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 hair

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

there were always reporters crowded either at my company, waiting for me or

to get security when some 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 past, hoping to catch a glimpse

mostly on the lady among them, which made me wonder if there was more between them than their attempt to defraud him and initiate him in some cult as I'd heard from the detective.

I had first wondered where Justin was until I remembered that he said he'd gotten him a nanny. I just hoped he got a trusted

phone rang and I picked it

come

as I grabbed my car keys

clicking cameras or probing eyes till I

filled with a security team, followed me as i

day of Sharon's trial. The day

called to plead, to yell, but I'd made

parked my car in the parking lot and made

breath when I noticed the crowd at the entrance of the court. The

also noticed me and they rushed forward, cameras clicking, phone and speakers and microphones tucked my way. In no time, I was swarmed. "What do you have to say

you still love

you feel about her

sterile, Mr Aiden? Is that why Mrs Aiden felt the

tight as

everyone,