No Future No Love Novel by Lesilie Wong _ Novel




No Future No Love Chapter 01

The moment I agreed to the divorce, Ramon Harlow was on his phone, soothing his mistress.
At my words, he looked up and said, "I know I've failed you. If you ever need anything, just ask. I'll do whatever I can to help."
Everyone envied me for marrying him—a formidable tycoon I'd fallen for at eighteen—and the life of luxury that followed.
They'd all conveniently forgotten that I had left everything behind and moved to Chicago alone, just to be with him.
To be fair, he'd done his part too— begging his mother relentlessly for her blessing to marry me.
He had no idea I wouldn't ask him for anything ever again—I'd be out of his life for good.
I glanced down at my phone as two messages lit up the screen.
"When are you coming back to Washington, D.C.? Let me pick you up."
"Josephine, the promise I made to you at seventeen will remain unbroken for as long as I draw breath."
***
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, fireworks launched into the night sky, bursting into brilliant colors before fading to black.
Ramon had arranged this anniversary display for 7:00 p.m. on July 24 every year since 2012—seven years in a row.
The show always lasted exactly fifteen minutes, marking the age we were when we first met.
Far below, crowds familiar with the annual tradition had gathered along the river, eagerly watching.
Couples hugged, kissed, and cheered. The whole spectacle was put on for me, but I felt completely numb to it all.
Back in the dimly lit dining room, Ramon sat at the far end of the long table, tall and imposing in a sharp suit. He kept his head down, typing on his phone, the glow from the screen sharpening his chiseled features.
I watched him for a long time before I finally spoke. My voice was quiet and distant, but my head had never been clearer. "I agree to the divorce. I've filled out the joint petition. I'll see you in court tomorrow morning."
He looked up at me. "Today is our anniversary. Let's not talk about this."
I slid my wedding ring off my finger and set it on the table. "There's no better day than today. Let's end things on the exact date they began, Ramon."
He stayed silent for a beat, then pushed his chair back and stood. "Fine. I'll pick you up in the morning."
The house was massive. Before he even made it to the front door, I heard his phone buzz. He answered, his voice low and gentle.
"Yeah, she agreed. Okay, wait for me at home."
He let the door fall shut with a soft click, the way he always did.
I stayed at the table, watching the sky until the very last firework fizzled out into the dark. Then, I stood up.
Just then, my phone chimed. An upbeat, automated female voice chirped, "Dear, today is your seventh wedding anniversary with Ramy. You two must be celebrating. What did he get you this year?
"Let me guess—"
I reached over and swiped away the calendar alert, cutting the cheerful voice off mid-sentence.
I unlocked my screen and, without hesitation, texted a real estate agent to list every single property I owned.
When I first moved to Chicago, Ramon was terrified I'd feel insecure, so he bent over backwards to reassure me.
His mother had never really liked me—she didn't even show up to our wedding.
Back then, Ramon transferred every asset he could get his hands on into my name.
He deeded me his two largest properties. One of them was the penthouse I was sitting in right now, which was valued at around 8 million dollars at the time.
Later, after his dad died, he took over the Asteron Group and aggressively expanded the business. He constantly bought new properties in my name and even set up a trust fund for me.
Back then, he was full of guilt. "Josie, I'm so sorry—and so grateful—that you moved all the way here alone for me," he said. "I want to give you everything, but it never feels like enough."
I'd press my forehead against his and tell him, "Ramon, I don't care about the money."
After all, when we first met, he was just a scrappy teenager who'd get into a fistfight over a pair of cheap sneakers.
I used to joke just to make him feel better. "You've given me more than enough. Even if you walked out on me right now, I'd be completely financially set in Chicago."
Turned out, I was right. Our marriage was over, and we were effectively strangers now. But I was walking away with my dignity—and enough money in the bank to guarantee I'd never be left out in the cold during a harsh Chicago winter.

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