Loving the Billionaire again

The divorce papers came in a neat, cream envelope, the kind that once carried anniversary cards and whispered promises. Grace stared at them on the hotel bed, her heart as still as the room around her. she had rehearsed this moment in her mind, promising herself that once the ink dried, the ache would stop. But the ache only deepened. The signature at the bottom of the page, Grace Thompson-Howard, looked foreign, as though it belonged to a woman she had once been but could no longer recognize. Outside the wide window, the city was alive, cars weaving through evening traffic, people clutching briefcases and dreams. But in Grace’s chest, silence bloomed like winter frost. She had thought that by leaving, by ending what once felt eternal, she would reclaim herself. Instead, she felt like a ghost watching her own life unravel. *** Two weeks earlier, she had still believed in surprises. It had been a bright afternoon when Grace stepped into Howard & Co., a global real estate and luxury development firm. The towering glass building her husband, Andrew Howard, ruled with quiet authority. She had gone there with a smile and a plan to speak with his assistant about arranging a small congratulatory party for Andrew’s soon-to-be-sealed international deal. A celebration, she thought, to remind him of home, of her, of them. The staff greeted her warmly she was, after all, the CEO’s wife, the woman who once lit up every charity gala and stood proudly at his side. Her heels echoed softly against the marble floor as she made her way toward his office, nostalgia wrapping around her like perfume. She hadn’t been there for sometime now,not since he left for his three-week business trip to Singapore. She told herself she only wanted to check if his workspace needed decorating for the surprise, but the truth was simpler, she missed him. Andrew’s office was immaculate, every detail a reflection of his precision. His chair was pushed in perfectly, the desk tidy except for a few scattered papers and an open planner. Grace ran her fingers over the smooth mahogany, a fond smile curving her lips. He’ll love this party, she thought. He deserves to come home to warmth, to laughter. And then, a sound. A faint beep. At first, she ignored it, assuming it was one of his many electronics, but it came again, soft and persistent. Her gaze swept the room. The sound was coming from the desk. She crouched, pulling open drawers one by one until she reached the bottom one and there, beneath an old award plaque, a phone blinked faintly. Grace hesitated. Andrew had two phones, his personal and his business line. This one was neither. Her breath caught. The phone was hidden. She unlocked it easily and no password stood between them. Two unread messages glowed on the screen. Both from a name she didn’t recognize. Stacey. “I can’t wait for you to return, this body is waiting for your arrival.” For a moment, the world stopped. The air thickened, her pulse roared in her ears. Grace’s fingers trembled as she stared at the words. Words soaked in intimacy and betrayal. Her knees weakened, and she sank into his chair, the phone slipping from her grasp onto the floor. The irony was cruel. While she had been planning a surprise party, he had been keeping one of his own. Tears blurred her vision as her heart fractured into quiet, unfixable pieces. That night, she packed her things. By morning, she had filed for divorce. She didn’t wait for explanations or denials. She had seen enough. The betrayal screamed louder than any apology could soothe. When she signed her part of the divorce papers, she made one final, bitter decision. She had the divorce papers delivered to Andrew’s office, to sit on his desk, the same place she had found the hidden phone. Waiting for him is like the cruelest kind of surprise. Two days later, news reached Andrew Thousands of miles away in Singapore, Andrew Howard sat in a boardroom when his assistant delivered the call that would change everything. His wife had filed for divorce. His mind blanked the deal, the investors, the entire empire faded into background noise. He rose abruptly, ignoring protests, and booked the next flight home. He couldn’t wait to tell Grace, to clear his name, to hold her and erase the misunderstanding that was tearing their marriage apart. He never made it home. The rain fell hard that night when his car spun across the highway and collided with a divider. Metal crumpled, glass shattered, and in an instant, the life he knew slipped away. Grace arrived at the hospital hours later, breathless. She was hurt, and at the same time scared, Andrew was indeed the love of her life. She needed to know he was alright, also, she needed to hear him admit it to tell her why. But when she reached the reception, security stopped her. Her name was on a list denied visitors. Confused, she pleaded, until a familiar voice drew her attention. “Grace.” It was James, Andrew’s younger brother, the man who had always treated her like family. But his eyes carried something heavy. “Why can’t I see him?” she demanded. James hesitated, guilt flickering in his gaze. “Andrew gave clear instructions. He doesn't want to see you.” Grace’s lips parted, but no words came. So, that was it. Not only had he betrayed her, he had erased her completely. She turned away before the tears could fall, her heart breaking for the last time. Outside the hospital, the night was cold, the sky bruised with storm clouds. Grace walked until her legs gave way, her soul hollow and her world undone. Somewhere inside that sterile building lay the man she had once loved. When Andrew opened his eyes two days later, he was surrounded by people who wept at the sight of him, strangers whose faces carried sorrow and relief. He tried to speak, but every question only deepened their sadness. “Andrew,” said a man at his bedside. His brother, though he couldn’t recall the name “You’re safe now. You’re going to be fine.” But he wasn’t fine. He didn’t even know who he was.