The Ex Wife He Could Not Buy Back
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Summary
When I filed for divorce, Damon Maxwell was playing with a scrap of lace his latest fling had sent him, a cheap, brazen gesture of affection.
He typed out the hotel room number, sent it, and then glanced at the paperwork.
“Making a big production out of it this time, aren't we, Your Majesty?”
I spoke calmly:
“I haven’t touched the accounts you set up. I’m waiving claim to the house and the cars. I’ve already sent the paperwork to your lawyer.”
He froze for a beat or two, still operating under the assumption that this was another tantrum.
“Waiving everything?”
