FAZER LOGIN"I want a divorce!" He spat angrily. Her eyes widened in shock. "W-What?" She stuttered, not believing what she heard. "You heard right. I want a divorce!" "But why?" °°°° Everything that brought them together split them apart. An arranged marriage between Glory Scott and Sean Kings. They made headlines when they got married and became everyone's favorite couple but no one knew how Glory was being treated behind closed doors. To top it all, Sean comes back from his trip and decides that he wants a divorce, and not to add, his lover was now carrying his child. Hurt and heartbroken, Glory leaves him only to come back years later as a certified Billionaire CEO! °°° "Please come back to me, Glory." He begged. Glory smirked and moved closer to him, her heels clicking against the floor. "You divorced me, Remember?"
Ver mais|GLORY|I thought Kevin had sent the complete list of invited guests. Why didn't that include the fact that my ex-husband was also invited?Raph must have noticed the way I froze so I quickly dropped the wine glass and muttered some words as I excused myself, passing by people with my vision slightly blurry. I was sure he didn't know I was the one. There was no way he would know that I was the one. No way. It has been what? Five years?Five years was too long for me to still react to his presence this way. This was Sean for you. He always had an effect on people. One of the many ways I was charmed but now, the timid veil over my eyes have been torn. I could see him who he was now. Selfish. Wicked. Cunning. I lifted my gaze to meet my reflection in the mirror. I can do this. Sean means nothing to me. Not anymore. Closing my eyes briefly, I let out a deep sigh and composed myself. Donning the steel and cold mask on my face, I walked out of the bathroom, my heels clicking against the
|GLORY|I was no fool. Supporting Kingsley meant putting everything I used three years to build in jeopardy and that, is something I would not do even if a gun pointed at me. After the discussion with Kingsley and I concluded that I would think about it. I also assured him that Kevin will get back to him soon. I scoffed at the thought. I already knew my answer but what is a little fun if I don't draw this out. Kingsley was just like every other selfish and corrupt politician who uses people and ensures that they never get the resources to be themselves again. He sucke them dry and abandons them. And I, Glory, will never be another man’s tool to fame or power again.“Ma’am, there is a business party tonight at the San’ Diego Hotels. Mrs. Jonathan sent an invitation to you last month. I already made the preparation. Booked you an appointment with GLOW this evening and selected your choice of gown also.” He informed me, his gaze on the tab in his hand as we both walked back to my offi
|GLORY|I stared down at the jade-green locket nestled inside the old jewelry box—the one I only bring out on days like this. My gaze lingered, heavy with grief. It was the last thing my mother pressed into my small palm before she died, leaving me behind.Maybe she should have taken me with her.At least then, I would’ve been happy—up there, with her.My hands trembled slightly as I clutched the lid, then I sat down. My legs ached from standing all night, robbed of sleep by a grief too loud to silence.Every year, I mourn her. It’s not just remembrance—it’s a ritual. My way of clinging to a piece of me that died with her, even though all I ever wanted was to let go. To become someone else. Someone unrecognizable.Someone new.Sometimes, I wonder if my father still remembers.Does he still think about the day his first wife died?The day everything changed?Does he remember me?A soft scoff escaped my lips as I shut the box and locked it, tucking it deep into the cupboard until next y
FIVE YEARS LATER…GLORY“I still don’t see any tangible reason to invest in this, Mr. Mahoor.” My voice was calm, deliberate. I leaned back in my chair, gaze flicking from the poorly structured flip charts to his anxious, sweat-beaded face.He swallowed hard, shifting on his feet, his fingers gripping the edge of the podium as if it were the only thing keeping him standing.“The thing here is that if we—”“Mr. Mahoor.” My exhale was slow, measured. “When it comes to doing business with me, I don’t deal in ifs.”“Oh, I deeply apologize, ma’am.” He let out a weak laugh, but no one else found anything funny. I caught one of his team members discreetly motioning for him to wrap it up.They were all the same. They thought they could impress me with half-baked proposals, second-rate pitches, and surface-level research. As if I would lower my standards for them.“Before you continue,” I glanced at my wristwatch, the diamonds glinting under the conference room lights, “you have exactly fiftee


















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