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No Divorce, Only Widowhood: His Possession
img img No Divorce, Only Widowhood: His Possession img Chapter 5 5
5 Chapters
Chapter 8 8 img
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 No.100 img
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Chapter 5 5

The lobby of Aurora Pictures was a cathedral of glass and steel, designed to make visitors feel insignificant. Serena walked to the reception desk, her heels clicking with a confidence she didn't feel.

"I have an appointment with Charles Chen," she told the receptionist.

The young woman behind the desk looked up. Her eyes widened slightly-recognition. Then pity.

"Mr. Chen is in a meeting," she said.

"I'll wait," Serena said.

She sat on a leather sofa in the waiting area. She waited for an hour. Then two. People bustled past-producers shouting into phones, actors clutching headshots. No one looked at her. She felt invisible.

Finally, an assistant scurried out. She didn't invite Serena back. She handed her a manila envelope.

"Mr. Chen asked me to give you this," the assistant said, avoiding eye contact. "The funding for Loving You has been placed on indefinite hold."

Serena stood up, the envelope crinkling in her grip. "What? We have a contract."

"Strategic realignment," the assistant recited. "Corporate policy."

"Is this because of the photos?" Serena demanded. "Because of the rumors?"

The assistant shrugged helplessly. "I just work here, Mrs. Sterling."

Serena stormed out of the building. The sun was high and brutal. She felt exposed. Without the Sterling seal of approval, she was toxic.

She drove to Soho House in West Hollywood. She needed a drink, or at least a friend.

Harper was waiting on the terrace, nursing a kale smoothie.

"They pulled the plug," Serena said, collapsing into the chair opposite her.

"I told you," Harper said, shaking her head. "This town has no loyalty. They smell blood in the water. Or in your case, divorce papers."

"We're not getting divorced," Serena said automatically.

"Does Julian know that?" Harper raised an eyebrow. "Look, Ren. Why are you doing this the hard way? You're married to a billionaire. Just ask him for the money. He spends more on car insurance than your budget requires."

"No," Serena said firmly. "I want this to be mine. If I take his money, it's just another thing I owe him. It's just another way I'm... kept."

...

Thirty feet away, behind a dense partition of climbing ivy, Julian Sterling stood perfectly still.

He was walking with two executives from Warner Bros, heading to his private table. As he passed the divide, the familiar cadence of her voice had stopped him cold. He had signaled the executives to continue without him and stepped closer to the greenery, hidden from view.

He listened.

"I don't want his money," Serena's voice drifted through the leaves, low and strained. "It makes me feel like a prostitute. Like I'm selling myself for lifestyle maintenance."

Julian's face went rigid. The temperature around him seemed to drop ten degrees.

He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. A prostitute. That was how she saw their marriage? That was how she saw his support?

He turned on his heel.

He didn't confront her. He didn't make a scene. He simply walked away, his stride long and furious, the words echoing in his mind like a curse.

...

"Oh my god," Harper whispered, looking over Serena's shoulder. "Ren. Don't look now."

"What?" Serena turned.

She caught a glimpse of a grey suit jacket disappearing around the corner of the building.

"Was that...?"

"That was Julian," Harper said, her eyes wide. "He looked pissed."

Serena's heart sank. She pulled out her phone and texted him.

Serena: Were you at Soho House?

No reply.

She waited five minutes. Ten.

Nothing.

She put her phone down. She felt sick. He had heard. He had heard her complaining about him, rejecting him.

"I have to fix this," she murmured. But how? She couldn't ask him for money now. It would prove his point-that she was just a gold digger.

She needed cash. Fast. Independent cash.

She looked at her purse. It was a Birkin, a gift from her father for her 21st birthday.

"Harper," Serena said slowly. "Do you still have the number for that consignment shop on Melrose?"

Harper stared at her. "You're going to sell your bags?"

"I'm going to fund my own movie," Serena said. "Whatever it takes."

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