Divorcing the Heartless CEO

"You’re back!” I chirped the moment I caught sight of the figure standing by the doorway. Breaking into a bright smile, I felt my heart skip a few beats as I locked my gaze into the person’s deep obsidian orbs. It was my husband—Edmund Grant, looking oh-so-gorgeous in his well-pressed custom navy blue suit. He looked extremely attractive without his eyeglasses, and his loosened tie gave off a bit of a rugged image. With his broad shoulders, lean muscular arms, and long legs, he looked nothing less than a movie star. He was a man with beauty, brains, and charisma. To me, he was perfect, and I was blessed to have him in my life. However, that familiar emotionless and icy stare that lingered on me told me he thought otherwise. Not once had I ever seen him smile or respond positively to anything involving me. “We need to talk,” he replied flatly, advancing to the carpeted living room. I gulped. This line had been used a gazillion times between couples in real life, books, and movies—a

I left the café with a heavy heart. The knowledge of Edmund’s affair had evaporated the sliver of hope I had unknowingly held onto. With Violet’s return and pregnancy, earning my husband’s sympathy was next to impossible; let alone saving our marriage. Cracking a bitter smile, I drove straight to the mall, feeling like an invisible hand was meticulously tearing off my flesh one piece at a time. And so, just like any other lady, I shopped until I dropped, swiping away Edmund’s card while hoping that it could lessen the pain gnawing at my insides. Truthfully, this was the first time I had ever spent so lavishly since I married into the Grants. But after prancing about for three hours in the expensive designer shops, my phone started vibrating. Sneering, I answered the call, chuckling drily the moment the line connected. “Are you doing this to spite me?” Edmund’s cold, baritone voice rang out. His tone was dripping with annoyance and it had me grinning from ear to ear. The string of m

I spent the next two weeks redecorating the home Raven had gotten for me. With the help of the city's finest designer, Macy Partridge, the theme I had in mind gradually came to life—a regency motif in varied shades of blue, gold, and beige, precisely like the Bridgerton's common room. I've been doing anything and everything that could use up all my spare energy these days. From having meetings with Macy, shopping for necessities, learning to cook new dishes, and even overhauling my wardrobe—I did it all. There were several afternoons when I had gone to old bookstores to collect some books I’d been wanting to read when I was younger. Now that I wasn't required to show up to parties as Edmund's arm candy, I'd have all the time in the world to drown myself in those pages. Unfortunately, there were still those fleeting moments when recollections from my stay at Grant's estate would keep popping back into my mind, causing my mood to drop dramatically. But I never let it bog me. So inst

“Stop it!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I tried to get in between the brawl but Zayn managed to pull me away from the fighting men. “They’ll stop when they’re exhausted,” Zayn stated, wincing as he watched his best friend beating my brother like a punching bag. “Edmund!! Stop it!” I shouted again. Panic rose to my throat when I caught a glimpse of Raven’s bleeding nose. He may have been an athlete and had a fair share of fistfights with his fellow players back in the day, but he was not a trained fighter. Edmund, on the other hand, was a black belt holder in both karate and taekwondo. He even boxed whenever he had the spare time. Undoubtedly, he could easily beat my brother to death if he were to get serious. “He’s drunk. Nobody can stop him,” Zayn mumbled, heaving a deep sigh. “Don’t worry, he’s not going to murder your man.” My face contorted into a deep scowl. I jerked away from Zayn and ran closer to the fighting duo. Never in my whole life had I imagined that I would ha

“Right. Raven and I grew up together, while Violet is one of my good friends. Now you know two people within my circle,” I confirmed. Smiling gracefully, I held Edmund’s wrist to make him stop his awkward gesture. To my surprise, he didn’t avoid my touch. I stole another glance at Violet. She was biting her lips, her hands clenched into fists, and her eyes plastered on our hands—a clear indication of her displeasure. This made me secretly smile, knowing that I’d successfully pissed the shit out of her. “It seems like I’m going to have to get to know your friends better,” Edmund answered. He even stroked my cheek, almost making me shiver in disgust. What the freak? This wasn’t the man I knew. The Edmund Grant I married was an indifferent human being who saw me solely as a gold-digger, a desperate wife, a pretentious clown. Most importantly, he detested physical contact. Who was this clone, and where did he hide that cheating prick? Or was this one also his minion? I scoffed inw