El Patio Del Divorcio Novels & Stories

The housekeeper murmured a welcome, but my attention had already drifted toward the wide living room. Lola huddled on the sectional, knees drawn up, a thin blanket twisted around her shoulders. Her eyes were rimmed red, cheeks shiny with tear tracks. She looked up as I crossed the room and folded her into my arms. Her shoulders shook against me while she whispered the story—her mother’s affair, the slammed doors, the suitcase wheels rolling across the foyer this morning. Divorce. I rubbed slow circles on her back, murmuring soft sounds of comfort, letting her talk until her breathing evened out. All the while, my gaze kept sliding toward the open terrace doors where a tall figure stood silho

“Why is that? Is this because I am not Valerie? What does she f****** her that I don't? I'm the mother of your baby, Justin.” “That is the reason we are still married. Once the process is over, we'll get divorced. I'll go to bed now, I have to wake up early tomorrow.” Justin said coldly. With a smirk, Patricia glared hard at him. Nothing would stop her from having Valerie silenced. “I'm sure you must be looking for her everywhere. Don't worry, she's definitely going to show up at my father's birthday. You'll have the reunion that you're looking for.”

Everyone present was as surprised as I was! Sheridan raised his hand and directly gave Patrick a slap. "Bastard! What's wrong with you! Are you f*king kidding us?" By the side, Ned's face was also filled with astonishment. "I'm not kidding." As Patrick spoke, he took out a jujube-red certificate from his pocket. On its cover was "Divorce Certificate". When Patrick said this, he kept staring at me with his deep black eyes and did not move away from me for a second.

I yelled as angry tears left my eyes. Nate bowed his head momentarily as he walked away from me. “This news must never leave this room. Hate me all you want but what is done is done and I can never grant you divorce. You will no longer be allowed access to the penthouse, it has been sold. Your things will be brought to you tomorrow. We are husband and wife, Vivian, till death do us fucking part.” he said and left the room closing the door behind him while I slipped down to my knees and wept till I passed out.

I replied, squeezing his hand. We drove back to the penthouse in comfortable silence. When we got inside, Julian went straight to his laptop. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Checking something," he said, his fingers flying over the keyboard. I walked over and looked at the screen. He had multiple news sites open, all covering different angles of the scandal. "This one's interesting," he said, pointing to an article. "Patricia Whitmore Files for Divorce" My eyes widened. "She's divorcing him?" I asked.

Before I could finish, a voice cut in behind me. "You're really leaving my family?" I turned. Paolo stood under a tree, half-hidden in shadow. "Yeah," I said. "Didn't you want a divorce too? Congrats. We're done. You're free. So am I." That last dinner—our supposed final bollito misto—had been his no-show. Whatever. I had gone to the Ricci estate, grabbed the papers, and filed them myself at the courthouse. What I hadn't expected was Patrizia calling Paolo, asking what happened.

And for fourty bucks a night, I couldn't afford to be picky. Lydia set my suitcase on the bed and looked around with obvious distaste. "This is depressing." "It's temporary." "I hope." I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the divorce papers out of my bag. They were creased now, folded in half and shoved between my spare jeans and the cheap pendant my parents left me. I smoothed them out on the floral comforter and stared at my signature at the bottom of the last page. Aurora Sinclair. I've signed my name so many times in my life. Permission slips in elementary school. My marriage certificate, just before my parents died. Credit card receipts at fancy restaurants where Damien never lo

It was as if Patricia had been struck by lightning, her mind went blank and thunderous. She had been dreaming of calling out Hunter's name? She never knew. Martin had never told her. Her reaction only deepened Martin's misunderstanding and mockery, "Congratulations, you finally got what you wanted and ended up with him." "No, we..." Patricia tried to explain, but when she met Martin's mocking gaze, she suddenly regained her composure and retorted, "We have already divorced. It's none of your business who I'm with. It's my freedom. If you have time to meddle in other people's affairs, you better take care of your own fiancée first."

I tried again to put my feelings into words, but all that came out of my mouth was, "Ollie..." "I'm sick of you, Iris. I've been pretty sick of you for a while, to be honest. I suppose it's good you caught me in the act. I want a divorce." "No," I croaked. "Yes," he hissed. "I'll serve you the papers soon enough. Now you have to leave this house." "Thi- This is my home," I stuttered. "I'm your wife." "Not anymore. Now leave." "Ollie, we were happy together. What has gotten into you?"

"Exactly. Don't make this easy for her, Landon. She certainly didn't make it easy for you." After Rose hung up, I gathered up all the divorce papers and threw them in a drawer. I wasn't signing anything. If Ophelia wanted a divorce, she was going to have to fight for it. But as I was closing the drawer, something fell out of one of the legal documents. A business card for a law firm I'd never heard of: Patterson, Williams & Associates. The address was in the most expensive part of the city, the kind of place that charged thousands of dollars just for a consultation.