Delete My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 24

"I know I was wrong, Annabelle."

Sebastian Kingsley's voice sounded unusually low over the phone, laced with a rare hint of panic.

"I've already made Lillian get rid of the baby. She'll never appear before you again. I'll do anything you ask, as long as you can forgive me."

Annabelle Whitmore held her phone, her fingertips turning cold. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, casting dappled shadows across her pale cheeks.

"Alright, I forgive you."

Her voice was soft, almost soothing, as if speaking to a misbehaving child.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Sebastian's hurried breathing returned. "Really? Annabelle, you're willing to forgive me?"

"Mhm." She let out a light laugh. "Isn't that the answer you wanted?"

She stood and walked to the window, gazing at the blooming roses in the garden below.

"Sebastian, I forgive you. But we're over."

The line went dead silent, even his breathing vanishing.

"Annabelle—"

"Don't call me that." She cut him off. "We ended the moment you betrayed me."

After hanging up, Annabelle tossed her phone onto the sofa and turned to pack her bags. She had booked a flight to Germany for tonight—this time, she wouldn’t give him any chance to find her.

Her phone lit up again. A text from Sebastian:

[Annabelle, I bought you your favorite mochi. Remember how you always used to say...]

She deleted it after a single glance, then replied:

[I don’t like it anymore.]

After sending the message, she blocked the number without hesitation. The dessert she once loved now tasted only of bitterness—just like their love, long since soured.

Sebastian stared at his screen, fingers trembling uncontrollably. He reread her short reply, each word like a knife to his heart.

She didn’t love him anymore.

She truly didn’t.

The realization tightened his chest, making it hard to breathe. He frantically dialed her number again, only to be met with the cold automated voice: "The number you have dialed is not in service..."

Meanwhile, Lillian Grayson huddled in the corner of her rented apartment. Her eyes burned with madness as she scrolled through news articles on her phone.

"You ruined my life, Sebastian..." she muttered. "Don’t blame me for what comes next."

She opened her laptop and began compiling years' worth of evidence—tax records, bank statements, meeting minutes—each document capable of dragging the Kingsley family into ruin.

"If I can’t survive, then we’ll all burn together."

With a click, she sent the damning files to the tax authorities and major media outlets. When it was done, she collapsed onto the floor, laughing hysterically.

The sound echoed through the empty room, unbearably hollow.