Divorce from my husband after he drowned my parents

Divorce from my husband after he drowned my parents

Daniel

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I was trapped in a cold, business - like marriage with Leonard Merrick. He loved Beatrice Harrington, and I endured years of neglect and heartbreak. After he drowned my parents, I was reborn and decided to divorce him. In Velmora, I met Cassian Vexley, who treated me with kindness and respect. When Leonard discovered my new life, he was consumed by jealousy, but I had moved on.

Chapter 1 Chapter 1

The seventh anniversary kiss burned like acid on my lips.

Before I could recoil, he gripped my jaw, his wedding band digging into my skin. "1000cc, now."​

Chandelier shards rained light over the sterile chaos.

Nurses strapped me to the sofa as he barked orders into his phone.

His silhouette, once my sanctuary, now loomed like a guillotine.​

"Transplant team. State-of-the-art." His voice dripped ice.

"She's donor."​

Needles glinted in the lamplight.

I gasped as cold metal touched my arm-and time folded in on itself. T

I dug my nails into my palm. Blood welled, confirming the impossible.

This wasn't déjà vu.

I'd lived this nightmare before.

And this time, I wouldn't end up a nameless body in a biohazard bag.

The moment the needle pierced my skin, I was hurled back seven years.​

He was the perfect heir of the Merrick family-calm, restrained, always putting interests first.

And I was the only one who dared to chase him openly.

While other heiresses could only admire him secretly, I followed him everywhere. On the day he was to choose a partner for a political marriage, I personally offered a billion-dollar group as my dowry.

The wedding bells faded into a death knell.

Our mansion echoed with the sound of separate bedroom doors locking.

He treated me like a porcelain doll on a shelf-polite smiles, empty conversations, the master suite forever cold.

I counted the nights I spent alone, convincing myself his distant nods were tokens of affection.

After all, wasn't sharing the same roof enough?​

Then Beatrice Harrington walked into our lives like a hurricane.

A slip of a girl, her eyes wide and innocent, but her presence shattered the fragile peace I'd built.

Leonard's armor cracked at the sight of her.

He hovered over her like a shadow.​

Rumors swirled faster than I could blink.

"Mr. Merrick canceled a billion-dollar deal just because she said she couldn't sleep."

While I'd been waiting years for a single tender look, he'd upended empires for her.

The man who'd never shared a bed with me would burn the world to keep her warm.

"She likes the ocean," they said, "so he carved out a Maldivian paradise, a private island carpeted in her beloved bluebells-a sea of sapphire blooms for his precious Beatrice."

Another rumor burned hotter than the sun: "He chartered a private jet, hurtling through the night sky to Iceland, all because of her fleeting desire to witness the Northern Lights."​

In a blind rage, I stormed the Merrick Group, heels clicking like the ticking of a time bomb. The polished floors echoed my anger as I marched past startled employees, my presence a tempestuous force. I would confront the man who'd given the world to another while leaving me with nothing but crumbs of his attention, and this time, there would be no more silence, no more pretending.

I clung to the last shred of hope, convinced that the man I'd loved for so long would never truly abandon me.

But Leonard Merrick was a force of nature, and when the family tried to bar Beatrice from his world, he razed bridges with cold efficiency.​

As I stubbornly refused the divorce papers, his retaliation was swift and merciless.

I found myself cornered in our once-lovely mansion. This time, he dragged me to the indoor pool, the water eerily calm and blue.​

"Sign it, or drown your parents."

His voice was as frigid as the water that closed over my parents' head.

They thrashed, lungs burning, hands scrabbling at their iron grip.

The darkness claimed me seeing my parents drowning by him in front of my eyes.

Now, reborn and trembling, the memory of that icy embrace and the taste of chlorine still haunted my every breath.

I remembered that in my previous life, when he kissed me for the first time, I was overjoyed.

Even when he asked to draw my blood right after, I didn't hesitate.

Only later did I learn-that blood was for Beatrice Harrington.

She had a minor injury, and the doctor said 200cc was enough. But he treated it like a crisis, drawing 1000cc from me to stockpile blood for her.

He loved her-so much that I knew nothing of it.

This life, when the doctor finished drawing blood, he took the bag and left without looking back. The needle in my arm still throbbed faintly with pain, and I couldn't stop trembling.

The suffocating memory made me shudder, especially the final "beep-beep" countdown of the bomb.

"Ma'am?!"

The servant's startled cry rang in my ears.

Only then did I realize my vision had gone black, and my body was collapsing forward uncontrollably.

The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was the servant's panicked voice:

"Sir! Madam has fainted!"

He stopped, but didn't turn around-only tossed out one sentence:

"Take care of her."

Then came the sound of the door closing.

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I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "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!" The last thing I was going 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 even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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