The Ex Wife He Could Not Buy Back
Language: en
When I filed for divorce, Damon Maxwell was playing with a scrap of lace his latest fling had sent him, a cheap, brazen gesture of affection. He typed out the hotel room number, sent it, and then glanced at the paperwork. “Making a big production out of it this time, aren't we, Your Majesty?” I spoke calmly: “I haven’t touched the accounts you set up. I’m waiving claim to the house and the cars. I’ve already sent the paperwork to your lawyer.” He froze for a beat or two, still operating under the assumption that this was another tantrum. “Waiving everything?” “Then what do you want,…