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Final Goodbye To My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 835    |    Released on: Today at 10:34

rs eased almost imperceptibly. He pulled his arm from Claire's

limp and cold, as if sh

ining its usual cool composure. It was softer,

isapproval, brightened instantly. She moved

dear, pleas

d perfection. She took in the scene-the tense standoff, the discarded clipboard, and Claire, still perched on the edge of the examination table

nt. She reached up and gently smoothed the frown lines between

suddenly, I thought something terrible had occurred." A delicate diam

allowed it. That small act of acceptance

the narrative. "We were just getting Claire a routine chec

dn't reach her eyes. "Oh, is this a friend of yours, Bishop?" S

afterthought, "I was just next door for a gynecological

conference. The

laire of her name, her status, her very identity. It left her

uth as if to correct her, but Janae had

ncern. She gently took his hand-the one he'd slammed the clipboar

ory and effortless intimacy. Eleanor, beaming at them like a proud mother. And

t like

She grabbed her trench coat from the chair where she'd left it and wrap

r voice low and steady. "I'm feeling m

ed to be released from the f

n-law. "Mother, I'm not feeli

ith Janae. She waved a dismissive hand in

d towards the door. Her back was straight, her

oorknob, she heard Janae'

, Bishop. I made reservati

or his answer. She d

kening until she was almost running down the corridor,

The chill was already deep inside her. She stood on the sidewalk, the

could

h expensive furniture and unspoken rules. Her old apartment, the one she'd had befor

Utterly and co

to pull her under, a black sedan sl

rear wind

rp angles and shadows,

ve to. His eyes, cold and com

n the

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Final Goodbye To My Billionaire Husband
Final Goodbye To My Billionaire Husband
“For three years, I was the secret wife of Bishop Reynolds, living like a ghost in a loveless marriage to fulfill my dying father's wish. Then, his true love, Janae Rose, came back to New York. The moment she returned, my mother-in-law dragged me to a clinic for an invasive fertility check, determined to expose my "barrenness." When Bishop burst into the room, I thought he had come to save me. Instead, he looked at my trembling, humiliated body with cold accusation, his eyes only softening when Janae appeared at the door. Later that night, trying to hide from them at a restaurant, a waiter accidentally spilled a tureen of scalding soup all over my back. Bishop carried me into his car to treat my severe burns, but halfway to the hospital, Janae called, crying about a broken lock at her apartment. Without a second thought, he ordered the driver to turn around, leaving me alone on the rainy street with my agonizing wounds. Standing in the freezing downpour, the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow chasm in my chest. I finally understood that no matter how much I bled for him, I would only ever be an ugly obstacle in their perfect love story. Returning to our empty mansion, I pulled out our marriage contract from the deepest drawer. The next morning, facing his furious family who demanded an explanation for his scandalous photos with Janae, I smiled calmly. "Please don't be angry with Bishop. It was my idea to keep our marriage private." As they stared at me in shock, I sent a text to my best friend. "I'm ready. Give me the name of that divorce lawyer."”