My Billionaire Husband Thought Divorce Was Just Another Deal 00

beneath the awning, adjusting Rose’s blanket before stepping toward the curb.

A black town car idled nearby.

The rear window lowered.

Richard Hartwell sat inside, dry and composed, his face half-shadowed.

“Clara,” he said, “a word.”

I almost kept walking.

Then he lifted a small envelope between two fingers.

“Your mother wanted you to have this.”

I froze.

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