Ex-Wife's Return to the Mafia Lord

Divorce

Celine pov

It was our third anniversary, and I was overwhelmed. I have long awaited and anticipated this day. I was going to try to win my husband's love.

Sure, I knew that my marriage was going to work, even if it's not been a bed of roses for these three years. I was determined and undeterred in my pursuit of a happy and loving home full of emotions and everything good I had ever imagined.

I woke up that morning feeling relieved and full of excitement and without hesitation, I hurried with the chores, freshened up, and made his favorite meal.

When I was done, I hurriedly checked in the Glorcies store to get his favorite wine when I noticed we ran out of it in the wine chamber.

I almost stormed into a moving vehicle in an attempt to hasten up the preparation and setting before his arrival from his weekend business trip.

Entering the mansion, I paused to take a deep breath, tapping my chest and reaffirming that plans were in place and it was going to work out. I knew Harry would be back in an hour, so I hurried over to the bedroom to change over to something much sexier while I got set to welcome him upon arrival. My heart full of anticipation, butterflies forming in my stomach.

Moving towards the bedroom, the door was widely opened, the atmosphere was tense, and the sound coming from the bedroom nearly knocked me off my feet.

“Arhh, bbabby, f**k me harder,” her moans filled the air.

What was going on in there? I was shocked, so I entered the room. The sight that greeted me blew me off my feet. My body started trembling, my heart palpitating. I stood struck dumb in disbelief and shock, tears flowing freely from my face.

He was f**king the hell out of her on our matrimony bed on our anniversary day, which was so disheartening. I stood there in shock and disbelief, my heart racing as if in a mincer. I couldn't believe what I was gazing at. If anyone had told me that Harry would do this to me on this special day, I would have laid abuse on the person.

I know these three years have not been perfect, but I never for once thought that Harry could betray me in this manner, not to mention bringing her to our matrimony bed. It really hurts.

He was damn busy thursting. I stood there watching, and tears streamed down my eyes, uncontrollable. He stopped making love to me, distancing himself and giving me a cool attitude, but he was busy making love to another. What a life!

They were oblivious to my presence at first until Harry pulled out of her, and she opened her eyes after reeling from climax. In that moment, she caught sight of me and gasped, tapping Harry's back for his attention. When his gaze met mine, no trace of remorse was etched on his features; all I could see was hate, irritation, and anger.

I knew I couldn't stand there anymore, watching the man I loved and spent my three years with, betray me like this, so I took on my heels downstairs. I got to the living room and threw myself on the couch, burying my head in my arms, and sobbed. I wasn't expecting him to follow after me; after all, he never loved me. So this is what he has been doing behind my back, and today he decided to bring his whore to our home, the very one I have spent three years of my life building. I felt really hurt; it was as if my heart was no longer in its place. I sobbed yet more. The plans, the preparations, oohh!

I was there, still in pain, when his hoarse voice came roaring, “Oh, there you are?” his tone devoid of emotion, his expression unreadable.

I stood up, and our gaze locked in an intense stare, silence filled the room. He was never remorseful; his expression dripping of irritation and disdain.

I broke the stiff silence and spoke, “Baby, why?” trying so hard to keep my voice steady, masking my pains.

“Don't baby me,” he yelled, stretching a file I was oblivious to. “Take it, sign it this very minute, and leave.

“what's this?” I asked in shock.

“Divorce papers, and I need your signature on them right away,” his voice roared unremorsefully.

“I don't think I want to continue in this marriage any more; I have gotten all I ever wanted in you, and it is time you leave my house. I know you married me for my money, but I am done, and I want you out of my house,” his words laced with fury, it's warmth lingering.

His words shredded my heart into tiny little pieces; I couldn't comprehend what I just heard. Was I being used and doped? tears streamed more. I couldn't hold back the urge to confront him at this instant.

“How could you be so heartless and ruthless that you did this to me? I have been nothing but a loving and faithful wife to you. Despite the humiliations and harsh treatments from you, your mother, and your sister, I still stayed loving you unconditionally and hoping this marriage works, and now you look me in the face to tell me it's time I leave your house? How could you be this mean after betraying me?” I lashed out the anger caged inside my heart.

I was expecting him to plead or melt by my words; this was the first time I ever talked or yelled back at him, not afraid of his bullies, which I was already used to.

But he remained mean and ruthless, holding my wrist tightly. “How dare you?” His eyes filled with fury, and his tone pitched. “Now sign this and leave before I do something drastic to you.

Seeing him in such a mood frightened me and snatched the living life out of me; the tears halted momentarily. I picked up the divorce paper, and my eyes scanned through it. I couldn't believe he was leaving me with no penny. I was from a poor background, living in the slums with my sick mother, who was a maid in the family mansion.

I turned toward him, our gaze met. Sure, he read my mind without spilling a word. The tears that streamed choked my words, making it impossible to alter a word.

“Yes, you came with nothing, and you leave with nothing,” his tone asserted arrogantly.

I wanted to plead, but at that instance, my heart became much heavier and his gaze was intense with dismay and anger. It was much for me to carry, It felt like something huge was tied around my neck. I had to leave. So with clouded emotions, I signed the divorce papers and left with the little shabby bag I had brought to his house three years ago. He refused to leave me with anything I ever acquired in his house, only those I came with.

Isn't that cruel and disheartening? How the rich treat the poor, not to mention the one man I have ever loved and given my all to...