Divorcing The Ruthless Billionaire Husband

penthouse. Averie Fletcher made one last adjustment to the silver candlestick, i

d three years since she ha

at the clock on the wall. 8:30 p.m. He was an hour and a half lat

h, a jarring buzz in the quiet room. Her stoma

number, and it made the air leave

zed. It was just a string of

notification. A photo attached. Every instinct screamed at her not to o

he co

tapped the screen. The ima

intimately on the chest of an expensive, custom-tailored suit. Averie's he

It was a massive sapphire, surrounded by diamonds, an heirloom she had only ever seen in old photographs of Jare

blur of sterile whi

y in the front do

bag from a luxury brand dangling from his fingers. He saw her, then his eyes took in the elaborate

, I'm

l weight in her chest, making it impossible to breathe, let alone

shed, replaced by a flash of annoyance. Not guilt. Not su

s voice sharp. Then he seemed to

with a rage so deep it felt like it was freezing her from the inside

tone slicing through the tense silence. The name on h

at Averie, his expression harden

She lunged forward, her hand reaching for h

ved he

e edge of the dining cart, the impact rattling a crystal vase. Red roses, the ones she'd bought this

ation from the cold man who had just pushed her. It was low and gentl

ay. Don't be scar

e mess of flowers and her, standing pale and trembling by the ruin

gging it on as he headed for the

shaking but loud enough to make him paus

to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were devoid of any emotion

ck, opened the do