All Chapters of Divorced my Cheating Husband for his Billionaire Uncle: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

“Thank you Doctor, can you please give us some time with him? I am not sure you’ll be able to enter right now. We are all running on emotions right now.”“Sure sir. We’ll be back in an hour or so.”Arthur stands outside the hospital room just a little longer, with a weight in his chest that no amount of deep breathing can loosen.Two months.That’s all the time Mason has left, eight weeks, possibly even less. And not because of an accident or premediated illness.No… it’s glioblastoma. Silent, vicious, and final. No cures, only… this.Arthur’s jaw clenches and unclenches as he pushes the door open.The room is dim, humming with machines and smelling faintly of antiseptic. Bethany and Martha sit close together now, their silence sitting heavily in the room. Martha’s tears have slowed to soft sniffles, her body slumped like it had aged decades in the span of an hour.Bethany looks just as drained, her eyes red and heavy. Looks like Martha has told her what is going on with Mason, she lo

The holding cell stinks terribly of sweat and urnine and not so well taken care of body discharges.Smells disgusting in there.And it is not just the stink of sweat or urine, like the average downtown drunk tank, no. This one also reeks of guilty men dressed up in expensive cologne. Designer jeans and loafers scuffed on concrete, the exact dressings that they had all been arrested in though they do stink now from not having baths for days.Five men, once golden boys in nightclubs and boardrooms, now sit on cracked terrazzo floors under extremely dim bulb lights.Trevor sits with his legs crossed, perfectly calm for someone in such a situation.The others? Not so much, they are relying on him and for someone they are leaning on, he seems a little too calm for their liking.“Trevor, man,” hisses Logan, slick back that is not so slick now, pacing the cell like a caged animal. “You said your dad would never let this happen, you said you’ll never spill our names now look at all of us, sitt

Detective Reynolds has never hated walking down this damned hallway more than he actually does now, with what he knows his mission it, he does not look forward to the next few minutes since he’ll be walking down the same hall again.The keys jingle in his hand, cold metal biting into his palm as he squeezes it more than he should, causing himself pain. He passes the front desk, the vending machines, the bulletin board with the crooked missing persons flyer... all of it feeling a little more annoying than usual.For the first time in a very long time, he regrets his job and for once wishes that he was in a position of power to refute the corrupt order that he is about to go ahead and act out. He had spoken to Daisy Worth just some minutes ago before he decided to accept his fate and do as ordered unless he wanted to risk his job, and even if he does risk his job for the sake of his integrity, the five bastards will still get released anyway so there is basically no point dragging out t

It is a new day on the barracks, the morning frills are done and so are evening ones, it’s just past the time for everyone to have dinner but someone is not headed to the cafeteria for food.The knock on the door announces his arrival to his caller.Major Chara’s office is dimly lit but bright enough fir the time of the day, considering she is in the male fields, she knows just how to be careful enough to not have too much light on, not too much to help the stalkers peek through the window at her perfectly figured body. She’s currently halfway through dressing, uniform pants already snug around her waist, boots laced to perfection, but her shirt still hanging on the back of a chair.“Come in,” Chara calls, her voice calm.She doesn’t bother rushing. She knows exactly who it is and why she has sent for him.The door opens, and then nothing.No footsteps. No greeting.Just silence from who it is that stands at the door.Private First Lieutenant Mason Campbell.She turns slightly, still

The man walks in front of the station like he’s trying not to walk into a landmine, slow, tentative steps. He stops at the top of the stairs, takes one deep sigh, rubs his weak looking eyes and takes the few more steps into the building.He does not take big strides and no waving hands. Just quiet, precise steps through the front doors of the Precinct, wearing a weather beaten hoodie and jeans that have seen better years. His eyes are the kind that don’t blink enough, too haunted to remember how.Or at least that is what it looks like to whoever cares to give him a glance.At the front desk, Officer Laney gives him the once over. She’s halfway through sipping her third iced latte when she asks, “Can I help you sir?”The man doesn’t answer at first, first choosing to check if she is a police officer since she is in civilian clothes, then seeing her badge in her hands, he sighs audibly before responding, saying…“I need to talk to someone. Someone in charge of a particular case here.”L