Ch. Divorce My H 15 Divorce My H 15

Chapter 15 

I told myself to focus. I had a company to rebuild, a name to protect, and an empire 

waiting to be reclaimed. But no matter how 

much I tried, the ache inside me lingered. 

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Tania’s words. The way she looked at me. The 

slap I delivered. It all haunted me like a 

shadow I couldn’t escape. 

Still, Mateo was there. 

Every morning, he’d show up at my office 

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with coffee, sometimes breakfast, always 

with that soft smile and steady presence. 

And today, finally, I was ready to make our 

announcement. 

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I stood before the boardroom table, filled with 

skeptical eyes and murmuring mouths. These 

were the men who questioned my 

competence the moment I returned. Who 

whispered about needing a “strong male 

partner” as if I were a lost child playing dress- 

1. up. 

Mateo stood beside me as I addressed them. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said clearly, 

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confidently. “This is Mateo Silvano, my 

fiancé.” 

The room stilled. 

Some exchanged glances. Others folded 

their arms, unimpressed. 

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“I know what you’re all thinking,” I continued. 

“That this is some last–minute business 

stunt. That I’m using a man to secure my 

spot.” 

“Isn’t it?” one older board member asked 

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coolly. 

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I smiled, but there was steel beneath it. “No. It 

isn’t. Mateo and I met long before any of this. 

We’ve known each other. We’ve shared time, 

life, pain. It’s not for business. It’s for love.” 

Mateo gently squeezed my hand. 

“But even if it were,” I added, “it doesn’t 

change one thing. My name is Trina DeVere. 

And legally, this company is mine. My father 

passed it down to me. And once I’m married, 

no board, no advisor, and no bitter gossip will 

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have any grounds to challenge that.” 

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I opened the portfolio in front of me, revealing 

the documents signed by my father. 

Proof. 

The room went silent. 

No one argued. 

Afterward, Mateo and I drove to my father’s 

estate. His smile when he saw us holding 

hands was worth every ounce of pain I had 

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endured these past few months. 

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“So, you two finally figured it out, huh?” my 

father chuckled, eyes crinkling in delight. “I’ve 

been waiting for this. It’s about time.” 

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Took a few 

decades.” 

“I always thought you’d choose him,” he 

added, his voice softening. “But then you 

chose Jackson. And I said nothing because I 

wanted you to be happy. But now…” He 

turned to Mateo. “Don’t screw this up.” 

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Mateo grinned. “I wouldn’t dare.” 

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We talked about wedding plans briefly, 

mostly light–hearted jokes about colors and 

cake flavors. But deep down, I knew–this 

wasn’t just a marriage. It was a reclaiming. Of 

myself. My identity. My voice. 

That afternoon, I accompanied my father 

back to his room, staying with him a while as 

he dozed off for a nap. Then Mateo and I 

drove to the boutique. 

Time for the gown. 

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It felt surreal, standing in front of a mirror with 

pins, lace, and silk draped around me. I turned 

this way and that, letting the fabric flow as 

the designer adjusted the bodice. Mateo sat 

nearby, watching me with a crooked smile like 

he couldn’t believe I was real. 

“This is it,” I whispered, more to myself. “This 

is really happening.” 

Then I heard a voice. 

Shrill. Familiar. Annoying. 

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“I said off–white, not eggshell. Are you blind?” 

My breath caught. 

I stepped out of the fitting room, adjusting 

the hemline of the gown. There she was- 

Donna Reid–standing in front of another 

mirror, fussing over lace sleeves with a smug 

look plastered on her face. 

She hadn’t seen me yet. 

I was about to turn away, keep it classy and 

invisible–until she looked up. 

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And saw me. 

The smirk dropped. 

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“What the hell are you doing here?” she 

snapped. “Are you stalking me? Stalking 

Jackson? You just can’t stay away, can you?” 

I didn’t blink. “Relax, Donna. I’m not here for 

trash I’ve already thrown away.” 

Her face twisted. “Excuse me?” 

“I mean Jackson,” I said sweetly. “He’s all 

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yours. Trust me–I’m not picking up 

something that’s already been used up.” 

Donna’s mouth opened, fury boiling behind 

her eyes. “He loves me now. He’s moved on. 

We’re getting married. So get out of my face 

before you ruin my wedding aura.” 

“Oh, that’s cute,” I said, brushing invisible lint 

off my dress. “Speaking of weddings… I’m 

getting married, too.” 

Donna’s expression froze. “To whom?” 

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I raised a brow. “What’s it to you?” 

She scoffed. “Oh, come on, Trina. Who would 

want you? You’re damaged goods. A forty- 

five–year–old has–been clinging to her dead 

name.” 

I gave her a mocking pout. “Aww, someone 

sounds nervous.” 

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She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m Donna Reid. 

I’m successful and beautiful–and I’ve got the 

man you couldn’t keep.” 

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That’s when Mateo walked in. 

And everything changed. 

“I’m her groom,” he said, striding in with 

perfect timing and his signature smile. “Nice 

to see you again, Donna.” 

Donna’s jaw dropped. Literally. 

Her eyes flicked between us, trying to 

process the power shift–and losing. Of 

course, Mateo was known as the most 

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eligible bachelor in the country. 

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I didn’t wait for her to recover. I turned back to 

the designer. “I’ll take this gown.” 

“No!” Donna barked. “I saw that one first! I 

already told the assistant I wanted that one.” 

I smirked. “Oh? That’s fine.” 

She blinked. “What?” 

“I said it’s fine,” I said, smiling. “I’ll find 

something better.” 

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And with that, I stepped aside, pulled out my 

phone, and called my butler. 

“Yes, Ms. DeVere. What can I do?” 

“I want to buy the boutique,” I said calmly, my 

eyes never leaving Donna. “All of it. Contact 

the owner. Immediately. Also… have her 

banned.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Donna scoffed. “You’re bluffing. You’re not-” 

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She stopped when the boutique phone rang, 

and one of the staff picked it up. 

A minute later, the manager appeared, 

whispering something in the assistant’s ear. 

The assistant turned pale, then turned to 

Donna. 

“I’m sorry, Ms. Reid. You’ve been… removed 

from the premises. You’re no longer allowed 

to shop here.” 

Two security guards appeared beside her. 

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“You can’t do this! I’M MARRYING JACKSON 

DELA TORRE!” she shrieked as they gently 

started guiding her away. “This is my dress! 

You’ll regret this, Trina!” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” I said, as I took Mateo’s 

hand and watched her get dragged out of the 

boutique, flailing and screaming. “I already 

don’t.” 

And with that, I laughed. 

Truly, freely, for the first time in years. 

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