His Divorcee, His Wife

Prologue The rain hammered against the tall, sleek mansion. Inside nothing moved, as if they were oblivious to the rain splattering outside. He dropped the document in front of her. "Sign it." She kept her eyes fixed on the TV, plucking another grape from the bowl in front of her. "Why?" "Because we're done." That made her pause and her lip twitched. Just enough to sting. She reached beside her, picked up another document, and held it out to him. "No," she said calmly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I'm divorcing you, not the other way round." For the first time, he actually looked at her. And he realized-- This was a mistake. He was never in control. CHAPTER ONE Two Years Later Flashes exploded across the red carpet as he stepped into view. Cameras clicked relentlessly. Voices called his name from every direction. “Brian! Over here!” “Brian!” He smiled—effortless, practiced—lifting a hand in a lazy wave as he walked past the barricade of eager fans. Brian Anderson. Actor. Model. Musician. A man the world couldn’t get enough of. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, he carried himself with quiet confidence, every step measured, every glance controlled. Inside, the grand hall shimmered with wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over polished floors as aristocrats and rising elites mingled, their smiles sharp and calculated. Brian fit right in. “Brian.” A familiar voice cut through the noise. He turned to see a silver-haired man approaching him. “Mr. Denas.” They shook hands. “My, my… still as handsome as ever,” Mr. Denas said with a pleased smile. “You flatter me too much.” “It’s only the truth.” Brian gave a small, polite smile—nothing more. “You know…” Mr. Denas leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Even though you’re divorced…” Brian’s expression didn’t change. “You should consider dating again. Remarrying, even. You’re still young. Still… valuable.” Brian let out a quiet chuckle. “Is that so?” “And if it’s about finding the right woman…” Mr. Denas straightened. “I might have someone in mind.” Of course you do. “Avery,” he called. Brian didn’t need to guess. A woman excused herself from a nearby group and walked toward them. Graceful. Poised. Beautiful. Her long red curls framed her face, soft strands brushing her cheeks as she tucked them behind her ear. Her eyes—warm brown, slightly nervous—met Brian’s for a brief moment before dropping. “Hey, Dad.” She stood beside them. “So, Brian… this is my daughter, Avery.” Brian studied her for a second longer than necessary. Then he smiled. “Can’t deny it—you’re beautiful.” Avery flushed. “Nice to finally meet you,” he added, extending his hand. She took it. “Nice to meet you too.” Her voice was soft. Gentle. Careful. Mr. Denas looked between them, clearly satisfied. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” And just like that, he was gone. Brian turned back to her. “Avery Denas. International model. Heiress to the Denas Group.” She blinked, slightly surprised. “And you,” she said, gathering herself, “Brian Anderson. The most eligible bachelor in New York.” He smirked. “You flatter me.” “I’m just being honest.” He lifted her hand slightly, placing a light kiss on her knuckles. She froze—then smiled, shy but pleased. Across the room, Mr. Denas watched with quiet triumph. — The apartment was silent when Brian returned. Too silent. He loosened his tie, tossing it aside as he sank into the couch, staring at the ceiling. For a brief moment… he waited. For what? He didn’t know. No one came. No one ever did. Avery’s face flashed in his mind. Beautiful. Perfect. And yet— Nothing. Not even a flicker. He exhaled sharply and reached for the remote, turning on the TV. The gala filled the screen. As expected. He was about to switch it off— Until the next segment appeared. And then— He froze. A face. A face he hadn’t seen in two years. A face he had tried to forget. Eva. The room suddenly felt smaller. “…and rising business magnate Eva—” The remote slipped from his hand. His eyes locked onto the screen. She moved with effortless grace, every step controlled, every gesture deliberate. Poised. Alive. Unshaken. And more powerful than ever. Brian didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Because in that moment— He realized something dangerous. He had never really let her go. And then- his eyes narrowed. She wasn't alone. "... who is that?"