Billionaire, Let's Divorce! by BELLA

MARK POV I pulled into the driveway, exhausted. Another long day of both work and fun had leftdrained, and all I wanted was to unwind and relax. I stepped out of the car and loosened my tie, eager to get inside and finally relax. When I entered the house, I saw Sydney sitting there, staring atwith her usual blank look. I barely spared her a glance while heading straight for my study.

"I want a divorce," Sydney said before I could even reach the sanctuary of my study.

Divorce? Ridiculous was the first word that cto my mind, and ridiculous it was indeed. The family business of Sydney's parents had been lent to the GT Group, which I owned. This was a contract that benefited both parties in every sense of the word. Sydney was only a woman I'd married, who depended on her parents andfor survival.

Divorce, huh? It was obviously her new way of crying for attention, like she was fond of doing. It used to be the pitiful demeanor she carried around her, which was enough to convince an outsider that she was being treated wrongly, even though that had never been the case. We'd been keeping up the married couple facade for three years already.

Now she was pulling a new stunt, which I wasn't going to fall for.

The next morning, I entered the dining room to have breakfast before leaving, but all I was met with was an empty table. A frown creased my brow as I asked one of the workers I was able to find lingering around.

"Where is she? And where's my food?" "I've not seen her this morning, sir," the worker replied. Later on, I got a report from eyes who'd happened to see her leaving with her suitcase last night. Most of her things were also gone from her room. Oh. This perhaps had to do with the divorce thing she brought up. Did she expectto fall for it or talk to her about it? I shrugged off the thought, grabbed my suitcase and jacket, and headed out. She had probably just gone to her parents' house. Where else could she go? They would surely knock ssense into her head about how to be a good wife and send her back.

My eyes darted up from the files in front ofwhen my assistant entered the office. Without a word, he placed a file on the table in front ofwith a curt bow.

"I think you need to see this, sir," he said before stepping back.

I took off my glasses and pulled the file closer, flipping it open to find the emboldened words "Divorce Proceedings." I frowned, continuing to scan the papers. She had already signed them.

"Thank you, you may leave," I said to my assistant, who bowed again before exiting the room.

Sydney had taken the first step in what seemed like a smart gto her, but to me, it was nonsense. Did she think I had the tfor all this? GT Group was not only my pride and joy, but also proof of my years of hard work and dedication. It was a large private equity firm based in Europe that specialized in investing in a variety of sectors like consumer goods, services, fashion, medical, and technology. With over 250 investment projects under our belt, we were a force to be reckoned with in the business world.

It was our third round of fundraising. We needed to secure a staggering $5 billion from investors worldwide. This was a critical moment for my firm, and the next month was going to be a whirlwind of activities. Withhaving to crisscross the globe and meet with potential investors from New York to Tokyo, London to Hong Kong. The next six months forwere packed with meetings, presentations, and negotiations.

And here someone was, bringing suseless papers to my table.

I angrily gathered up the papers and marched over to the shredder in the corner of my office, feeding them into the shredder and watching the machine devour every single one of them, before settling back down in my seat to reswhat was a hundred times more important.

It had been three long months of hectic fundraising for GT Group. I finally returned hto find that Sydney still wasn't there. My nose was hit with a gust of stuffiness when I pushed the door to her bedroom open, and the way everything was completely covered in dust, I could tell that it had been left unoccupied for a long time. She'd not returned yet? I angrily stormed out, picked up my phone and dialed her phone number.

"Sorry, the number you're trying to call is no longer in use," cthe automated voice through the speaker. I dialed again.

"Sorry, the number you're trying to-" I cut the call with a grit to my teeth.

"Find her immediately," I turned to my assistant. Get in touch with her parents, whatever you need to do." The man bowed hurriedly and scurried off, while I retreated to my room, both tired and exhausted. She'd successfully added more fuel to my already foul mood. I went into the shower, turned on the tap, let a torrent of cold water rain over my head, and wished all that iciness could take away all the fatigue and frustration I felt. Eventually, my assistant returned with the news that Sydney's parents were also unaware of her whereabouts and hadn't heard from her for a long time. Despite all, I still felt that Sydney's disappearance was part of her elaborate schto get to me, and it did seem to be working because it seriously got on my nerves.

I could only really take care of this after the next 3 months when I returned from my second trip. Before boarding the plane, I gave strict instructions to my assistant, "Find her before I return. If you fail, you'll lose your job." My assistant nodded at my words and hurried to assist with my suitcase. I paused, turned my head back because something on the table in the corners caught my hand. When I moved closer to see, it was the wedding ring. The ring that was initially meant for Bella but ended up on Sydney's finger.

The ring lost all significance tosince that day three years ago, which was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life. My bride was not Bella, the woman loved, but woman Sydney, her sister. I felt like such a fool back then, standing in front of the congregation like nothing was wrong. I just had to keep the show going on, and I made it very clear to Sydney that I wasn't going to be accepting her as my wife. She could keep the title for all she cared. As soon as I'd stepped down from the altar and worn the last round of fake smiles at the guests and photographers at every corner, I got into my car and pulled the damned ring off my finger. In fact, I didn't remember where I'd kept it after that day. I probably flung it off in annoyance.

But Sydney had decided to wear hers. Now that I saw that ring lying there in its own full circle of dust, I couldn't help thinking, maybe Sydney was serious about the divorce after all.

My jaw clenched briefly again before I turned from that table, leaving the useless relic there and walking out of the door. I still had a lot more work to do than occupy myself with this .

I arrived at the airport, immediately pulling on my sunglasses before stepping out of the car. I was quite popular, and a couple of people would often approach me, stare, or gawk because they recognizedfrom television or sother outlet.

"I'm sorry, are you so-and-so?" That kind of thing. The glasses were a minimal disguise, but they still did the job to an extent withhaving to add sbizarre mysteriousness to my outfit. While sometimes I'd nod with a smile and try to keep the interactions brief. I was particularly not in the mood today.

I headed towards the boarding gate, through the bustling airport crowd, at the stchecking my om wristwatch, when a woman brushed past me. The trail of her perfdanced over my face and slowly into my nose. The citrus and flowery scent were insanely familiar. It almost madefeel nostalgic in a strange kind of way. I stopped slowly in my tracks. I tried to fight the urge, but I couldn't resist turning my head. Her figure was receding into the distance behind me, and I could not tell if she was someone I knew.

I didn't recall ever seeing that face before.