icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon

After Divorce:My arrogant ex-husband regrets

Chapter 4 4

Word Count: 668    |    Released on: 27/01/2026

tained almost nothing of what the doctor said. She nodded at the right times, smiled when a

n Queens. It was a modest house, cluttered and warm, a s

front steps, a sleek car pulled

She knew the

a large, cellophane-wrapped fruit basket. He looked like the picture of success. H

ut, his voice booming wit

up. "Oh, Jere! You're so busy, t

round Deliah's waist. His grip was firm.

mile," he whispered, his tone dropping to t

It felt like her face might crack. She felt

loveseat, taking up too much space, playing the perfect son-in-law. He asked Arthur, Deliah

ous at his duality. How could he be this pe

glanced at it, then flipped it face down. "F

is so lucky to have you, Jere.

ing. "I'm going to make tea," she

edge of the sink, hyperventilating. The walls felt like they were clos

search bar: Divorce

first one that looked discreet and

m on the website. Name: Deliah Hines.

hit

d he

n instantly. Jere was standing in the

ng. "You're acting strange today. You were

ged, her voice low. "O

. "Stop with the attitude, Deliah. I am doing this for your parents. Do you

explicitly, but the implication was clear:

as trapped. Her family's financial surv

owing her rage. "Fine. L

ut and tucked a strand of hair

beautiful lie. As she sat down, Deliah's phone vibrated in

ceived you

the fir

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open
After Divorce:My arrogant ex-husband regrets
After Divorce:My arrogant ex-husband regrets
“I sat alone at my long marble dining table, staring at a plate of cold truffle risotto. My husband, Jere, was late again, claiming he was stuck in a "war zone" of a board meeting for a multi-billion dollar merger. A single Instagram notification shattered the silence. It was a photo of a candlelit birthday dinner, featuring a man's hand resting on a white tablecloth. I recognized the slight veins, the jagged scar on the thumb, and the navy-faced Patek Philippe watch I had spent six months tracking down as a wedding gift. Jere wasn't in a boardroom; he was celebrating his ex-girlfriend Irina's birthday while texting me to "don't wait up." The next morning, I followed him to a VIP hospital wing. I watched through a cracked door as my husband cuddled a five-year-old boy and whispered tender promises to Irina. When he came home, he tried to buy my silence with a rare pink diamond bracelet, but I found the receipt: he had bought two identical ones. He had branded his wife and his mistress with matching jewelry, using hidden trackers to keep us both on a leash. When I confronted him, he didn't flinch. He coldly reminded me that he owned my father's massive debts and could send him to prison for insolvency fraud with one phone call. "Stop with the attitude, Deliah," he said. I felt like a ghost haunting my own life, trapped in a gilded cage by the man who paid for my mother's heart surgery while keeping a secret family across town. The humiliation peaked at our rescheduled anniversary dinner when Jere received a text, threw a stack of hundreds at me like I was a stranger, and abandoned me in a crowded restaurant to rush back to her. "Pay the bill," he commanded before walking out. Standing in the wreckage of a shattered crystal vase back at the penthouse, I realized my silence was the only thing keeping his empire standing. I pulled the crumpled divorce papers from my purse and signed my name with a steady hand. I wasn't just walking away; I was calling his sister to help me burn his perfect world to the ground.”