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.

my lips tightly and apologized in a tiny, contrite voice, "Sorry." I pouted when he wouldn't stop glaring at me, running my hand

"I would not be frowning if you'd just tell me about his movements. That's the only thing that I can hear about and

was hungry for. Painting him a picture of Tavon's daily life and routines was the only way to earn back his favor

recounting everything I knew

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 what exactly

I continued, laying out the details meticulously. "He's just basically been frolicking around with Jessica in the mansion

demeanor tensed,m. Clearly that "however" had piqued his interest in a

takes time out every

Axel, who else has

my brain. Then I said slowly, "I remember that there's another middle-aged man.

mirrored his movement, playing up an air

lower lip in an exaggerated pantomime of struggling to remember. "I can't really recall what they call him...ah, the military

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

a severe angle of anger

any

sadly and played

I've tried but

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

and strange meetings aren't important enough to

as I wrapped my