brushing the slap mark on her cheek.

Anybody with half an eye could tell her face was swollen, but in Fitch's eyes, it might well have been the work of her own mother.

Considering their rocky relationship and her mother's fiery temperament, hitting her own daughter seemed within the realm of

possibility.

He would never suspect his own sister.

Zoey heard Mia let out constant chuckles, "Zoey, you see? This isn't the place for you or your mom. Sometimes, you just have to

know your station."

But Wendy, ever the peacemaker, interjected, "Mia, that's enough. Zoey's already had a tough night. Let's just get her a ride

home."

Wendy's face was the picture of compassion, the quintessential lady of an influential family. Zoey, on the other hand, stood in the

shadows, looking every bit the court jester.

The crowd murmured, but none cto judge them. Only Tyler frowned, sensing perhaps that Fitch might live to regret someday.

Fitch wasn't one to get close to women easily. Even though he agreed to meet Wendy tonight, they had maintained a polite

distance throughout.

Zoey was his first, the only woman he'd ever let in, and that meant something. Tyler's gaze followed Fitch, only to catch his

retreating back. Fitch had found the whole scene tedious and already headed out.

As he passed Zoey, he paused. Zoey's heart skipped a beat, only to hear his dismissal, "What a mess."

It felt like a sword through her heart, causing her almost bending down for unbearable pain, but she couldn't deny it; she was

indeed a mess tonight.

She turned her head away, refusing to let the mind wander. While Wendy quickly followed Fitch, but not before giving Zoey a small,

pitying smile that stung more than outright scorn.

Tyler watched the unfold, shaking his head slightly. Just when he thought Zoey would crumble, she approached him calmly.

"Tyler, can we talk?"

Fitch was nearly out the door when he saw Zoey stepping up to Tyler. He couldn't help but pause and look back.

There was Zoey, standing in front of Tyler, her face swollen but her smile forced. Tyler was surprised she actually meant to speak

with him. He was about to respond when Mia couldn't hold back.

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"Zoey, what's your game? You can't snag my brother, so now you're setting your sights on Tyler? That's low, even for you."

Zoey's voice was steady, "| need to discuss something important with Tyler."

She didn't owe Mia an explanation. Mia fumed at her response, ready to lash out, but Tyler cut her off, "Enough, Mia. Your brother's

already left. Why don't you chase after him?"

With that, Mia huffed and stormed off after Fitch.

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