Divorced Overnight, Chased Forever By My Billionaire Ex

The grand mansion of the Brown family was filled with darkness. Outside, a gentle breeze rustled the tall trees, but inside, the house felt like a big tomb. Charlotte Quinn sat alone on the sofa in the living room. She did not even bother to turn on the lights. The moonlight coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows cast lonely shadows across the polished floor. Charlotte looked down at the wedding ring on her finger. The diamond sparkled under the dim light. She closed her eyes, tightly squeezing them as she counted the days in her head. Thirty days and four long weeks. It had been a full month since her billionaire husband, Henry Brown, had packed his bags and disappeared abroad for a business trip. Thirty days without a single phone call n,ot even a single text message to ask if she was eating well, if she was sleeping, or if she was even alive. Her heart ached with a deep, physical pain. She remembered how things used to be. When they first married, Henry was different. He used to look at her with eyes full of warmth and love. He would hold her hand tightly, kiss her forehead before leaving for work, and whisper sweet promises into her ear. He had loved her with his heart. But then, everything just changed overnight. Charlotte still had no idea what went wrong. Almost out of nowhere, Henry had turned into a different person. The warmth in his eyes died, replaced by a freezing contempt that cut Charlotte to the bone. He started staying out late, sometimes not returning home at all. When he did look at her, his gaze was so cold it made her feel worthless. Yet, because of her deep love for him, she stayed. She trapped herself in this painful relationship, constantly walking on edge, desperately hoping that her warmth would one day melt his icy heart and bring her loving husband back. Suddenly, the sharp, violent ring of her iPhone shattered the silence in the room. Charlotte gasped, her body surprised by the sudden noise. She scrambled to grab the phone from the coffee table. When she saw the caller ID, her breath caught in her throat. Henry. Her hands trembled so much she almost dropped the phone. She quickly swiped the screen and pressed it to her ear, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and desperate hope. "Henry? Oh my god, Henry, you're—" "I am back," Henry’s deep voice cut her off completely. There was literally no emotion in his tone. There was no "I missed you," or "I am sorry for disappearing for a month." His voice was very calm, like a businessman talking to an employee. "Be at the International Airport in exactly one hour to pick me up. Don't be late." "Henry, wait, how was your—" Before she could finish her sentence, a sharp click sounded through the line. The call ended, and the line went dead. Charlotte slowly lowered the phone, staring at the black screen. Any normal woman would have been angry or would have even demanded to know why her husband treated her like a driver after abandoning her for a month. But Charlotte was not in her right senses. She was a woman starving for affection, and this tiny crumb of attention from Henry felt like a grand feast. A rush of desperate happiness suddenly flooded her chest. He called me, she thought, a bright smile breaking across her face for the first time in weeks. He wants me to pick him up! Out of everyone he could have called, he chose me. He still wants me in his life. In that moment of foolish happiness, Charlotte completely forgot her heartbreak. She dashed into the kitchen and turned on the lights. She pulled out fresh, expensive ingredients from the refrigerator. She knew Henry’s favorite gourmet meal by heart—a specific, complicated steak dish with a rich sauce. For the next forty-five minutes, the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of cooking. Charlotte moved quickly, her heart pounding with excitement. She carefully packed the hot food into the thermal food flask, covering it tightly so that it would stay warm for the drive back. Once the food was ready, she ran upstairs to the room. She swept through the room, tidying up any stray items, making sure the bedsheets were perfectly smooth. Then, she hurried into her walk-in closet. Her eyes scanned rows of designer outfits until they landed on a beautiful, elegant blue dress. Henry had complimented her once when she wore a similar color long ago. She quickly changed into the dress, her fingers trembling as she zipped it up. She sat in front of her mirror, brushing out her long hair until it fell in soft, perfect waves over her shoulders. She applied a light layer of makeup, adding a touch of pink lipstick to her When she looked at her reflection, her eyes were no longer dull and sad. They were bright, filled with the hope of a wife eager to welcome her husband home and repair their broken marriage. "He will see how much I care," Charlotte whispered to herself, grabbing her purse and the car keys. "Everything will go back to the way it used to be." She ran down the stairs, loaded the warm food into the back of her luxury car—a car Henry had bought for her back when he still cared- and drove out of the estate. She pressed her foot tightly against the gas pedal, moving through the dark streets and racing toward the airport. She didn't want to be a single second late. When Charlotte arrived at Terminal 1, the airport was in complete chaos. The grand arrivals hall was completely packed, not just with travelers, but with crowds of paparazzi, flashing cameras, and high-society reporters. It wasn't surprising. Henry Brown was the most powerful, influential young billionaire in the city. His movements were always front-page news. Charlotte parked the car and hurried into the terminal. She pushed through the crowded people, ignoring the loud chatter around her. She managed to find a spot near the very front of the VIP arrivals gate. She stood there, holding her purse tightly against her chest, her eyes locked onto the glass sliding doors. Every time the doors opened, her heart skipped a beat. She adjusted her dress, suddenly feeling nervous. Ten minutes passed and then fifteen. Finally, the glass doors slid open once more, nd then A tall, imposing figure stepped through the gateway. It was Henry. He looked devastatingly handsome, wearing a custom-tailored dark suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and well-built stature. His face was a mask of cold arrogance, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with indifference. Charlotte’s heart leaped with joy. A bright smile broke across her face. She took a step forward, raising her hand to wave, ready to call out his name. "Henry! Over—" The words died instantly in her throat, nd the bright smile on Charlotte's face froze, then slowly turned into one of shock. Henry was not walking alone; walking right beside him, completely pressed against his side, was Carla. Carla was Charlotte’s closest, most trusted childhood friend—the woman Charlotte had shared all her secrets with. But Carla wasn't wearing her usual casual clothes. She was dressed in loose maternity wear. Her left hand was resting over a sible, swelling baby bump. And her right hand was wrapped tightly around Henry’s muscular arm. As they walked past the security barrier, Carla looked up at Henry, whispering something in his ear. Henry, the man who had looked at Charlotte with nothing but contempt for months, softened completely. He looked down at Carla with a gentle look of protectiveness—an expression Charlotte had prayed to see directed at her for over a year. The paparazzi went completely wild, the blinding flashes, cameras exploded around them, illuminating the seductive smile plastered across Carla's face. The memory of the warm, home-cooked meal waiting in her car turned into a complete joke. The world around her started to spin. Henry finally stopped walking, his cold eyes sweeping over the crowd until they landed directly on Charlotte. There was no joy in his eyes upon seeing his wife. There was only itation. He walked over to where Charlotte stood, dragging Carla along with him. Carla looked at Charlotte, and for a single second, the innocent look on her face disappeared. A malicious smirk flashed in Carla's eyes, mocking Charlotte’s pain, before she quickly hid it by burying her face into Henry’s shoulder. "You're here," Henry said coldly. He didn't offer his hand to Charlotte. He didn't even look at her dress. He simply reached out and dumped his heavy leather briefcase into Charlotte’s trembling hands. "Henry..." Charlotte’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes tearing up as she looked from him to Carla’s stomach. "What... what is the meaning of this? Why is Carla with you?" Before Henry could answer, Carla spoke up, her voice sounding sweet. "Oh, Charlotte, don't be angry with Henry. Traveling while pregnant is just so difficult, and Henry was so worried about me and the baby. He insisted on taking care of me abroad for the past month. You understand, don't you? After all, we are best friends." Every single word Carla spoke was like a sharp dagger stabbing repeatedly into Charlotte’s heart. He was with her the whole month, Charlotte realized, her mind breaking from the pain. He didn't disappear for work. He disappeared for her. For their baby. Henry frowned deeply, his eyes flashing with anger as he noticed Charlotte staring at Carla with horror. Step by step, he placed his large body directly between Charlotte and Carla, shielding the pregnant woman completely from his wife's gaze. "Stop making a scene in public, Charlotte," Henry hissed, his voice low and full of disgust. "Carla is weak right now. She cannot handle any stress. Take the luggage and go bring it tooo the car around to the VIP exit. Now." Charlotte stood still in the middle of the bustling airport, the heavy briefcase weighing her down as the paparazzi's cameras continued to flash around them. Her husband had returned from a month-long disappearance with her pregnant best friend, and his first command was for his wife to act as their servant.