Chapter 7. Not Divorced Yet
1218 Words
Camila smiled with satisfaction, her body shifting gently as she curled closer to William. She wrapped her arms around him without hesitation, lifting her gaze with eyes full of admiration.
“I knew it… You can’t live without me. You’ll never leave me.”
William was the most powerful man in San Francisco. Wealthy, charismatic, and commanding. He was everything Camila had ever fantasized about in a man. To her, William was more than human. He was like a god walking among them.
Back then, Camila chose not to waste her time nursing a man who couldn’t even open his eyes. To this day, she still didn’t understand how he recovered when the doctors had said there was barely any hope. Was it a miracle? Or… was Grace some kind of lucky charm?
But that didn’t matter. What mattered now was that William was back—with her. Because he loved her. Only her. He could never let her go.
William stared at her in silence. His gaze was sharp, unreadable.
“Three years ago, you left. Now you’re back, thinking I’m still the same guy?”
Camila didn’t answer. The past wasn’t supposed to come up. Her heart was pounding, but she pulled herself together. A sly smile spread across her face.
“Tell me… did you sleep with Grace?”
William looked down, voice low and heavy. “Who else was I supposed to sleep with? You?”
She already knew the answer. William had never touched her, not even after she came back. But questions like that always triggered something inside Camila. A mix of desire and obsession that was hard to explain. William was so strong, so cold, so unreachable. That’s what made him addictive. His darkness was tempting. And Camila wanted him… in a way that bordered on insane.
She rolled over, straddled him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips hovered just above his.
“Do you want me, William?”
Up front, Paul—the driver and William’s assistant—quietly raised the divider.
William stayed silent. His eyes didn’t soften.
Camila’s red dress slipped up, revealing her pale legs under the soft car light. The tip of her foot slid up William’s thigh, slowly tracing the fabric of his pants.
It was bold, seductive. She tightened her grip, pressing her hips down on him.
“Say it. You want me, don’t you?”
William understood exactly what she meant. If he said yes… Camila would be completely his. But right at that moment, a memory flashed through his mind. Grace.
Back at the bar. That short dress. Those long legs. That voice—sweet and sharp all at once. She had rested her hand on his thigh, her fingers brushing gently across his skin.
“So, between my legs and Camila’s… which do you like better?”
Her voice still echoed in his head.
How did Grace get that hot? Wasn’t she supposed to be the gentle, innocent type? Would she show her body to another man the way she did to him?
William pulled back. His hand grabbed Camila’s wrist and moved her away from his neck.
“I’m still married,” he said.
Camila raised an eyebrow. “So?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I’m not cheating on my wife.”
“But you two signed the divorce papers, didn’t you?”
“She did. I didn’t. The process isn’t done yet. And I’m not gonna stain my name with an affair.”
Camila froze. The air in the car went still. Just like that, William shut the whole thing down.
She slowly moved off him and sat back down in her seat. Her expression soured. She felt insulted. Men were supposed to chase her, not the other way around. She wasn’t the type who got rejected.
She folded her arms and muttered coldly, “Fine. So when are you getting divorced?”
William didn’t answer right away. His eyes turned toward the window. He knew Grace wanted out. And he had planned to let her go.
His voice was flat. Distant. “Soon.”
* * *
Somewhere else.
Clara and Grace got back to their apartment in SoMa. Grace flopped down on the bed, burying her face in a pillow. The night had been wild—freedom, risk, distraction. But now, it was time to take control again.
She pulled out her phone and opened w******p.
Grace had two numbers.
For the past three years, she’d only used the one under the name “Madame Donovan Grace.”
But today, she ditched that number for good. The new one was officially active.
The internet connection lagged a bit, and once the phone turned on—finally charged again—the screen exploded with notifications.
The group chat “Beloved Family” was going nuts.
Aaron: “Grace finally got divorced!”
Jake: “Welcome back, Grace!”
Liam: “Hugs from your hottest brother!”
Virtual confetti and dancing GIFs filled the screen.
Aaron: “Three years ago, you fell in love and ran off to chase romance… So, how’s married life treating you?”
Grace: “Not fun.”
Jake: “So, did you get your heart broken?”
Liam: “Thought you could handle everything. But sounds like you met your match, huh?”
Aaron: “Alright, enough roasting. Still… three years of marriage had to be one hell of a life experience. Sorry, but I gotta laugh for a sec.”
Grace: “…”
For a moment, she seriously considered kicking all of them out of the group.
Instead, she did one small thing: changed the group name.
From “Adorable Family” to “Unbearable Family.”
Finally, Liam typed something a little more sincere.
Liam: “But really, it’s okay. That’s just a chapter in your life. What matters is you’re back in the real world now. You’ve got surgery tomorrow morning. Complicated heart case at Central Hospital. I already set the schedule.”
Grace replied with one word: “OK.”
After leaving the chat, she saw another notification.
It was from William.
Grace blinked.
For three years, she had messaged him every single day using her old number, and he never once replied.
Now, suddenly, when everything was over, he showed up—as if they were just casual friends.
Ironic. The man hadn’t even looked at her properly before.
Now? Too late.
Her finger tapped the screen.
* * *
Donovan Group HQ stood tall in the heart of San Francisco, staring down at the city with an almost godlike arrogance. At night, its windows glowed like stars, making it feel like power never slept.
After sending Camila off, William returned to the top floor. He sat in his black leather chair, perfectly molded to his back, flipping through a stack of financial documents. His signature moved quickly—steady, sure, without hesitation.
Ding.
A w******p notification cut through the silence.
He picked up the phone and checked the screen.
The woman with the G initial had replied.
As he read the message, his whole body froze.
A few seconds passed before the corner of his mouth lifted.
It wasn’t a happy smile.
It was cold. Bitter.
A low laugh filled the empty room.
- Writer
