Delete My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 19

Sebastian Kingsley carefully placed the divorce papers into the safe, only to yank them out the next second. The documents trembled slightly in his grip, their edges frayed from repeated handling.

"Annabelle..." His murmur was barely audible as his thumb brushed over the delicate signature on the page.

When his assistant entered, he found an uncharacteristic sight—the usually decisive CEO of Prosperity Group curled up in his office chair like a lost child, clutching the divorce agreement to his chest.

"Mr. Kingsley, the board is—"

"Get out."

The assistant retreated without another word. Only then did Sebastian unclench his fist, revealing crescent-shaped marks where his nails had dug into his palm.

He laughed then—a bitter, hollow sound.

Who would have thought the formidable leader of Prosperity Group would be reduced to clinging to divorce papers just to feel close to his wife?

His phone lit up with a message from Lillian Grayson. Without reading it, he blocked her immediately. That woman wasn’t worth another thought.

Sunlight streamed through the window, glinting off the Adoration necklace on his desk—a cruel irony for what was once a symbol of their love.

"Annabelle... Where are you?"

Prosperity Group’s stocks had plummeted for a week straight. The shippers who once adored them now led the charge of outrage. The company’s social media was flooded with condemnation, and even the Adoration jewelry line faced boycotts.

Sebastian didn’t care. He just wanted to find her.

"Put out a reward—one million for any lead on Annabelle Whitmore’s whereabouts," he ordered over the phone. "No, make it ten million. As long as the information is credible."

Hanging up, he slumped back in his chair. His reflection in the glass wall showed a man who had aged a decade in just a month.

Then, an alert popped up on his computer—a photo from an unknown account.

A woman in sunglasses stood on a Parisian street. Though only half her face was visible, Sebastian recognized her instantly.

Annabelle.

He shot to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. Hands shaking, he dialed his assistant. "Prepare the jet. I’m leaving for Paris. Now."

Meanwhile, Annabelle sat at a café along the Seine. She removed her sunglasses, gazing absently at the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

"Your coffee, miss," the waiter said softly as he set down her cup.

"Thank you." She offered a faint smile, though her eyes were rimmed with red.

The waiter hesitated before asking, "Are you alright?"

Annabelle shook her head and slipped her sunglasses back on. Behind the dark lenses, tears streamed down her face.

She had no way of knowing that at this very moment, Sebastian was hurtling toward her at 30,000 feet.