Billionaire, Let's Divorce! by BELLA

AIDEN

Overtime, Amie's case garnered lots of media attention. Every news channel had a picture of the poor girl as they talked about her unfair death and how everyone responsible must be punished accordingly.

In the midst of it all, the spotlight shifted from Amie to Sharon and I. Somehow, words had got out about our marriage and her fake pregnancy.

I began to receive phone calls from several unknown numbers, calling to ask ridiculous questions all in the quest of getting information directly from the source. I had to switch the SIM card on my phone with the one with my assistant. If there was any information, he could just pass it through. I was done dealing with those incessant calls.

When Sharon had gotten better and she had to be returned to the police station, they arrived at the station to a swarm of reporters at the entrance.

The police guarded her side as they led her inside, but that didn't stop the reporters from shouting their questions;

"Did you really fake a pregnancy, Mrs Aiden?"

"Mrs Sharon, are you still a married woman?"

"Where's your husband? Does he still love you?"

"Will there be a divorce?"

"Were you really involved in Amie Dennis' death?"

"Did you cheat on your husband with one of the kidnappers?"

her head down, her hair long enough to cover the sides of her face from any

I watched her, I assumed that she was crying and regretting her actions. But she had gone too

Night and day, there

of them went as far as knocking on my door and windows. And even at that, so e if them still lurked around, pretending to be passersby or driving

was more between them than their attempt to defraud him and initiate him in some cult as I'd heard from the detective. The relief on his face when their judgement was passed made me despise him a little less. He knew it

Justin was until I remembered that he said he'd gotten him a nanny. I just hoped he got a

rang and I picked it

around now, you can come out," one of the security outside said

as I grabbed my car keys and made my way

he said, there were no clicking cameras or

filled with a security team, followed me as

of Sharon's trial. The day for her to also get her

called to plead, to yell, but I'd made up my mind. She has to pay for all

the parking lot and made my way to the

the crowd at the entrance of

me and they rushed forward, cameras clicking, phone and speakers and microphones tucked my way.

still

feel

why Mrs

as I struggled

back, everyone, stay