Ch. Divorce My H 34 Divorce My H 34

The first time I saw Zoe Hart, she walked into the library like she owned the place. 

Thad been sitting in the back corner, pretending to study but barely paying attention to the book in front of me. Then she walked in, laughing softly at something her friend said. 

She had this energy–this light about her–that made everything else fade into the background. 

I couldn’t stop staring. 

But Zoe didn’t even notice me. 

She was too focused on Ethan Harris, her boyfriend at the time. He was waiting for her at a table by the window, flashing his smug smile like he already owned the world. 

I hated him. 

He didn’t deserve her. 

For weeks, I stayed in the background, watching her from a distance. I memorized the way she twisted her hair when she was focused, the way she bit her lip when she read something interesting. 

But she never noticed me. 

And when I heard they were getting married, I left the country. 

I told myself I needed to move on, to forget her. But forgetting Zoe Hart was impossible. Years later, when I learned she’d married Travis Harper instead, my first thought was that I had been too late again. 

By the time I found out how badly she needed help, how trapped she was, it was already done. 

But now, as I watched her move around the kitchen, I knew one thing for certain: I wouldn’t let her go this time. 

No matter what. 

I leaned against the doorway, watching her as she prepared breakfast. 

She was still awkward around me, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with the utensils, but there was a softness in her movements now. She was getting comfortable. 

Her bump was small but noticeable, and it sent a strange mix of emotions through me- protectiveness, admiration, and maybe something deeper I didn’t want to name just yet. “Zoe,” I said, stepping into the kitchen. 

She looked up, startled, then quickly turned back to the stove. “Yes?” 

“I’ve scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you this afternoon,” I said. 

Her hand paused mid–stir. “You did what?” 

“For the baby,” I clarified, stepping closer. “It’s important to make sure everything’s okay.” 

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Her brows furrowed, and for a moment, I thought she’d argue. But then she sighed, nodding. “Fine.” 

We had breakfast together, sitting at the small dining table by the window. The conversation was light, almost comfortable. 

She was warming up to me, and I wasn’t going to waste that chance. 

At the hospital, Zoe sat in the waiting area, her hands resting on her lap. 

The appointment was taking longer than expected, and she was starting to fidget. 

“I’ll grab us some water,” I said, standing up. “The vending machine’s just down the hall.” 

She nodded, her eyes drifting toward the window. 

I left her there. 

But when I returned, the chair where she’d been sitting was empty. 

My chest tightened. 

“Zoe?” I called, glancing around the room. No response. 

I scanned the hallway, my mind racing. She wouldn’t just leave. Something must have happened. 

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. I had men stationed outside the hospital, but if she’d wandered off without telling me, I had to find her first. 

I was halfway down the corridor when I heard hurried footsteps. 

“Preston!” 

I turned to see Zoe rushing toward me, her cheeks flushed, her breathing heavy. 

“What happened?” I asked, moving toward her. 

Her eyes were wild, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I saw him. The doctor who operated on my mother. He’s here, Preston. We need to get to him. He could be the witness we need against Travis.” 

I didn’t ask how she was so sure. The determination in her eyes was enough. 

I grabbed her arm gently. “Where did you see him?” 

She pointed down the hall. “That way. He was heading toward the east wing,” she said and described the doctor to me. 

I pulled out my phone and dialed one of my men. “Get inside the hospital. We’re looking for 

a doctor. Male, mid–forties, wearing a white coat. He’s connected to the Hart case. East Wing. Named Kevin Locke.” 

The voice on the other end responded with a curt 

“Understood.” 

I hung up and looked at Zoe. “Let’s move.” 

We combed through the hospital, moving quickly but discreetly. My men had spread out, covering multiple floors. 

Zoe stayed close to me, her eyes darting nervously at every corner. The east wing was 

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quieter, almost deserted. We checked each corridor, but the doctor was nowhere in sight. 

“He was just here,” Zoe whispered, frustration lacing her voice. 

“Keep looking,” I said. “He couldn’t have gone far.” 

We pushed open doors, scanned waiting areas, and questioned a few nurses. No one seemed to know where he had gone. 

My phone buzzed. One of my men. 

“Sir, there’s no sign of him inside the building,” he said. “We’re checking the exterior now.” 

I exhaled sharply. “We’re heading that way.” 

The cool evening air hit us as we stepped outside. Zoe was beside me, her eyes scanning the parking lot and the shadowy spaces around the hospital grounds. 

The place was alive with activity–ambulances arriving, nurses stepping out for breaks- but there was no sign of the doctor. 

“Preston,” Zoe said. She pointed toward the side of the building. “Over there. He might have gone that way.” 

I nodded, signaling to two of my men nearby. “Check that direction,” I ordered. 

They moved quickly, disappearing into the shadows. 

Zoe and I headed toward the opposite side. We reached the edge of the building, where the alley opened up to a small loading dock. 

“Do you think he ran?” Zoe asked, her voice barely audible. 

“Maybe,” I said. “Or he’s hiding because he saw you.” 

Before I could say more, a noise above us made me freeze. 

A sharp, gut–wrenching scream tore through the night. 

We both looked up, our eyes darting to the rooftop. 

A figure stood at the edge, silhouetted against the faint glow of the city lights. 

For a split second, time seemed to stop. 

Then the figure fell. 

Zoe let out a gasp, her hands flying to her mouth as the body plummeted, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. 

We stood there, frozen, staring at the lifeless form crumpled on the pavement. 

It was the doctor. 

Chapter 11