My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 3

Watching Lionel’s retreating back, Hannah swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat and headed for the parking garage.

She drove back to the house they shared—a house Lionel rarely returned to, and when he did, he slept in the guest room.-

Hannah pulled a suitcase from a closet and began packing a few sets of clothes she’d bought with her own money, some toiletries, her laptop, and all her important documents.

As she dragged the suitcase out, her eyes fell on the wedding photo hanging above the bed. It was their only picture together.

She had rented a wedding dress for the occasion, caught Lionel during a rare free moment, and asked someone to take the photo for them.

In it, she was holding a bouquet, her smile radiant, full of dreams for a beautiful life together.

The brighter the smile then, the deeper the ache now.

Hannah climbed onto the mattress, took down the frame, and pulled out the photo. Expressionless, she tore it into shreds and threw the pieces into the trash can.

“Ma’am, Mr. Rosenberg is back. He’s asking for you downstairs.”

Just as she finished, she heard the housekeeper call from the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay. Please take out the trash,” Hannah replied, heading downstairs.

In the living room, Lionel tossed a manila envelope onto the coffee table.

“This is a case Sandra was handling. It’s not finished. You take over and wrap it up.”

Hannah glanced at the envelope. “I have a divorce case I’m dealing with. I can’t help. Let her apprentice do it.”

Lionel loosened his tie, not looking surprised in the least. “Postpone your case. If her apprentice was capable enough, would she have specifically asked for you?”

“That’s her problem, not mine.”

Lionel’s gaze turned icy. “Hannah, I was just complimenting your performance at the hospital, and now you’re getting difficult? Fine. Name your price. What will it take for you to help?”

Her unwavering gaze made his chest tighten, his breathing growing heavy. He released her abruptly and, without another word, turned and walked away.

Hannah’s eyes looked past the torrential rain, fixing on his rapidly departing figure. Her heart clenched violently, a wave of anguish washing over her.

She dug her nails into her palms and sank onto the sofa.

“Ma’am, this…” The housekeeper came downstairs, holding the trash bag full of the shredded wedding photo, unsure of what to do.

Hannah’s gaze, heavy and dull, fell on the bag. “Throw it out,” she said through gritted teeth. “Take it out right now.”

The housekeeper nodded.

After composing herself for a few moments, Hannah carried her suitcase downstairs. Ignoring the manila envelope on the table, she walked out into the rain and drove to a hotel.

In this city, this house was the only home she had. Now that she had left, she was homeless once again.