Reborn To Divorce My Billionaire Husband

t suite at the opposite end of the penthouse, the one reserved for visitors they never had. She closed t

with the pale, watery light of a post-sto

mple silk robe. A cup of black coffee sat untouched in front of her. She stared ou

suit. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower. He paused when he saw the clo

terialized silently with his usual breakfast: two poached eggs, avocado toast, and a copy of

e the quiet rustle of Kellan turning a p

irst to brea

measured. He didn't look up from his paper. He sliced into a poach

onsumed by the preparations for a major tech acquisition, working late, more distant t

aucer. The delicate clink of porcelain against

doration and hurt that had once filled her eyes when she loo

divorce, Kell

they landed in the center

scraped against the ceramic plate, a high-pitched,

orts, were now fixed on her. They were sharp and piercing, like a hawk spot

ay?" he asked, his v

ulled out a few sheets of paper and, with a flick of her wrist, sent them sliding down the smooth glass

olded title at the top of the first page: DRAFT PR

to her face, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine uncertainty c

en napkin and dabbed at his lips with a slow, deliberate

you have some third-rate ambulance chaser fro

ven. "I'm sure your army of lawyers will have their own

ble, engulfing her. He walked around the table until he was standing behind her chair. He pl

word a low, distinct threat. "The Masons

orce, Evangeline, and you lose everything. The Shaw family name won't protect you. You

turn to look at him. She simply s

are," she

one thing he hadn't expected. It was a blow to his ego more powerful than any shouting match.

he table. The sound of tearing paper was violent in the quiet room. He ripped the agreem

jerky. "Stay home. Think about what

rtment. The heavy front door slammed shu

hed floor. A slow, determined smile spread across her face. He though