Billionaire, Let's Divorce! by BELLA

Sydney's POV

"So," he raised his brows, "How're things so far?"

I shrugged and took my time to respond. "Nothing much."

He suddenly wiped off his smile with a frown,, "What do you mean nothing much? Come on, give me an appropriate report on what things he has been up to since the last time we spoke. Who did he meet with? What did he eat?..."

He went on and on, listing and counting down things he wanted to hear with his fingers.

"Something like that, you know that," then he squinted his eyes, "wait, why are you stalling?"

I shrugged again "I'm not stalling. There's just really nothing much to report." Part of me felt a bit of guilt for playing dumb, but I pushed it aside. This was too important - I couldn't risk blowing my cover over a minor deception.

"Even if he shits, Sydney, you have to tell me," he gritted out, his jaw tensing with impatience.

"Alright then, he did shit this week," I said lightly.

I couldn't resist a little joke to defuse the growing tension between us.

I held back my giggle at my own response but it quickly died down when I saw his narrowed eyes and thunderous expression. Ah, so he wasn't in a humorous mood today. I made a mental note not to push any further jokes.

"Sorry." I pouted when he wouldn't stop glaring at me, running

not be frowning if you'd just tell me about his movements.

the information he was hungry for. Painting

everything I knew Tavon had been up

brought him to the garden terrace. Scarlet was busy making sure that no one could interrupt us and ended up unintentionally eavesdropping on our conversation while Bella was working on...keeping Tavon in his room." I cringed inwardly. I didn't want to dwell on

basically been frolicking around with Jessica in the mansion without any shame

his eyes sharpened and his whole demeanor

my lip, "He takes time out every day to meet with

from Axel, who else has

racking my brain. Then I said slowly, "I remember that there's another middle-aged man. I can tell he is about the same age

I mirrored his movement,

brow further and biting my lower lip in an exaggerated pantomime of struggling to remember. "I can't really recall what they call him...ah, the military adviser!"

Tavon meets with him in the conference room for several hours every day, often

in a severe angle of anger

cannot recognize any

my head sadly and

I've tried but they're

narrowed his eyes further at me, clearly displeased by this lack

this activity and strange meetings aren't important enough to report

droop as I wrapped my