All Chapters of Divorcing my billionaire husband, his best friend wants me : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

JOANNA. I sat behind my desk, staring blankly at the open document on my screen, but the words blurred into each other like meaningless scribbles. I had read the same paragraph five times and still couldn’t tell what it said. My hands were on the keyboard, but my mind… my mind was elsewhere.Every thought came back to him.To Luther, Camilla and the pregnancy. I shut my laptop with a frustrated sigh and leaned back in my chair, letting my eyes drift to the ceiling. I had come in early, hoping to bury myself in work—to forget, even for a few hours. But it was impossible. My thoughts were louder than any spreadsheet, more persistent than any deadline.I thought about yesterday… how I went home early and packed my things. How I walked through the mansion with numb legs and a racing heart, stuffing clothes and memories into boxes. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to.But I had to. Because if another woman was carrying his child… I couldn’t be the third party in their lives. I wouldn’t.

LUTHER. It’s been two days.Two damn days, and I haven’t been able to reach Joanna. Not a call. Not a message. Nothing.I’ve sent her over twenty texts. I’ve called so many times I’ve lost count. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I just keep trying. Hoping. Begging. Praying she picks up. Just once. Just to hear her voice and know she’s still willing to talk to me.But the silence is louder than anything I’ve ever heard in my life.Ever since that stupid headline went viral..Could Joanna Wright be cursed?I’ve been going out of my mind. People whispering, reporters camping outside, social media chewing it all up like it’s entertainment. And all I can think about is her. How she must feel. How deeply that headline must’ve cut. I know how private Joanna is to some extent despite being a big name. I know how hard she tries to hold it all together.My hands are shaking even now. I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten properly. Work is piling up, and for the first time since I built my c

CAMILLA..It’s been a year since I broke them apart, Luther and Johanna.A whole year since I found out I was pregnant and made the biggest play of my life. A year since their “marriage” came crashing down in scandal, and Luther was forced to make a decision, one that, even though it didn’t put a ring on my finger, still brought him closer to me.I carried Lucia through the whispers, the headlines, the silence. I didn’t care. I had one job,to have this baby, and keep Luther close enough until I could reel him in completely.And for the most part… I’ve succeeded.He sends money every month. Expensive baby clothes. Hired help. Food. The best pediatrician in the city. He checks in. He shows up when I ask. He plays the part of a good father.But only for Lucia.Not for me.I’ve watched him walk in and out of this apartment like a polite stranger. Kind. Generous. But distant.Never once reaching for me. Never once holding my gaze. And for a while, I let it be. I was patient. Lucia was a n

JOANNA..I sat quietly in my office, staring out the wide window as sunlight poured in, bathing everything in soft gold. The L.A. sky was clear, the streets humming with movement, but inside me, everything was still.It’s been a year.A whole year since I left New York. Since I left Luther.I hadn’t seen him since. Not in person, at least. But I knew he had tried. He reached out so many times—calls, texts, voice messages. I ignored every single one. Not because I hated him... but because I couldn’t handle the sound of his voice. Not then. Not after everything that happened.I needed space. I needed time to breathe, to grieve, to recover.Everything had moved too fast. The fake marriage. The stolen moments. The feelings that grew stronger than I ever meant for them to. And then it all exploded. Headlines. Paparazzi. Camilla’s pregnancy. Her smug little smirk as the photo went viral. Sometimes, when I’m alone, I still cry because I miss him so bad and everything that went wrong In my l

LUTHER. I stood in front of Camilla’s door, my fingers wrapped tightly around the small tracker in my coat pocket. My heart was beating fast—but not because of her. I was here on a mission. One slip, and it could all fall apart.The door creaked open.“Luther!” she gasped, eyes wide with surprise and excitement. She flung her arms around me before I could say a word. “You actually came.”I forced a soft smile and hugged her back lightly. “We needed to talk.”She stepped aside, letting me in. The place hadn’t changed. Too tidy. Too fake. Like everything about this.“Can I get you something?” she chirped. “Water? Juice?”“Water’s fine,” I said.As soon as she turned toward the kitchen, I moved fast. I crossed to the TV stand, crouched near a family photo, and slid the tracker behind the power strip—deep enough not to be noticed, close enough to pick up sound. Dickson said it would activate automatically and sync with the investigator’s system.I stood up just as she came back, a glass