I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

Chapter 1 SYDNEY'S POV 001 "Do you like this?" I received a video. The man speaking in the video was my husband, Mark, whom I hadn't seen for several months. He was n**ed, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, th**sting forcefully into a woman whose face I couldn't see. "Yes, yes, baby," The woman giggled, turned around, screamed ecstatically in response. I felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my head. It was bad enough that my husband was having an af**ir, but what was worse was that the other woman was my own sister, Bella. "Do you treat my sister like this in b*d too?" Bella's co**ettish voice rang out. "Don't mention her," Mark's ruthless voice echoed. "I haven't even ki**ed her; she can't compare to you at all." "I knew you only loved me!" Bella smiled satisfied. I felt a wave of nausea and couldn't watch anymore. I angrily pressed the pause button, swallowing hard. I was very clear--this video must have been sent by Bella. She wanted to tell me that she still had Mark in her grip, and I was powerless against it. Apart from a certificate and title, Mark and I didn't resemble a married couple at all. Bella indeed knew how to twist the knife further. Three years ago, on that fateful day I never imagined would begin the worst turning point of my life, everything was ready to celebrate the union of Bella and Mark. It was only minutes to the wedding when Bella disappeared--or at least, everyone found out she was gone. Bella was nowhere to be found. My parents, desperate to salvage the embarrassment and save face in front of the guests or whatever it was they were trying to protect that day, turned to me. They told me to put on my sister's wedding dress, to take Bella's place at the altar. There was no room for argument, nor was I given the choice to say no. I was to be the figurehead, the stand-in bride who would fulfill the ceremony in Bella's absence. There were no words of blessing and no well-wishes for a happy future. Instead, all I received were instructions to "be a good wife." This was how it all started. I was left numb, standing there in the borrowed wedding dress to exchange vows with a man I barely knew. It felt as though my dreams and aspirations were suddenly overshadowed by the harsh reality of my circumstances. It was like my life had been snatched away from me in an instant, and I barely recalled what happiness felt like after that day. I was constrained in every sense of the word. Did I say this was how it all started? No, I think it actually dated back to when I was three and had unfortunately gone missing. For eighteen long years, I lived away from my home and family. Growing older. As I grew older--from being a child to a teenager and then a young adult--I kept searching for my roots again. And when my long-awaited dream of reuniting with my family became reality, it was nothing like I'd expected. There was no joyous reunion, no tears of happiness. Instead, I was met with something close to indifference. As if I were a stranger who had wandered into their lives. My parents seemed to have moved on from me after all those years I was gone. All the love they had was for Bella; barely any was left for me. I guess there was nothing left, in fact, because if there was, I would at least have been pitied enough to be told that Bella had returned from abroad and had somehow found her way into my husband's arms. Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with an incoming video call from Bella. I didn't want to answer it at first but ended up swiping green. Bella's face popped up on the screen, sitting in the same room from the video with a towel wrapped around her body. "Hi, hope you're having a happy day over there," Bella chirped with a smug smile. She moved the phone's camera around to show more of the room, and in the background, I caught a faint glimpse of Mark walking into the bathroom. "Guess who's going to die a pathetic old vi**in? Not me!" She laughed callously. I silently clenched my teeth. I was reeling with annoyance from the in**lt. "He doesn't deserve you," she added. "He deserves better. And I'm what's perfect for him, darling." There was no way I was going to listen to any more of that. I angrily ended the call and flung the phone on the bed, then buried my head in my hands. I'd had enough. I wasn't going to sit still and let myself be dragged through the mud like a rag any longer. By the time Mark returned to the house, it was already well into the night. I sat on the cold tiles of the living room, hanging my chin on my palm and nearly dozing off when I heard the sound of the front door clicking. That familiar musky scent of his followed him inside, and I could swear I smelled Bella on him too. My eyes blinked open, and I raised my head, locking a blank gaze with his face. There was that brick-hard look on his face which he always had when I was around. To think of how he had been grinning from ear to ear earlier with Bella. After our marriage, everything I'd been told by my parents to do, I did--taking care of his food, his daily life, and several other things too many to count, all for three years. It happened so frequently it became a ritual, like a dance ingrained in my daily routine. Mark accepted it without question. But not for one day did Mark spare me even a second glance. Mark shut the door behind him and began walking into his room, treating me as usual, like I was invisible. For the first time, I spoke. "I want a divorce." He turned to face me, an incredulous look on his face. "What are you talking about?" "I don't want this title of wife anymore," I answered without mincing words. That day three years ago, when I stood in that white dress, and he in his tuxedo, a congregation behind us and a preacher in front, I saw the calm look of restrained anger in his eyes when he realized it was not Bella behind the veil, but me. I remembered my ch**t tightening behind the diamond necklace I was wearing. The way his stare burned. How st**id and helpless I felt in that dress. How my parents smiled as if they'd not just pushed me out there against my will, and the congregation cheered, probably with no idea what was happening. "You may now k**s the bride," the pastor announced. Mark leaned closer toward me, but not to k**s. He merely brushed his face past my cheek and spoke into my ear, "The only thing you can get is the title of wife." And that title was what I was giving back to him. I didn't want it anymore. I wished I'd never let myself take it in the first place. I'd let go of too much of myself and endured more than I needed to. It was the height of everything. "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time--even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics or try to attract my attention!" How typical of him to believe that I was trying to get his attention. I hadn't attracted that so-called attention of his for over three years, and now when I mentioned divorce, he remembered it. The last thing I wanted to do was argue or bicker with him "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't say another word after that and just walked through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered absentmindedly on the doorknob before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. Don't even ask why I had it on in the first place. I grabbed my suitcase, which I had already packed, and headed out of the house. The wind outside felt different afterward, like a heavy burden was being lifted off my shoulders for the first time in a very long while. The feeling of the night breeze blowing through the strands of my hair was immaculate. Grabbing my phone from my purse and swiping quickly across the screen, I put the phone to my ear, hearing it ring. "I am divorcing. Come pick me up." Chapter 2 SYDNEY'S POV 002 The soft wind of the night continued to whip my hair to and fro while I stood outside with my suitcase next to me. I was finally out of that house. Not far ahead on the street, I noticed headlights flashing brightly in my direction, and a faint smile crept onto my lips because I recognized who it was instantly. The flamboyant red sports car pulled up right in front of where I stood, and an even more flamboyant woman sat in the driver's seat, twiddling her fingers at me as she rolled down the window. It was Grace. Grace was not only my best friend, but also my business partner. We had been inseparable since our college days. Because we both shared a passion for fashion, we decided to turn our dreams into reality by co-founding Luxe Vogue, a fashion-forward online shopping site that quickly became a favorite among young trendsetters. Grace had a keen eye for design, so she took charge of designing stunning clothing collections, while I focused on designing jewelry at our equally jointly owned studio, Atelier. Atelier was a high-end fashion studio catering to an elite clientele. Our business acumen and creative vision had catapulted us into the world of high-ranking millionaires. I knew right when I saw that grin on her lips that she was going to tease me next. Playful banter between us was as natural as breathing. I stepped into the passenger seat of Grace's car, sighed, and immediately clicked my seatbelt in. "Finally willing to leave that ba**ard and return to work?" Grace quipped with a mischievous grin. "I really don't understand why you would waste three years of your life being a housewife, taking care of an as**ole who doesn't love you at all." I rolled my eyes. "Because I was blind, but now I can see. Heard of that song?" Grace chuckled, starting the car. "Well, I'm glad your eyes are wide open now. We've got a whole lot to run, and we can't have you distracted by some guy who doesn't appreciate you." "You know, Sydney, I have to say this again: that whole 'married' thing... with that guy? I hated it on you!" She glanced briefly at the gate of Mark's house. "Gosh, I've been dying to say that." I chuckled, resting my elbow tiredly on the car door. "Oh please." From the start, Grace had always hated my marriage to Mark. She had tried--both indirectly and directly--to show her disapproval. Sometimes openly, other times more subtly, like hesitating before congratulating me on another anniversary or changing the subject whenever I mentioned something about my marriage. I was glad we could finally talk and make jokes about it freely. "I mean, what was with all those frumpy dresses and sensible shoes? Eww!" "Grace!" I laughed again. "Mr. Wrong really had an influence on your wardrobe? I've never seen you wear so much beige in my life. And the day I saw you in flats with a co**tail dress--I swear, I nearly died." I burst out laughing again, shaking my head. "Oh, come on. You know I was just trying to fit the 'perfect wife' image. Never again." "Thank goodness you're out of that hole." I still found her teasing funny, so I playfully swatted at Grace. "Hey, but I thought I looked pretty good in those dresses, though!" "Huhn?" Grace raised her upper lip in mock disgust. "Maybe to a blind man." This reminded me of a function I had attended with Mark, wearing a dress I'd thought was elegant, which he later called too revealing and pr**iscuous for a wife. Not only did his in**lts hurt, but what hurt even more was the public humiliation when others witnessed it. The incident eventually reached my parents, leading to further embarrassment. I think that's when my wardrobe started to change. I had been trying to please everyone, especially Mark and my parents. What a f**l I'd been. I sighed. "Goodness. I missed us." Grace nodded. "Yeah, me too," she said, stepping on the gas pedal. The engine roared to life as she dashed onto the road and merged into the flow of traffic. "So, where are we headed now?" "To the airport, of course. I've got a sudden urge for a short trip." "Wow, I thought you'd at least come over to my place for the night or something," Grace remarked. I shrugged. "Just want to get away for a bit." Grace leaned back in her seat, resting a hand on the car door while the other stayed on the steering wheel. "Well, you need it anyway." "That reminds me," Grace said, "a company is interested in buying the website. And I kid you not, it's an insane offer. I'm te**ted." "I'm really not in the mood for work right now. We'll talk about that when I return," I said, glancing at Grace. She nodded understandingly. "Totally get it." I really needed this trip, to clear my mind for a bit, to revel in my freedom from Mark and the suffocating routine I had fallen into. I knew my parents were going to be mad; they always were when I tried to break free from their demanding decisions. But I couldn't have cared less about whatever was to come. The thought of finally leaving everything behind was liberating. Grace pulled into the airport. As the car came to a stop, I unclicked my seatbelt and reached for my handbag, eagerly taking out my phone. I dialed a number and held the phone to my ear. "I'm here now. Where are you?" I spoke first. "Alright, alright," I added as the receiver responded before ending the call. Grace looked at me curiously. "Who was that?" she asked. "You'll see," I grinned cryptically. Grace gave me a suspicious look but didn't probe further. While we waited in the car, a man in a sharp suit approached, carrying a briefcase. Recognizing him immediately, I told Grace, "Wait here," before getting out to meet him. "Good evening," he greeted me professionally, and I returned the pleasantries with a nod. He was the lawyer I had called earlier to help draft the divorce papers. The lawyer opened his briefcase and took out an envelope containing the papers. While he did, I glanced back at the car and saw Grace watching curiously. "Here," he handed me the papers. I glanced through them one by one, feeling an overwhelming sense of finality wash over me. "Do you need more time to review them?" the man asked. I shook my head, determined. "No, where do I sign?" He pointed to various places in the documents. "Here, here," flipping through them, "over here and here." Then, he handed me a pen. I signed every page and spot that required my signature, finally handing the papers and pen back to him. "I'll have Mr. Torres receive a copy as well and will send yours too," he said, placing the papers back in his briefcase. "You can send them to my email." "Will do," he said. I nodded. "Thanks," shaking his hand. "It's my job," he replied with a smile. As I got back into the car and shut the door behind me, I let out a heavy sigh. It felt warmer in the car compared to outside. Grace looked at me, immediately asking, "So, are you going to k**l my curiosity now?" I looked at her and replied, "That was the lawyer. I signed the divorce papers." Grace's eyes widened, and she let out a dramatic scream. "Are you crazy? You're actually giving up asking him for alimony? He's a billionaire; you could get a hundred million in alimony!" I chuckled bitterly. "It doesn't matter. I just want to divorce him as soon as possible! I'm a millionaire on my own; I don't need him to raise my value." Grace shook her head. "But still, a hundred million..." She looked so pained that I almost chuckled. I shrugged. "Let him keep his money. We're bigger than that anyway. I just want to move on with my life." "Aww, girl. I totally get it." Grace reached out and squeezed my hand. "I'm here for you, no matter what." "And that's all that matters to me." I smiled and squeezed her hand in return. We must have looked like two typical best friends in some kind of soap opera for a moment. Grace snapped us out of our little emotional moment. "Alright, let's get your things," she said, getting out of the car to help me pull my suitcase from the backseat and raise the handle tall. "Tell all the eligible bachelors in town, the Queen is back!" I announced loudly into the wind. "Woo-hoo! The Queen is back, everyone!" Grace hooted after me. Chapter 3 MARK'S POV 003 I pulled into the driveway, exhausted. Another long day of both work and fun had left me drained, and all I wanted was to unwind and relax. I stepped out of the car and loosened my tie, eager to get inside and finally relax. When I entered the house, I saw Sydney sitting there, staring at me with her usual blank look. I barely spared her a glance while heading straight for my study. "I want a divorce," Sydney said before I could even reach the sanctuary of my study. Divorce? Ridiculous was the first word that came to my mind, and ridiculous it was indeed. The family business of Sydney's parents had been lent to the GT Group, which I owned. This was a contract that benefited both parties in every sense of the word. Sydney was only a woman I'd married, who depended on her parents and me for survival. Divorce, huh? It was obviously her new way of crying for attention, like she was fond of doing. It used to be the pitiful demeanor she carried around her, which was enough to convince an outsider that she was being treated wrongly, even though that had never been the case. We'd been keeping up the married couple façade for three years already. Now she was pulling a new stunt, which I wasn't going to fall for. The next morning, I entered the dining room to have breakfast before leaving, but all I was met with was an empty table. A frown creased my brow as I asked one of the workers I was able to find lingering around. "Where is she? And where's my food?" "I've not seen her this morning, sir," the worker replied. Later on, I got a report from eyes who'd happened to see her leaving with her suitcase last night. Most of her things were also gone from her room. Oh. This perhaps had to do with the divorce thing she brought up. Did she expect me to fall for it or talk to her about it? I shrugged off the thought, grabbed my suitcase and jacket, and headed out. She had probably just gone to her parents' house. Where else could she go? They would surely knock some sense into her head about how to be a good wife and send her back. My eyes darted up from the files in front of me when my assistant entered the office. Without a word, he placed a file on the table in front of me with a curt bow. "I think you need to see this, sir," he said before stepping back. I took off my glasses and pulled the file closer, flipping it open to find the emboldened words "Divorce Proceedings." I frowned, continuing to scan the papers. She had already signed them. "Thank you, you may leave," I said to my assistant, who bowed again before exiting the room. Sydney had taken the first step in what seemed like a smart game to her, but to me, it was nonsense. Did she think I had the time for all this? GT Group was not only my pride and joy, but also proof of my years of hard work and dedication. It was a large private equity firm based in Europe that specialized in investing in a variety of sectors like consumer goods, services, fashion, medical, and technology. With over 250 investment projects under our belt, we were a force to be reckoned with in the business world. It was our third round of fundraising. We needed to secure a staggering $5 billion from investors worldwide. This was a critical moment for my firm, and the next month was going to be a whirlwind of activities. With me having to crisscross the globe and meet with potential investors from New York to Tokyo, London to Hong Kong. The next six months for me were packed with meetings, presentations, and negotiations. And here someone was, bringing some useless papers to my table. I angrily gathered up the papers and marched over to the shredder in the corner of my office, feeding them into the shredder and watching the machine devour every single one of them, before settling back down in my seat to resume what was a hundred times more important. It had been three long months of hectic fundraising for GT Group. I finally returned home to find that Sydney still wasn't there. My nose was hit with a gust of stuffiness when I pushed the door to her bedroom open, and the way everything was completely covered in dust, I could tell that it had been left unoccupied for a long time. She hadn't returned yet? I angrily stormed out, picked up my phone, and dialed her number. "Sorry, the number you're trying to call is no longer in use," came the automated voice through the speaker. I dialed again. "Sorry, the number you're trying to--" I cut the call with a grit of my teeth. "Find her immediately," I turned to my assistant. "Get in touch with her parents, whatever you need to do." The man bowed hurriedly and scurried off, while I retreated to my room, both tired and exhausted. She'd successfully added more fuel to my already foul mood. I went into the shower, turned on the tap, let a torrent of cold water rain over my head, and wished all that iciness could take away all the fatigue and frustration I felt. Eventually, my assistant returned with the news that Sydney's parents were also unaware of her whereabouts and hadn't heard from her for a long time. Despite it all, I still felt that Sydney's disappearance was part of her elaborate scheme to get to me, and it did seem to be working because it seriously got on my nerves. I could only really take care of this after the next three months when I returned from my second trip. Before boarding the plane, I gave strict instructions to my assistant, "Find her before I return. If you fail, you'll lose your job." My assistant nodded at my words and hurried to assist with my suitcase. I paused and turned my head back because something on the table in the corner caught my eye. When I moved closer to see, it was the wedding ring--the ring that was initially meant for Bella but ended up on Sydney's finger. The ring had lost all significance to me since that day three years ago, which was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life. My bride was not Bella, the woman I loved, but Sydney, her sister. I felt like such a f**l back then, standing in front of the congregation like nothing was wrong. I just had to keep the show going, and I made it very clear to Sydney that I wasn't going to accept her as my wife. She could keep the title for all she cared. As soon as I'd stepped down from the altar and worn the last round of fake smiles at the guests and photographers at every corner, I got into my car and pulled the damned ring off my finger. In fact, I couldn't remember where I'd kept it after that day. I probably flung it off in annoyance. But Sydney had decided to wear hers. Now that I saw that ring lying there in its own full circle of dust, I couldn't help thinking maybe Sydney was serious about the divorce after all. My jaw clenched briefly again before I turned from that table, leaving the useless relic there and walking out the door. I still had a lot more work to do than occupy myself with this drama. I arrived at the airport, immediately pulling on my sunglasses before stepping out of the car. I was quite popular, and a couple of people would often approach me, stare, or gawk because they recognized me from television or some other outlet. "I'm sorry, are you so-and-so?" That kind of thing. The glasses were a minimal disguise, but they still did the job to an extent, with me adding some bizarre mysteriousness to my outfit. Sometimes I'd nod with a smile and try to keep the interactions brief. I was particularly not in the mood today. I headed toward the boarding gate through the bustling airport crowd, checking my wristwatch at the same time, when a woman brushed past me. The trail of her perfume danced over my face and slowly into my nose. The citrus and flowery scent was insanely familiar. It almost made me feel nostalgic in a strange kind of way. I stopped slowly in my tracks. I tried to fight the urge, but I couldn't resist turning my head. Her figure was receding into the distance behind me, and I could not tell if she was someone I knew. I didn't recall ever seeing that face before. Chapter 4 SYDNEY'S POV 004 As soon as I returned to the airport, I already saw Grace waving eagerly at me from the other side. Enthusiastic smiles and grins curled up my lips the closer I got to her. My short trip had come to an end, and I might say those had been the happiest three months of my life in a very long time. I wheeled my suitcase faster behind me and rushed, also waving back at Grace as I hurried to meet her where she was standing. At first, I hadn't noticed, but someone familiar walked quickly past me. I couldn't help but stop and turn; I could swear I recognized that back. No one could tell me otherwise--it had to be Mark. It was him. I was right, I confirmed to myself when I actually stopped and turned back to look at the person. It was Mark. I couldn't have missed it, walking with those fast strides of his as usual. He probably didn't see me? Or maybe he didn't recognize me again? I'd been gone for just three months, but if that was enough time for him not to know who I was from just a glance, then it meant I'd done a fantastic job erasing the woman he used to know from my life. Sure, I wouldn't look like his ex-wife with the way I looked now. My outfit was different from what I used to wear--that style he was familiar with--I had changed my hair; it wasn't in those ugly buns and up-styles anymore. My hair was down in long luscious waves. My face shone elegantly bright with good skin care and some makeup on. A right red body-con dress hugged my curves in all the right places. Altogether, I looked like a better and more beautiful version of the self I left behind as "Mrs. Torres." I chuckled proudly and pushed my sunglasses down from my hair to my face before swinging my head back to the direction I was heading and pulling my suitcase behind me again. By this time, Grace was already walking towards me, so I had to let go of the suitcase and wrap my hands happily around her. "Jeez, girl. I missed you so fr**king much!" she squeaked as she squeezed me. "Me too!" I cooed, sighing. We disengaged and I brushed off some strands from my face. "I almost didn't want to return," I added. "You must be joking," Grace jokingly frowned, "so you meant to not return today?" "The plain truth," I shrugged with a giggle. "Then I probably would've had to come drag you back myself," Grace said, smiling. She leaned down to pull my suitcase for me. "Come on, let's go." We both walked to Grace's car where it was parked. It was a different car from the one she'd dropped me off with last time--a black jeep. "You got another car?" I asked on our way to it. "Yeah," she answered gladly like she'd been waiting for me to ask. "Glorious, isn't it?" she added. "It sure is glorious," I commented. "Should probably get a new one too," I added. "F**k, what do you mean probably? You're definitely getting a new one." I glanced at her and laughed a little incredulously, "Gosh, you're so dramatic." "We should go tomorrow. It's almost the weekend anyway." I merely nodded to her suggestion and waited for her to click the car remote before settling into the car. Then she came in after she'd put my suitcase in the back. We'd driven quite some distance from the airport entrance when I finally broke the news to Grace, though in the most casual way, "I saw you-know-who on my way here." She spared me a glance from the steering wheel. "Huh? Who?" "Mark." "Really, when was that?" She didn't sound too surprised--maybe because she was trying to swerve onto the highway. "We practically brushed past each other while I was busy waving at you?" The tires finally settled perfectly on the road, now practically gliding. I could see the funny expression on her face. "So he didn't recognize you?" She chuckled. "Man, why am I so happy to hear that?" Her voice rose again until she began laughing so heartily I had no choice but to join in. "You needed to see how much I swelled when I noticed, too. I must have been looking too good to be true." After the long drive of talks and laughs, we finally drove up the winding road to our shared villa. Grace pulled up to the entrance and turned to me. "I'll just drop you off here, darling," she said. "Going somewhere?" I asked her and she nodded. "Yeah, just remembered I was invited to this party. Not the most enthusiastic about it, but I just have to attend for a few minutes at least." "Oh," I nodded, unclicking my seatbelt. "Then I'll be back to hear you tell me every single detail about your trip!" she piped as I got out of the car. "You bet!" I smiled, shutting the door behind me and pulling out my suitcase before I watched her turn the car back in the direction we'd just come from. With a sigh, I gazed up at the imposing structure of our home. It was a stunning residence halfway up a mountain overlooking the sea--a playground for the wealthy elite of the city. It felt so good to be back home. I'd missed everything so much. Even the fresh, exotic smell in the air was the perfect spice to everything. I climbed the stairs to our house. The cool evening air brushed against my skin as I reached for the doorknob, pushing the front door open with a soft click before stepping inside. But before I could fully immerse myself in the familiarity of everything I'd returned to, a shot of fear danced sharply through my veins. I felt it before I saw it--that cold, hard object pressed against my waist from behind. I froze in fear, feeling the harsh thumping of my heartbeat everywhere in my body. I knew instantly what that thing at my side was, even though I couldn't see it. It was more like a gut feeling. "Don't make a sound," he whispered in a low, threatening voice--the man with the g*n behind me. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to run, to scream for help, but I knew that would be a fo**ish move. His presence engulfed me from behind and his breath was hot against my neck. Then the scent of fresh bl**d reached my nostrils, mixing with the fear that had already taken hold. I realized then that the man behind me was injured. That metallic tang of bl**d was in the air. I instinctively raised my hands in surrender as a silent plea for mercy. I knew that any sudden movement could provoke him further, so I stood there with my eyes closed, trying to steady my breathing. I didn't dare look at his face. Seeing the face of a criminal often meant being silenced permanently. I had heard enough stories to know that much. I felt his shadow loom over me. The dark presence sent more shivers down my spine. "Open up," he snarled. I was too scared to even understand what he meant, so I kept my eyes closed. "I said, open your eyes!" he snapped in annoyance. I jolted, now opening my eyes to see his figure outlined in front of me against the dim light filtering through the window. The first thing I saw was his ch**t and the trail of bl**d that marred the fabric of his shirt. Then my eyes traveled upward to look at his face for the first time. Surprisingly, the man was handsome, with chiseled features and dark, piercing eyes. There was an air of authority about him, a confidence that spoke of someone accustomed to being in control. He looked like someone who could easily pass for a member of the mafia. He thrust a wad of fabric into my hands, and as I unfurled it, I saw that it was a bandage. I didn't need to be told what he wanted me to do next. I gathered my resolve with trembling hands. He pulled off his jacket, then his shirt. Now I saw the wound on his torso. It was a gu**hot wound; the skin around it was raw and inflamed. It looked like he had already removed the bu**et himself, but the bl**ding had not stopped. "S--sit," I stammered. He complied and sat down heavily on a nearby chair. I took a deep breath. "Do... do I get the first aid kit?" I asked. "Just do it," he grunted in pain as he showed me the bandage. I sat by him and began to dress his wound. If only someone had seen how terribly my hands trembled as I worked. He grunted in discomfort and grimaced as I moved, but he did not protest, until I completely tied the bandages as tightly as I dared. The loud chime of the doorbell split through the silence. I glanced at the man's face. He didn't do much but quickly moved to hide. I took this as a cue to answer the door, although I was sure he was probably still nearby and ready to blast my head off if I did anything st**id. I opened the door cautiously. Mark was standing there. He must have recognized me at the airport after all and followed me here. Mark grabbed my hand. "Come home with me!" he urged. I shook off his hand. "Didn't you receive the divorce agreement?" I asked pointedly. ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &2&