Ch. Divorce My H 31 Divorce My H 31

I slammed my fist on the desk, the sound echoing in my office. 

Everywhere I turned, there was chaos. My stocks were plummeting, investors were pulling out, and the media wouldn’t let up. No matter how many statements I gave, no matter how much I spun the story, nothing worked. 

It was like trying to stop a flood with a paper cup. 

“Sir,” one of my staff interrupted hesitantly, standing at the door. 

“What now?” I snapped, my patience razor–thin. 

“We’ve tracked the dummy account,” he said, voice trembling. “But…” 

“But what?” 

“It’s pinging from the middle of the sea. The location is untraceable.” 

I cursed under my breath, shoving the papers on my desk aside. “Are you telling me you can’t find who’s doing this?” 

The staff member looked down, avoiding my glare. “We’re trying, sir. But whoever this is- they’re good.” 

I waved him off, my frustration boiling over. 

The dummy account was relentless, sending evidence that tore apart everything I had built. My reputation, my company–it was all crumbling. 

I leaned back in my chair, gripping the armrests so hard my knuckles turned white. 

None of this made sense. 

I had read Zoe’s letter a dozen times, gone over every word. She was gone. But deep down, something didn’t feel right. 

What if she wasn’t dead? 

The thought gripped me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. 

“No,” I muttered to myself. “That’s impossible.” 

But the void inside me refused to be ignored. I hated how it gnawed at me, how her absence felt like a weight I couldn’t shake. 

I didn’t love Zoe. I never did, 

So why did it feel like my chest was caving in every time I thought about her? 

I slammed my hands on the desk. “Enough of this!” 

I picked up my phone and dialed my head of security. “I want a full investigation. Find out everything about Zoe. Where she was, who she talked to–everything. And don’t stop until you get answers.” 

“Yes, sir,” came the reply. 

Madison barged into my office without knocking, as usual. 

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“Travis,” she said, her voice soft, almost pleading. 

Before I could say a word, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. 

4.92% 

I froze, my mind flashing to Zoe. Her face, her voice, her laugh–it all came rushing back. 

I pushed Madison away, my chest tightening. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stunned. 

I ran a hand through my hair, forcing myself to sound calm. 

“We shouldn’t be seen together right now. Not with everything going on.” 

Her expression darkened. “You’re still worried about the media? Travis, I’ve lost everything including my modelling career. Ethan is divorcing me. I have nowhere to go.” 

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Go to the hotel. I’ll figure something out later.” 

She opened her mouth to argue, but I didn’t give her the chance. I grabbed my coat and walked out, leaving her behind. 

The wake was somber, the air thick with the scent of lilies and mourning. 

I stood by the casket, staring down at the woman they said was my wife. 

Her face was pale, lifeless, and still. 

But something about her felt… off. 

I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the longer I looked, the more uneasy I felt. 

Was it really her? 

The thought twisted in my mind, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face. 

I quickly wiped them away, angry at myself for letting my emotions slip. 

“She’s gone,” I whispered to myself. “That’s all that matters. 

I turned and left the room, my chest tight with something I couldn’t name. 

As I walked to my car, I caught a glimpse of someone in the distance. 

A woman. 

Her hair, her posture–it was so familiar. 

“Zoe?” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat. 

I took a step toward her, but before I could reach her, she disappeared into the crowd. 

I shook my head, forcing myself to stay grounded. “You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered. “It’s just a ghost.” 

I turned back to my car, trying to push the thought away. 

But before I could open the door, two police officers stepped forward. 

“Travis Harper?” one of them said. 

I straightened, my stomach sinking. “Yes?” 

“You’re under arrest,” the officer said, pulling out a warrant. 

“What?” I said, my voice rising. “On what grounds?” 

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ཊཱི92%▪ 

“We have evidence linking you to the unlawful death of Zoe Hart’s mother,” he said flatly. 

My heart stopped. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice shaky. “Where did you get this… 

evidence?” 

The officer didn’t respond. He simply gestured for me to step away from the car. 

As they handcuffed me, my mind raced. 

Who could have done this? Who would have had the documents? 

When I finally got my phone call, I dialed my lawyer immediately. 

“Who gave them the evidence?” I demanded, pacing the small holding cell. 

There was a pause before he answered. “It must have been Ethan Harris.” 

16:01 Tue, 24 Jun 

Chapter 9