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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 5

5

~Velma's POV

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed. A metal cuff circled my wrist, chaining me to the rail. Panic rushed through me.

"Why... why am I handcuffed? What did I do?" I whispered.

A doctor walked toward me with a clipboard. "Please calm down, ma'am. You were extremely exhausted and dehydrated. You collapsed."

He turned and spoke to someone behind him.

And then I saw him.

A tall man stood there, broad-shouldered, sharp jaw, dark eyes that looked like they could cut through steel. His presence filled the room like authority itself. Even through the haze of fear and dizziness, I couldn't ignore how striking he was. His hair was dark, perfectly styled, and a few rebellious strands fell over his forehead, giving him an untamed edge. His skin was flawless, with that kind of warm golden tone that caught the light just right.

The lines of his face were sharp but balanced, a dangerous kind of beauty that made my heart skip a beat despite everything. His lips were full, firm, and just slightly curved, as if he was always holding back a smirk that could either charm or terrify. Even in the serious, cold way he moved, there was a magnetic elegance, a presence that made the air around him feel heavy, almost alive.

I tried to look away, tried to focus on anything else, but I couldn't. There was something in the way he held himself, calm, confident, untouchable, that made me realize he wasn't just beautiful, he was dangerous beauty. And somehow, that made me both terrified and... unreasonably drawn to him.

The doctor said, "Mr. Theron, she is awake now."

He finally looked at me, his voice deep and calm, but annoyed.

"You bumped into me at the airport and passed out," he said. "I had to bring you here."

My cheeks burned in embarrassment. "I'm sorry... I did not mean to..."

He crossed his arms. "Well, because of that, I missed my flight. So you will take responsibility."

My mouth fell open.

"What... what does that even mean?"

He stepped closer, eyes fixed on mine.

"It means," he said slowly, "you owe me."

And my heart stopped, because I had nothing left to give.

I pressed my face against the pillow of the hospital bed, trying to make sense of anything. My chest heaved from exhaustion, and my hands clutched the thin blanket around me. I swallowed shakily, whispering, "I... I have no way to repay anyone. I. I don't...."

Theron's eyes snapped to mine. Dark, sharp, piercing. They cut through every word I said. He leaned against the edge of the bed like he owned the room, his expression calm but wicked, the kind that made my stomach twist.

"Look!" he said, voice low and dangerous. "You passed out, yes. But from what I see... You don't look that useless at all."

I froze. My stomach knotted. "...What do you mean?" I whispered, voice trembling as I hugged myself closer to my chest.

He straightened slightly, stepping closer, and let his gaze roam over me slowly, deliberately, like he was inspecting me. "From head to toe... you're not bad. Actually... you'll make a good fit."

I jerked upright, pressing my hands tighter against myself. "...A good fit? What do you mean by that?" I asked, voice sharp now, panic mixing with confusion.

He didn't answer. He simply turned his head slightly and barked an order at the security standing near the door. The man's eyes flicked to me, and he started moving toward the bed.

I pressed my hands to my chest, trembling as the guard stepped closer. "No! Wait! I..." My voice cracked, panic rising like a storm inside me. "...I passed out! I didn't do anything! You can't..."

My wrists were still sore from the cuffs, and I flinched, unsure of what he wanted. But then, with a swift motion, he uncuffed me. Relief washed over me so suddenly that I nearly sagged against the hospital bed. I let out a shaky sigh, my fingers rubbing the marks on my wrists.

I slowly stood, trying to steady myself, and my eyes found him, Theron. My chest tightened. I had so many thoughts racing, but the first thing that slipped out was an apology. "I... I'm sorry for making you miss your flight," I said softly, my voice almost breaking. "And... how much is the medical bill? I'll repay you."

He turned to me, a wicked, almost mischievous smile curling his lips. He laughed, a low, dangerous sound that made my stomach flutter nervously. "I already cleared it," he said simply, his eyes glinting. "You're useful to me."

I blinked, confusion and unease battling inside me. Useful? What did he mean by that? Before I could ask, a sleek black limousine pulled up outside the hospital, its engine purring like a predator ready to pounce. The driver emerged, bowing politely to Theron before opening the rear door.

Theron glanced at me. "Get in."

My eyes widened in shock. "I... I can't. I..." I tried to back away, panic rising.

He moved faster than I expected, his hand firm on my elbow. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "Come on."

Before I could protest further, he guided me into the car. My hands clutched the seat, knuckles white, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I finally forced myself to whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine, "Where... where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough," he replied, eyes forward, unreadable.

The ride felt endless, my mind spinning with questions. I stared out the window, heart hammering, until finally, the car stopped. I looked around, and my jaw dropped. We were in front of a massive building, sleek and modern. A sign glinted in gold letters: a fashion house, far larger and more luxurious than anything I had ever seen, and that was because I barely go out back home.

Theron stepped out first, then turned to me. "You too," he said, offering a hand to guide me. I hesitated, my instincts screaming to run, but he didn't let go. His grip was firm but not cruel, and against my better judgment, I allowed him to lead me inside.

The interior was breathtaking. Everywhere I looked, there were units filled with clothes, jewelry, makeup, and accessories. The space was huge, with high ceilings, polished floors reflecting soft golden lights. I felt like I had stepped into another world.

Two attendants appeared, bowing respectfully to him. Theron waved them toward me. "Dress her. Make her gorgeous," he ordered casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I froze, my mouth falling open. "What... what do you mean?" I stammered.

"Just let them perform their wonders on you," he said.

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