Ch. Divorce My H 33 Divorce My H 33

he announcement of our marriage had thrown the media into a frenzy. 

Speculation ran wild, with every outlet trying to uncover the mysterious Emily Urie’s true identity. Photos from the island were splashed across screens, and every headline posed the same question: Is Emily really Zoe Hart? 

But Preston had covered every detail, ensuring they would never find proof. 

Still, it didn’t stop Travis. 

Word spread quickly that he was frantically mobilizing his men, barking orders for them to track me down. People had spotted him pacing outside his office, snapping at his staff, his desperation bleeding into every action. 

But I wasn’t worried. Preston had planned for this. 

One night, as Preston and I sat on the balcony overlooking the vast ocean, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and smirked. “Well, well. Speak of the devil.” 

“Who is it?” I asked, already suspecting the answer. 

“Travis,” he said, putting the call on speaker. 

He answered with his usual calm confidence. “Hello?” 

“What the hell are you doing with my wife?” Travis’s voice was sharp, desperate, and laced with fury. 

Preston leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My wife is Emily, and Zoe is dead.” 

“She’s not dead!” Travis shouted. “I know it’s her. Don’t play games with me, Preston. I’ll find her.” 

Preston raised an eyebrow at me, amused, as if to say, Your move. 

I leaned closer to the phone, my smile cold. 

Through the speaker, Travis’s tone shifted, becoming almost pleading. “Zoe, if you’re listening… please, listen to me. Preston isn’t who you think he is. He’s not a good choice for you. I know I messed up. I know I made mistakes. But I’ll fix it. Just come back to me.” 

He sounded pathetic, his words dripping with desperation. 

I couldn’t help myself–I laughed. 

“Travis,” I said, my voice steady and sharp, “you’re pathetic. And for the record, I’m not Zoe. I’m Emily Urie. Your wife is dead.” 

Before he could respond, I hung up, tossing the phone onto the table. 

Preston chuckled, shaking his head. “That was cold.” 

“He deserves worse,” I said simply, leaning back in my chair. 

A few days later, Preston received an invitation to an exclusive auction. 

It wasn’t just any auction. This was a high–profile event, one where the elite gathered, 

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including people like Madison and, undoubtedly, Travis. 

I didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go,” I said. 

Preston raised an eyebrow. “You sure?” 

I smiled. “It’s time to show them we’re not hiding.” 

After our island honeymoon, we returned to Preston’s estate. 

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The sprawling mansion was every bit as grand as I imagined, with marble floors, towering ceilings, and walls lined with priceless art. 

But it wasn’t the grandeur that caught my attention when we walked through the front doors. It was the small details–the fresh flowers on the dining table, the scent of my favorite candle wafting through the air, and a cozy nook in the corner that looked like it had been made just for me. 

Preston had thought of everything. 

“You’ve been busy,” I said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I wanted to make it feel like home,” he replied casually, but there was a hint of something deeper in his tone. 

We walked into the dining room, where a small dinner had been prepared. Candles flickered softly, and the table was set for two. 

I glanced at him, a teasing smile on my lips. “You’re really good at pretending to be my husband, huh?” 

Preston turned to me, his expression suddenly serious. 

“What if I wasn’t pretending?” he asked. 

His words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. 

“What if this isn’t fake, Zoe?” His voice was steady, his gaze unwavering. 

I swallowed, caught off guard. “It’s fake,” I said, almost like I needed to convince myself. “Right? I mean… this is just part of the plan.” 

Preston shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

“It’s not fake.” 

“Preston…” I started, but he cut me off. 

“Do you know why I offered to help you?” he asked, leaning closer. 

I stayed silent, my heart pounding. 

“Because I’ve been in love with you for years. Since college,” he said, his tone soft but 

certain. 

“What?” My voice came out barely above a whisper. 

“You didn’t notice me back then. You were too busy with Ethan. But I noticed you, Zoe Every little thing. And when I saw you again, I knew I couldn’t let you go this time.” 

I stared at him, trying to process his words. 

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He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Now that you’re mine, there’s no way I’m letting you 

go.” 

Preston’s POV 

Chapter 11