The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption (by Claire Winters) novel Chapter 33

33 A Scumbag’s Late Conscience

The shrill sound of my phone ringing cut through my morning routine. Glancing at the screen, I braced myself as Tanya’s name flashed.

“How dare you?” Her voice exploded before I could speak. “Calling Alistair directly? Harassing him at work?”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, counting silently to three. “If asking my legal husband to sign divorce papers is harassment, then yes, I’m guilty.”

“He’s dealing with enough stress taking care of Ivy! You’re being selfish and cruel.”

The irony was almost laughable. “Tell Alistair to meet me at the Civil Affairs Bureau tomorrow at

nine. No more excuses.”

“You heartless-‘

”

“Goodbye, Tanya.” I hung up, cutting off what would surely be another tirade about my lack of

compassion.

My phone rang again immediately. This time, it was Alistair’s number. I considered ignoring it but decided against it. Better to get this over with.

“What now?” I answered flatly.

“Hazel.” His voice was soft, conciliatory. “I’m sorry about missing our appointment yesterday.”

“Save it. Just be there tomorrow.”

He sighed heavily. “I can’t. Something’s come up a business trip I can’t postpone. I’ll be away for

the next two weeks.”

The convenient timing made my blood boil. “How surprising. Another emergency just when we’re supposed to finalize our divorce.”

“It’s not like that.” His tone shifted to defensive. “This deal has been in the works for months.

The investors from Milan insist I come personally.”

“Bullshit.” My voice was steady despite my rage. “You’ve been avoiding this divorce for weeks. What are you playing at, Alistair?”

Silence stretched between us. Then: “I’ve been thinking, Hazel. Maybe we rushed into this

separation.”

I nearly choked. “Rushed? You canceled our wedding to marry my dying stepsister. What part of that was rushed?”

“I know how it looks, but-”

10:20

1/4

<

33 A Scumbag’s Late Conscience

“It looks exactly like what it is,” I snapped. “You made your choice. Now face the consequences.”

He was quiet for a moment before changing tactics. “I want you to have the villa.”

The sudden offer caught me off guard. “What?”

“Our home. I’m signing it over to you. It’s the least I can do after… everything.”

By mid–afternoon, a courier arrived with the property transfer papers. Everything appeared

<

33 A Scumbag’s Late Conscience

legitimate, with Alistair’s signature already in place. I read through each page carefully, looking for the catch, the hidden clause, the trick.

There wasn’t one.

The house would be mine free and clear. The one thing I’d feared losing in our separation was now securely mine.

I signed the documents but couldn’t shake the bitterness. This gesture didn’t erase his betrayal. It didn’t compensate for the humiliation of being replaced by my own stepsister. It didn’t heal the wounds of watching them wear my wedding attire or celebrate in the venue I’d chosen.

It was too little, too late–a scumbag’s late conscience trying to buy peace.

I called the Civil Affairs Bureau to reschedule our appointment for two weeks later. The clerk’s sympathetic tone only heightened my frustration. How many abandoned brides had she seen, waiting for husbands who never showed?

“I understand,” she said kindly. “The new appointment is set for July 15th at nine AM. Both parties must be present.”

“He’ll be there,” I said, more to convince myself than her.

After hanging up, I grabbed my jacket, needing to escape these walls and my circular thoughts. My phone buzzed with a text from Vera.

“Meeting canceled! Free for lunch? I’m craving that new fusion place on Maple Street.”

I texted back immediately: “Yes. Meet you there in 30.”

Vera was exactly what I needed–someone who saw Alistair clearly for who he was, someone who wouldn’t be swayed by grand gestures or smooth words.

As I grabbed my purse, my eyes fell on the signed property papers. The villa was mine, but freedom from Alistair remained frustratingly out of reach. Two more weeks of limbo. Two more weeks of being legally bound to a man who discarded me without hesitation.

But soon, I promised myself, stepping out into the sunshine. Soon I would be free of Alistair Everett and all the pain he represented. I just had to endure a little longer.