Her Divorce Lawyer Want Her novel Chapter 48

But now the whole villa sat dark and lifeless, the sunroom pitch black. Even the roses inside had all wilted and died.

Freya had loved roses more than anything. He’d pulled strings to fly in a rare hybrid straight from Brence–petals the size of your palm, with that gentle, intoxicating scent, in the soft pink she couldn’t get enough of.

She’d babied them for years, turning the sunroom into a nonstop explosion of color and bloom.

But she’d only been gone a few days, and already these finicky beauties had all keeled over.

Liam lit up a smoke, sinking into the driver’s seat with utter exhaustion, eyes fixed on the stars through the sunroof

He felt like he was hanging by a thread himself.

Once upon a time, he’d nursed this grudge in his gut–if she’d cheated once, he’d cheat once too, and call it even.

Honestly, Natalie hadn’t exactly bowled him over at the start.

Freya set a sky–high bar, and Natalie? Her looks fell a bit short.

Except for those killer hands of hers-

He’d always been obsessed with Freya’s: slim without being skinny, soft and glowing like porcelain. No fake nails for her- just clean, natural perfection.

Natalie’s were decent enough, but the glossy manicure ruined the vibe, stripping away any real elegance. Serviceable. maybe.

Picking her, Liam had rationalized it to himself: Average looks, average skills, average background. When it fizzles out, cut her a fat check–enough to live easy forever. Fair trade, no harm done.

He figured he’d played it close to the vest, but nope–Freya was way too savvy. She’d clocked it from the jump.

From there, shit just snowballed, careening off the rails with no brakes.

Liam rubbed his temples hard, inhaling deep and tasting only regret.

If he’d had any clue it’d end like this, he sure as hell wouldn’t have chased that dumb “payback” fantasy with Natalie.

His phone buzzed–a text from Jason, his assistant in Sairo: [Mr. Grant, Mrs. Grant’s all good. Holed up at the Wesley Hotel still.]

Liam let out a small sigh of relief and fired back: [Long as she’s not itching to run, give her space. Whatever she wants to do. let her.]

Over in Sairo, Jason chewed on the reply for a second.

He thought, ‘Mrs. Grant is basically running the show as hotel manager now–fat chance she’d bail.

‘Might as well kick back and see where this

goes.

Piece of cake.

Jason: [Roger that, Mr. Grant.]

Liam eyed his lock screen: that birthday pic from not too long ago, both of them cheesing like lovesick teens,

12:40 pm p pp

Chapter 48

Freya’s grin lit up the frame, her head tucked against his shoulder, a dollop of frosting he’d smeared on her nose.

And him? Gazing at her like an idiot, wrapped in total euphoria.

Man, if he could just hit rewind…

Yeah, right–in dreams.

But the pull was too strong. He hit dial.

Jason snatched it up. “Mr. Grant? What’s up?”

“Just checking–what’s Mrs. Grant doing?”

“Chilling in Ms. Hall’s room right now. The two are deep in convo.”

“You posted up where?”

“Living room. They’re in the bedroom.”

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