Ch. Divorce My H 13 Divorce My H 13

Chapter 13 

I thought coming back to the company would 

feel like coming home. 

It didn’t. 

Instead, it felt like walking into a cold 

boardroom where every stare was a silent 

accusation. The hallways hadn’t changed- 

the paintings were still there, the same scent 

of polished wood and rich leather still 

lingered in the air–but the people? They had. 

They looked at me like I didn’t belong. Like I 

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Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

was the outsider now. 

“She’s been gone too long.” 

“She never really managed anything.” 

“I heard she didn’t even finish that expansion 

project before she left.” 

“Maybe her husband should be here 

nstead.” 

That one hit me. 

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Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

Her husband. 

I almost laughed. 

What husband? 

Jackson was no longer part of my life–and 

never would be again. But it wasn’t just 

gossip. The board made it official in a 

meeting that left me sitting stiff in my chair 

while they questioned my capability. 

One of them–Martinez–leaned forward, all 

smugness wrapped in fake politeness. “We 

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just believe, Miss DeVere, that given your 

absence, it might benefit the company if you 

had a… stabilizing figure at your side. Someone experienced. Perhaps a spouse.” 

I clenched my jaw. “You’re saying I can’t 

handle my own inheritance without a man to 

back me up?” 

A few uncomfortable chuckles. A few guilty 

eyes. 

Martinez didn’t even blink. “It’s about 

confidence–for investors, for stakeholders. 

V 

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You know how these things go.” 

Oh, I knew. 

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They didn’t see me as a leader. They saw me 

as someone who had walked away from the 

company once–and now couldn’t be trusted 

to protect it. 

After the meeting, I drove straight to the 

hospital. 

My father was sitting up, sipping warm tea 

and flipping through a financial magazine like 

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Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

he hadn’t just survived a heart attack last 

month. 

He looked up, smiled gently. “How was your 

first day back?” 

“Terrible,” I muttered, slumping in the chair beside him. “They think I’m useless.” 

He gave me a knowing look. “Because you’re 

a woman.” 

“And because I’m alone,” I added bitterly. “They said I need a husband to even look like 

IL 

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I’m capable of running what’s already mine.” 

My father set his tea down. “Then marry.” 

I blinked. “You recommend I get married? At 

forty–five?” 

He shrugged. “So what if you’re forty–five? I 

know someone the same age. Smart. 

Handsome. Has a very strong background in 

business.” 

I eyed him warily. “This better not be some 

matchmaking stunt.” 

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He raised his hands innocently. “Think of it as 

a business move. A strategic alliance. Secure 

the company. Get their trust back. Once you 

have it, you can divorce.” 

I sighed. “So, a fake marriage?” 

He nodded. “For the company’s sake.” 

I hesitated… then nodded. “Fine. If it means I 

keep what’s mine, I’ll do it. But this is a deal. 

Not love. I won’t open my heart again, Papa.” 

He gave me a sad smile. “I know.” 

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That evening, I was told to meet someone at the penthouse suite of the Grand Vivre Hotel. 

Candlelit dinner. Private room. A proper 

introduction to my supposed “business 

fiancé.” 

I wore something understated but elegant. I 

wasn’t there to impress–I was there to 

secure my empire. 

As I stepped into the elevator, nerves kicked 

1. in. What if he was someone intolerable? 

What if he expected more than just 

business? 

Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

The elevator dinged and I stepped out onto 

the top floor, headed toward Room 208. But 

just as I turned the corner, I bumped into 

someone. 

“Sorry,” I said quickly. But then my breath 

caught. 

“Trina?” he asked, eyes widening. “What are 

you doing here?” 

“Mateo?” I blinked, completely stunned. “I- 

I’m here to meet someone.” 

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Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

“So am I,” he said, just as confused. “Blind 

date.” 

“I’m actually late,” I muttered, trying to gather my thoughts. “I should go-” 

I turned toward the VIP room and walked 

faster, heart pounding. But I could hear his footsteps behind me. 

“I’m going to VIP 208,” he said casually. 

I stopped. 

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Slowly turned. 

“You’re my… blind date?” 

He laughed, running his hand through his 

hair. “Looks like it. My grandfather arranged 

this.” 

My jaw dropped. “My father arranged this.” 

We stared at each other. And then, he smiled. 

“Wow,” I breathed. “What a… coincidence.” 

Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “What a 

destiny.” 

Dinner was unexpectedly warm. Familiar. 

Safe. 

It was easy to talk to Mateo again. It always 

had been. But as the candle flickered 

between us, he asked the question I’d been 

avoiding. 

“You didn’t want to marry me back then… but 

you’re marrying someone now?” 

Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

I sighed. “It’s a business arrangement. Just to 

gain back control of the company. Divorce 

after that. It’s not about love.” 

“With me, it was real,” he said quietly. 

I nodded. “I know. And that’s what made it so 

hard to risk.” 

He leaned forward. “What about now? Are 

you willing to marry me for business?” 

I hesitated… then smiled faintly. “I guess | 

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don’t have much of a choice.” 

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Mateo reached across the table, brushing his 

fingers against mine. “Then let me warn you 

-if you marry me, I’m never leaving your side 

again.” 

I looked at him in the eye. “Then promise me 

something.” 

“Anything.” 

“Never hurt me.” 

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Let’s Divorce, My Husband 

He didn’t blink. “I won’t.” 

We spent the rest of the night talking about 

the business, mapping out our strategy like 

old times. He’d help manage external 

partnerships. I’d handle the internal 

restructuring. The board would believe in us. 

And once it was done–we could walk away. 

Clean. 

Or maybe… not. 

As we walked out of the hotel lobby together, 

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I felt lighter. Not happy. Not quite. But maybe… 

okay. 

Until someone grabbed my hair from behind. 

I shrieked, jerking back–and then froze. 

“Tania?” I gasped. 

My daughter stood there, face twisted in rage, fingers still tangled in my hair. 

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Let’s Divorce, My Husband