After the CEO Divorced Me, He Wants Me Back by Riverflow

Aveline's brow furrowed slightly as she glanced at Annie, who gave her a playful wink.

"You two talk; I'll step out for a bit."

Seeing they needed privacy, Lucas turned and left the room.

Once he was gone, Aveline said, "He's not my boyfriend."

Annie burst into a smile, her cheeks dimpling with two small, charming dimples. "I know. You're upset with him right now. I've seen lots of couples act like that when they're fighting. I won't say it again." Aveline sighed.

There was no explaining this away.

Besides, there was no need to burden Annie with the details of her pending divorce from Lucas.

It would be over soon enough, so there wasn't much to discuss.

Changing the subject, Aveline said, "While you're staying here, you can go for a walk when you're feeling up to it. The environment here is quite nice. If you need anything, just ask the nurse, and if you feel unwell, call me right away." Annie nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I will, Aveline. Thank you so much."

Aveline smiled gently. "The most important thing is that you get better."

Annie suddenly moved forward and hugged her, her voice thick with emotion. "I wish we were real sisters."

like Aveline would have made her

at Aveline's heart, but she

...

ward, the faint

and unobtrusive. Lucas pushed open the door and entered. At the sight of him, the nurse greeted respectfully, "Mr. Tudor." Lucas walked in, his gaze falling

looked nothing like his former self. His face was gaunt and hollow, his body frail and shrunken, a

to a stroke, Frederick's

eyes were unfocused. When he saw Lucas enter, he immediately became

trickled from the corner of his

up a tissue and wiped the drool from Frederick's

something else, aren't you? Falling apart like this before Leo even makes it back. I'm worried

struggling to speak,

tissue into the trash and looked down at him, his eyes

sick, focus

thoughts. But one thing you can rest assured

all, he had fought tooth and nail to take it. He would, of course,

trace of warmth or compassion for the man he called father,

...