Delete My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 12

Sebastian Kingsley's fingers clenched the divorce papers, crumpling them in his palm. Suddenly, he froze, as if burned, and let go.

"This is the last thing she left behind..." he murmured, his voice hoarse and broken.

His trembling fingertips traced the name "Annabelle Whitmore" on the paper, each stroke carving deeper into his heart. He remembered the finality in her signature, the pain like a piece of his heart had been ripped out.

"Annabelle..." His voice cracked as he whispered her name. "I was wrong... I know I was wrong..."

His shattered confession echoed through the empty mansion. Once filled with her presence, now only cold air remained.

"I haven't signed yet. We're still married." His head snapped up, a desperate glint in his eyes. "You can't run from me, Annabelle Whitmore."

Carefully, he folded the papers and tucked them into his breast pocket—right beside the lipstick she used to love, the only keepsake he'd salvaged from the trash.

He scrolled through the few remaining photos on his phone, each one showing her radiant smile, so different from the woman she'd become.

A sudden ringtone cut through his thoughts—Lillian Grayson's call.

"Sebastian, Adoration's been sold!" Her voice dripped with smug satisfaction. "Looks like Mrs. Kingsley is dead set on—"

He hung up and immediately dialed his assistant. "Find out where Adoration is. Buy it back at any cost!"

Every second of waiting felt like torture. When his assistant hesitantly reported that the jewelry had already been auctioned to an overseas buyer, Sebastian felt his world turn to ice.

His phone hit the floor, the screen shattering with a sharp crack. That piece was a symbol of their love—how could she bear to part with it?

Staggering to the kitchen, he dug through the trash and pulled out a box of cold mochi—her favorite dessert. Now, like her, it could never return to what it once was.

At the bottom of the bin, a SIM card glinted. Sebastian seized it like a lifeline, hands shaking as he inserted it into his phone.

A notification chimed. The sender's number was painfully familiar, but the message froze his blood:

"Annabelle Whitmore, did you really think selling Adoration would make you win? Last night, Sebastian whispered in my bed that he stopped loving you long ago~"

Sebastian's grip turned bone-white as he stared at the screen. This fabricated lie had arrived too late—she would never see it.