Divorced the CEO Who Broke Me Now He Begs on His Knees

"Doris, just stay home and be Mrs. Gilbert like you're supposed to. As for your mother, I'll add more money for her treatment!"

I laughed—a cold, mocking sound.

The doctor happened to walk in to change my bandages. Hearing Julian's words, confusion spread across his face.

"Mr. Gilbert, your wife's mother passed away three days ago. Did you not know?"

Julian froze as if struck by lightning.

I just smiled, calm as still water.

"I already told you. I don't want your money. I want a divorce."

Something in my eyes must have cut him, that quiet finality.

He shot to his feet, so rattled his voice shook.

"I will never divorce you. The only way this marriage ends is if one of us dies!"

"Doris, just focus on recovering and the baby. I'll come see you in a few days."

I didn't ask him to stay. I just watched him leave, my face blank.

When I finally dragged myself to the funeral home to arrange Mom's burial, I couldn't even claim her body.

It was almost funny. Five years as Mrs. Gilbert, and I couldn't scrape together five hundred dollars for cremation.

I turned to leave the hospital and ran straight into Eve.

She smiled at me, eyes glittering with mockery.

"Well, well, the old hag. I hear you're pregnant? What a coincidence—I just found out I am too!"

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

Her gaze flicked to the morgue behind me. Her smile widened.

"A piece of trash who can't even afford to bury her own mother, still clinging to the title of Mrs. Gilbert!"

I laughed too—until the tears came.

She didn't know. I'd stopped wanting that title a long time ago.

To earn enough for the burial, I took a job as a waitress on a yacht.

That night, I arrived at the marina as scheduled—and the sight in front of me stopped me cold.

On the deck, Julian held Eve in his arms, his face soft with tenderness, accepting congratulations from the crowd.

To celebrate their hundredth day together, he'd arranged a fireworks show.

Explosions of color filled the sky as they embraced.

And me? Mrs. Gilbert was hiding in the shadows, face expressionless, handing champagne glasses to passing guests.

I'd tried to stay out of sight. It wasn't enough. Julian spotted me anyway.

Our eyes met. His filled with disgust.

Eve clapped a hand over her mouth in theatrical shock.

"Mrs. Gilbert! What are you doing here?"

"Dressed like that—are you trying to humiliate Mr. Gilbert in public so you can squeeze money out of him?"

I ignored her taunts and turned to leave, but someone grabbed my wrist.

Julian was barely containing his rage.

"Haven't you caused enough trouble? I told you to stay home and be Mrs. Gilbert!"

I wrenched free, my stare ice-cold.

"Mr. Gilbert, I'm just trying to earn enough to bury my mother. Is that a problem for you too?"

Disappointment flooded his eyes. He waved his hand, and someone emerged from the cabin carrying an urn.

"Drop the act. I had my assistant notify you—your mother's arrangements are already taken care of. What burial costs could you possibly need?"

Before he finished speaking, Eve took the urn and walked toward me.

As she got close, she pretended to stumble—and slammed it against the deck.

"No!"

I screamed and lunged forward, but I was too late.

The urn hit the ground and split in two.

A gust of sea wind swept through. The ashes scattered everywhere.

I scrambled on my hands and knees, grabbing at nothing, catching nothing.

It felt like something inside my chest was being ripped apart. The pain was blinding.

My eyes burned red as I stared at Eve.

"Why? Why won't you even let her rest in peace?"

She just giggled, sweet as poison.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Doris. It was an accident!"

I couldn't hold back anymore. I threw myself at her, ready to slap her across the face.

But before I could touch her, someone grabbed my collar and yanked me back.

Julian's eyes were full of venom as he slapped me hard.

"Enough! It's just a pile of ash—gone is gone!"

"Eve already apologized to you. What more do you want?"

"Look at yourself. Who is this pathetic act for?"

He tore open my collar and tossed me onto the deck like garbage.

"Lock her up. No one lets her out without my order."

I lay there, clothes torn, barely covering me. But he didn't look back. He just lifted Eve into his arms and walked away.

He didn't turn around, so he didn't see the men dragging me into the cabin, grins spreading across their faces.

My wounds tore open. My fingernails ripped back. I left a trail of blood across the deck.

Three days later, the yacht docked.

As they prepared to disembark, Julian finally remembered me.

He frowned, a mocking smile curling his lips.

"Go bring Doris out. She's coming home with me."

"A few days locked up should've taught her a lesson. Tell her to stop making trouble."

The next moment, Godfrey dropped to his knees at Julian's feet, face white, voice shaking.

"Sir, your wife—she can't come back. She jumped overboard three days ago."