Divorce my prentened poor Billionaire husband

“Sure thing, Mr. Kennedy,” Mario Wallace replied, scribbling the phone number into his notebook before pulling the office door shut. He made damn sure no one—not even that nosy, relentless Hannah—would burst in and disturb Everest Kennedy.

Everest caught sight of the black garbage bag Mario clutched, jarringly out of place against his perfectly tailored suit. With a dry, sarcastic quip, he joked, “What’s this? A new designer bag made from actual trash? That the hot new trend these days?”

Mario’s face flushed crimson, words tumbling over each other. “Mr. Kennedy, this garbage bag is actually—” He hesitated, clearing his throat. “It’s something I picked up next to the trash bin on our floor. These… these are your things, sir.”

He pulled the bag open to reveal Everest’s toothbrush, toothpaste, casual clothes—shirts, a sweater, a coat, all things Annika Price had bought him. Hell, there were even a few unopened boxes of condoms at the bottom.

Everest’s eyes went dark, his jaw clenching so hard his molars ached. “What the hell is this? Why are all my things in the trash?”

It clicked before Mario could even open his mouth. “She really threw all my stuff out?”

It wasn’t just his belongings she’d tossed. She’d scrubbed him right out of her life. A cold, sharp disdain flickered across Everest’s face. “Fine. She gets what she wants. We’re done. None of this shit matters anymore.”

Mario asked quietly, “Mr. Kennedy, what would you like me to do with all this?”

Everest tossed aside his expensive silk pajama top and pulled a dress shirt on in one smooth motion. Within seconds, he was immaculately dressed, that signature aura of authority and power rolling off him in waves.

“There’s no space in this world for a washed-up Everest Kennedy. Don’t come sniveling to me later if you mess it up.”

The hotel manager stepped in with a lavish spread of breakfast, only to be met with Everest’s sharp, biting criticism. “We host A-list, influential guests here, and this is the best you can do? A chef on a million-dollar salary can’t even cook half as good as my wife?”

Mario muttered under his breath, “Mr. Kennedy’s just being stubborn. Still calls her ‘wife’ even after they split.”

The manager was one wrong move away from tears. How could this go wrong? The chef was a world-renowned talent, poached from one of the most elite restaurants in Europe. The whole team had been prepping since four a.m. the second they heard it was for Mr. Kennedy.

He ventured gently, “Mr. Kennedy, maybe you’re just used to Mrs. Kennedy’s cooking, right? It’s your personal favorite.”

Everest’s spoon hung frozen over his plate, no appetite left at all. His mind drifted unbidden back to the memory of Annika pressing a thermos into his hands every single morning.

*“Everest, drink this while it’s still warm at the office. I added extra chicken and rice to the soup this time—it’s so good.”*

She’d picked out the best chicken from the local market, seasoned it slow, prepped it by hand. It wasn’t cheap, so she’d only bought enough for him.

Everest tried to shake the memory loose, his sharp handsome features clouding over. Why was he even pretending this didn’t get to him?

He told the manager to have the chef make something light on the stomach, reminded his secretary to bug him about taking his medication, and called the doctor in for a new prescription of something to take the edge off. At the end of the day, the world doesn’t stop spinning for anyone.

Break things off with one Annika Price? There were a hundred other women waiting in line. No big deal.

Mario reported in, “Mr. Kennedy, the international corp looking to expand domestically—Mr. Shaw just got back into town and wants to meet tonight to hash it out. They’re dying to lock in a partnership with Kennedy Enterprises.”

Everest glanced indifferently at his dead-silent phone, and tossed off the order casually: “Have Sixth Brother handle it.”

Mario blinked in surprise. Everest, the biggest workaholic this side of the country, was checking out? All because of Annika? Waiting around for her to call and beg to make up? Yeah, that didn’t sound like him.

He worked up the nerve to speak up: “Mr. Kennedy, Annika put her whole life on hold for you for three whole years, and you took such good care of her. How can it end like this? Sometimes a little fight’s just her way of getting you to pay attention. Maybe you should pick up some flowers or a nice gift to cheer her up. Women love that stuff, right?”

Everest didn’t answer. He just flipped his phone face-down on the table, like he was refusing to let it hold any more of his attention.

A couple minutes later, he asked, “What’d she do today?”

“Mrs. Kennedy got dressed up sharp and headed out. Looked like she was going to a job interview.”

Everest’s expression hardened instantly. “Who asked about her? I was asking what Selena’s up to today.”

Mario awkwardly bit his tongue. He knew damn well Everest meant Annika, but he played along anyway. “Miss Selena’s probably still sleeping off her jet lag from the trip, sir.”

“Tell the office to make arrangements,” Everest ordered, heading back toward his private room. He left Mario standing there, scratching his head over the mess.

Arrangements for what? Reschedule the meeting with Mr. Shaw for tonight? Or send Annika a gift to win her back? Oh jeez, Mr. Kennedy is impossible to read right now.

Mario had always prided himself on knowing exactly what Everest wanted, never having to ask clarifying questions. But this? This was pushing him to his limit.

He decided to cover all his bases, prep for both. After all, Everest hadn’t gotten Annika a single proper gift in three whole years. She’d probably be over the moon to get flowers from him.

This wasn’t just some fling that could get brushed off. And of course, that billion-dollar project still needed to be handled too.

Mario didn’t waste any time dialing Annika’s number…

As Everest neared the elevator, his phone rang out of the blue. He paused, turned back toward the room, just in time to hear Mario faking a florist’s voice over the line.

“Hello, Miss Price? This is Rose & Bloom Floral. Mr. Kennedy ordered a gorgeous bouquet for you. Are you available right now? Where would you like us to deliver it?”

Everest hesitated, his hand still hovering over the elevator call button. He leaned back against the doorframe, holding his breath, desperate to hear what Annika would say back.