Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 23

Darren glanced over at her, his eyes as cold and distant as a frozen lake. “You recover quickly, don’t you?”

Charlotte clutched her abdomen, her back hunched, her voice tight with pain. “Well, I had to pull myself together if I wanted to make it here on time for the divorce.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than a sharp, stabbing pain tore through her entire body from deep within her stomach.

Her knees buckled and she staggered sideways, barely managing to keep from collapsing onto the pavement.

The sight of her struggling drew a soft, mocking laugh from Xena, who covered her mouth demurely. “Mr. Harrington, looks like Mrs. Harrington’s trying to fake an illness for sympathy. Trying to stall for time, maybe?”

Darren’s gaze lingered on Charlotte, her face pale, a trickle of blood at the corner of her lips. His arm tightened involuntarily around Xena’s waist.

He arched an eyebrow, voice cool and unfeeling. “Charlotte, even if you drop dead here today, the divorce will go through. Save your theatrics.”

Those words—so brutally final—were the last straw.

Charlotte doubled over, and suddenly blood gushed from her mouth in a violent, uncontrollable surge.

A red stain bloomed across the courthouse steps, stark against the pale stone.

Darren’s expression changed in an instant.

Charlotte braced herself against the wall, forcing herself upright. “Darren… don’t keep the court staff waiting. Let’s get this over with.”

With that, she struggled past him, every step heavy, her body trembling with the effort.

She’d promised herself she’d let him go, but as she brushed his shoulder, a fresh wave of pain swept over her, sharper than before. Still, she knew this pain wouldn’t last. Soon, it would all be over.

Darren watched her unsteady figure retreat, something complicated flickering in his eyes.

Beside him, Xena smirked. “Mr. Harrington, did your wife take acting lessons? She almost had me convinced.”

Darren frowned.

He clenched his fists, refusing to go to her, and closed his eyes.

But when he opened them again, struggling to master the emotions swirling in their depths, his gaze hardened.

Charlotte hadn’t hit the ground. Instead, she was caught in the arms of a tall young man in his late twenties, standing nearly six foot two.

Herbert was dressed in a crisp, understated white suit, gold-rimmed glasses framing a face both handsome and mature.

“Charlotte, are you alright?” His voice was gentle, soothing.

Charlotte struggled to lift her heavy eyelids, her lips parting weakly. “Mr. Nelson… you’re here…”

“I brought your medication,” he said softly.

Carefully, Herbert settled her onto a nearby bench and, with steady fingers, opened a small bottle of pills.