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Divorced and Remarried:Desired by Two Billionaires  Novel Cover

Divorced and Remarried:Desired by Two Billionaires

Velma spent ten years as Dylan's wife, enduring his mother's cruelty and constant reminders that she was barren-an orphan who didn't deserve him. When she finally became pregnant after a decade of trying, everything fell apart. Forced to sign divorce papers, heartbroken and pregnant, Velma disappeared. Five years later, she returned as the world's most famous artist. By her side: Theron, a patient and wealthy man who helped her rebuild her life, and the son Dylan never knew existed. She came back for an art exhibition, but fate forced her to work at Dylan's fashion company. The moment Dylan saw her, everything changed. She was no longer the quiet, broken woman he'd divorced. She was confident, powerful, radiant-and married to another man. Dylan groveled. He begged. He humbled himself in ways he never imagined, willing to do anything to reclaim the wife he'd lost for a second chance. But Velma was no longer the woman who lived in anyone's shadow. Will she forgive the man who broke her heart? Choose the man who rebuilt her? Or rewrite the rules and have them both? Click to find out... This is a why choose when she can have both book.
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Chapter 2

~Velma's POV

The ride to the police station was about five minutes, but it felt like five hours.

When we arrived, I bolted from the car and ran toward the station. One of the officers led me to a room, and my eyes immediately found Dylan... and then Eva, my sister, the real child of my adoptive parents.

Relief crashed over me for a moment, but it shattered instantly. She was there, cheeks wet with tears, looking at Dylan.

"What... what is she doing here?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "What's going on, Dylan?"

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply like he was trying to shake off some heavy weight. "Velma... you know I'm a public figure. I have a reputation to protect. I have to make sure no one is above the law, even my family," he said, his voice calm. His eyes didn't leave mine, but there was something distant in them like it had always been.

My mind went blank for a moment, my pulse thundering in my ears. "What... what are you saying, Dylan?" I asked, my voice shaking even though I tried to steady it.

"Eva... she drank too much and drove the car," he continued, like it was nothing, like he was stating the weather. "She hit a woman's stall and destroyed it. So, I want you to take the fall for her. I'll do my best to make sure you're on probation, and nothing worse happens."

I froze. My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms without me even realising. My knees felt weak, and the world seemed to spin around me. "You... you want me to take the blame? For something she did?" I whispered, my voice trembling, panic and anger twisting into a bitter knot in my stomach."

He stepped closer, looming over me. "Velma," he said, low and commanding, "she's about to open her own gallery and attend her first art exhibition, which is in collaboration with my company. If this scandal comes out, it could ruin her forever and also affect me. You have to do this. For her, for me... for everyone."

My voice cracked, and my eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. "Did you even yourself? I'm your wife... and why would you even think I'd do that?"

He stepped closer, his presence heavy and suffocating. "Yes... You're my wife. You need to protect our life, our reputation. You'll handle this. And you will do it."

My breath caught in my chest. I stared at him, stunned. "What... what do you mean I will?" My voice shook, the words barely escaping my lips. "Dylan, I didn't do anything. I wasn't even there."

He didn't blink. "You don't need to be there. The story is already arranged. You were driving. You lost control. The woman understands. She will cooperate. Everything will be handled." He spoke like everything was already decided, like my life was a formality.

"What?!"

"Dylan, no," I whispered, almost choking on my own breath. "I can't do that. I didn't cause the accident. I wasn't even there. How do you expect me to..."

"You won't be going to jail," he cut in quietly, almost bored. "There just needs to be someone responsible. That's all. They'll file the report, the woman will cooperate, and it'll be over."

Over.

Like it was a stain he could wipe off his shirt.

My throat tightened. "I won't do it. I can't. Please don't ask me to do something like this."

He finally looked at me then, really looked, and something cold flickered in his eyes.

"If you don't accept," he said, "I'll divorce you."

I felt the floor tilt.

He continued talking, voice flat, like he was reminding me of a bill he'd already paid. "You're not contributing financially to this family. You haven't given me a child. You are just a defect. The least you can do is make this sacrifice."

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

"You... you can't mean that," I managed, barely audible.

"I do." He said with no hesitation.

Then he turned to the officer nearby, slid an arm around my shoulders like I was a loyal, supportive wife, and said, "She'll be at the station tomorrow morning to write her statement. We'll sort out everything."

The officer nodded, not even glancing at my face.

I couldn't speak. Even the news I had come to share with him wasn't just pushed aside... it vanished entirely from my mind. It didn't matter anymore. Not beside this.

Dylan took my hand without asking, pulled me gently but firmly, and called to Eva. "Come on."

He placed Eva in a cab first, told the driver her address, and shut the door like he was done with that chapter of the evening.

Then he led me to the car.

I didn't say a single word on the drive home. I couldn't. I think he tried to look at me once or twice, but when I didn't respond, he stopped trying.

When we reached home, the silence followed us inside.

We walked to our room like two strangers wearing the skins of a married couple. I sat on the edge of the bed. He stood a few steps away, studying me.

But nothing came out.

My chest heaved, each breath sharp and painful, and I felt the weight of the world crushing down on me. My eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall, but the shock, the humiliation, it was too much. My voice shook as I finally managed to speak, words tumbling out in broken fragments.

"I... I won't do it, Dylan," I said, my chest tight, my voice rising, thick with disbelief. "I will not take the blame for something Eva did. She... she should pay for her sins herself."

"Velma!" His voice thundered, making me flinch. "Don't tell me... you're just jealous of your sister? You want to ruin her life when you could actually help her! You're jealous because you do nothing, nothing at all, but you sit there and enjoy all the benefits that come with being my wife! And can you for once be useful, you this barren woman?!" He shoved his hands into his pockets, pacing slightly, then slammed a fist onto the edge of the table nearby.

I shook my head violently, despite the tremor in my legs. My hands clutched my stomach instinctively.

"No. No, Dylan. I... I can't. I won't. You can't... You can't just tell me to ruin my life for her. How could you even think that I would?" My voice trembled, breaking in half.

I swallowed hard, the taste of salt already on my tongue as tears blurred everything in front of me. "I've always danced to your tunes!" The words scraped out of me before I could stop them. "But this will be different."

My voice rose without my permission, trembling, breaking... filling the room anyway.

I sat there for a second, breathing like someone had punched the wind out of me. Then I just... gave up. I pulled the duvet over myself, curled into the smallest version of me, and let the sobs come in quiet, shaky waves.

I cried until my eyes ached, until my chest hurt, until sleep finally dragged me under.

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