Billionaire, Let's Divorce! by BELLA

Chapter 0292

"Oh!" She piped up, her eyes widening to the size of saucers,

You're back."

I held her gaze unflinchingly, deliberately refraining from responding to her startled exclamation as she likely anticipated. We remained locked in an unwavering stare for what felt like a few more seconds, and throughout that prolonged moment, try as I might, I couldn't suppress the wayward thoughts racing through my mind at breakneck speed.

Even as she continued to stare at me, her entire demeanor exuded a palpable sense of unease. Her palms were tightly curled around the torn page from Amie's drawing book.

I fixed her with a questioning gaze, my eyes darting back and forth between her face, which was etched with poorly concealed anxiety, and her balled fist, which seemed to tremble slightly under my s scrutiny. She appeared to comprehend the unspoken inquiry in my expression because she abruptly let out a nervous laugh that sounded more like a strangled hiccup. Raising her clenched fists in a gesture that was likely meant to appear casual but came across as forced.

She blurted out the most transparent lie I'd heard in recent memory, "Oh this? It's absolutely nothing."

1 arched my eyebrows skeptically, the muscles in my forehead tightening as I regarded her with mounting suspicion.

She widened her grin in response, the corners of her mouth stretching again as she reiterated, "It's nothing?"

not herself. There was definitely something

she tear it off because Amie drew me? But why

nursed the possibility that she might have just been leading me on all this while. Maybe she really didn't want me for her friend and she

just on our way here, had she just been seeing me as some fool all

keep eluding me, I decided to

Clara? Why did you tear that

lips turned downward and she finally looked away. Her

have to look at me like I just killed someone" she muttered, her voice lacking the sarcasm that was always laced to it as she unfurled

furrowed as I squinted at the vivid painting in the paper. Slowly, I walked to her and took

her.

I whispered, dismayed as I stared at the

hospital bed and someone lying on top of it. If it had just been the pencil drawing, the meaning of the drawing could have been misinterpreted but the painting she did on them

drew on the front side of the page while the back carried another painting of a person lying on a bed but with a

dropped my hand to my side and glanced at the