From Divorced Wife To The Top Heiress novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Stella Hale was finally divorced three years after giving a portion of her liver to Dylan Ashford.

She left him because Eliana Lambert, Dylan’s “the one who got away,” was back with his child.

The air still thick with the scent of their passion, the room was warm.

Stella sat on the bed, the sheets wrapped tightly around her.

Despite the warmth in the room, a deep, bone–chilling cold had settled within her.

Just minutes ago, the man before her had taken her with a roughness that bordered on cruelty, in ways meant to humiliate.

Her body bore the evidence of his disregard—a map of aches and marks.

Dylan had held back nothing, leaving her sore and raw.

After a long silence, Stella gathered her courage and looked at him, a fragile hope in her eyes. “This time… it was because you wanted to? Not just an accident, right, Dylan?”

Dylan, who was fastening his shirt cuffs, paused. Meeting her searching gaze, he replied with a mocking sneer, “Does it matter? You always seemed to enjoy it, Stella.”

A predatory grin touched his lips as he leaned down, his teeth grazing the soft shell of her ear once more.

The only thing he had in mind was, ‘So soft. And she always smells so damn good.‘

Letting out a gasp of pain, Stella bit her lower lip hard, glaring at him.

Dylan didn’t love her. In three years of marriage, this was only their second time.

“I didn’t enjoy it.” Her voice was cold, though her lashes trembled, betraying the heartache she couldn’t fully suppress.

Dylan let out a short, cold laugh. His hand shot out, long fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

The afterglow of their intense encounter still colored her cheeks a faint pink, making her look utterly tempting.

Dylan’s tone was deliberately crude. “Still saving yourself for that other man, Stella? Too bad. You’ve already borne my child. Even if it died, you’re still my woman.”

The pain in Stella’s heart sharpened as she screamed inwardly, “That man was you!‘

But Dylan had his beloved Eliana. Back when he and Stella agreed to a marriage of convenience, she had fabricated that story to save her pride.

Mention of the child was a fresh agony, tearing at her insides.

Stella was stunned that Dylan felt nothing. He could speak of their child’s death so lightly.

Her silence seemed to confirm his assumption for him.

His deep, inscrutable eyes regarded her coldly, the lingering desire adding a dangerous glint.

“Stella,” he stated, his voice flat. “Eliana is back. She gave me a son. We’re getting a divorce.”

A genuine, warm smile touched his eyes at the mention of his son.

Countless thunderclaps seemed to explode in Stella’s mind. The warmth in Dylan’s eyes felt like a blade, slicing her open.

In that moment, she understood the true depth of his ruthlessness. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

She regretted it, deeply regretted ever marrying this man.

She had thought three years by his side might melt his icy heart. Instead, she was the one left shattered and scarred.

The realization finally crystalized in Stella’s mind: ‘A man who doesn’t love you will never care about your pain!

She agreed to the divorce.

Stella hadn’t just learned of Eliana’s return that day. Eliana had been back for two months. Dylan had installed her and the child in a villa on the outskirts of the city.

Stella had seen the child. If her own baby had lived, it would be about the same age.

Thinking of her baby, Stella blinked rapidly, but the tears fell anyway.

Eliana had been bombarding her with pictures of their happy little family, each one a fresh torment.

Eliana: [Look, Stella. You might occupy the title of Mrs. Ashford, but Dylan’s heart is with me. See our son? He looks just like Dylan.]

Eliana: [How much longer will you cling to that position, you shameless woman? You seduced him when I was gone. Do you want my child to grow up without a father?]

For two months, messages like these had flooded Stella’s phone daily.

Every word was a needle, piercing deeper into her heart.

Stella had endured, said nothing, waiting to see how Dylan would handle it.

Now he had finally spoken, and he was asking for a divorce.

Stella’s eyes changed then, losing their former gentleness, turning resolute.

She watched as Dylan pulled a prepared divorce agreement from the drawer and tossed it onto the bedside table.

His lips, so often cruel, parted. “Sign it, Stella. You helped me build the company from the ground up. What I’m giving you is what you deserve. Sign this, and we’re even.”

Wrapped in the sheet, Stella stood, her legs still unsteady. Ignoring the discomfort, she knelt, picked up the pen, her gaze decisive. “Fine. I’ll sign.”

Hearing those serval words-“I’ll sign“-a strange, dangerous light flickered deep in Dylan’s eyes.

“See? If you’d been this sensible sooner, you could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble,” he said, that familiar, taunting smirk back on his handsome face.

Once done, Stella stood. Her star–bright eyes, usually so warm, were now icy. “Dylan, from this moment on, I’m taking back everything I ever gave you, every bit of care, every kindness.”

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