Restoring a Life After Seven Years of Wrong Love novel Chapter 157

Jabez opened the car door and slid into the back seat. Willow stared at him, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Jabez."

As if knowing exactly what she was going to ask, Jabez pulled out the divorce papers and tossed them into the center console.

Willow's gaze zeroed in on the document, clearly seeing the words 'Divorce Decree' printed on it. Her heart instantly soared with frantic joy.

She hadn't dared to provoke Yvette for an entire month, terrified that if she pushed too hard, Yvette might snap and ruin everything.

Thank goodness the divorce went smoothly.

—

Nine o'clock that evening, inside the Shelby Group headquarters.

Jabez suddenly received a call from Lena.

"Sir, Ma'am called today and said... she wants all of her belongings thrown out."

Lena's tone was cautious, testing the waters.

Her mistress had never once spoken about throwing her things away. This was the first time, and Lena already had a sinking suspicion about what it meant.

"Do it. Throw them out."

"I found a diary in the attic storage. I think it belongs to Ma'am, but I tried calling her just now and she didn't pick up."

"Wait for me." Jabez ended the call, his index finger tapping a steady rhythm against his desk.

A minute later.

He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and walked out of the office. The black Maybach tore through the pouring rain.

Half an hour later, he returned to his marital home.

Lena was waiting in the living room. Seeing him walk in, she handed the diary over. "Sir."

"Yeah."

Jabez walked upstairs to the master bedroom and stopped in the doorway.

The vanity table was completely bare. All of her skincare products were gone.

He shut the door, turned, and went into his study. Sitting down in his leather desk chair, he switched on the small desk lamp.

The dim light washed over the dark wood.

The diary was pink and clearly quite old, but the owner had obviously cherished it—there wasn't a single stain or scratch on the cover.

He flipped it open.

The handwriting was neat and elegant. The ink had faded slightly over the years, but it was still perfectly legible.

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