My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 285

After getting ready, she went downstairs. Just like yesterday, Lionel had made breakfast and was waiting for her at the table.

Hannah didn’t even spare him a glance. With a happy smile, she walked right past him, got in her car, and drove off to get breakfast somewhere else.

Work had been slow lately, giving the office staff plenty of time to gossip. The conversation drifted from Sandra deleting her public apology overnight to sightings of her on another blind date, before finally settling on new designer handbags.

Hannah found herself curious. Sandra had been quiet for a few days, and she’d expected Lionel to have forced her into some kind of humiliating consequence. It seemed he was all bark and no bite, still unable to let his precious Sandra suffer in the slightest.

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Sandra’s room was in a state of chaos.

“Are you two insane?” she screamed at her parents. “I have a broken leg and I’m in a wheelchair, and you’re still trying to force me into blind dates? Is this how low you’ll sink to sell your own daughter? Are you even human?”

Just yesterday, while she’d been trying to figure out her next move, her mother had come in, all sweet and concerned, which had immediately set off alarm bells. When she asked what was going on, her mother had simply said she’d bought a new cake and wanted to share it. Before she could refuse, she was wheeled downstairs—right into an ambush with a prospective suitor.

She had erupted in fury, screaming at the man until he fled in terror. Her parents, of course, had berated her for it. She thought that would be the end of it, but now her mother was back, trying to set her up again.

“Are you still dreaming of being Mrs. Rosenberg?” her mother retorted. “If Lionel really loved you, would he have made you post that apology? Would he have stayed away? Would he have pulled the plug on all our business projects?”

“Ms. Green, it’s a pleasure,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Samuel’s uncle, Peter.”

Seeing her again, he was struck by how much she resembled his sister. It was as if they were cast from the same mold.

“Mr. Temple,” Hannah replied, shaking his hand. “Your nephew said you wanted to see me about something. What is it?”

Impressed by her directness, Peter didn’t beat around the bush. He slid a file across the table toward her.