My Billionaire Ex-Husband Wants Me Back

Catherine’s POV

I nervously nibbled on my lower lip as I paced the large expanse of the living room.

Sighing, I glanced at the wall clock and exhaled heavily when I saw the time.

It was ten minutes past nine in the evening and Alessandro was yet to come home.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Someone spoke from behind me, and I turned to face them.

The head maid of our household, Alice, grimaced as she fiddled with her fingers.

"Yes, any problem?"

"Should I place the food in the refrigerator?" She asked, and my heart cut as a bitter realization struck me.

Just like in the past, Alessandro was really going to be absent on our wedding anniversary.

It wasn't just an ordinary anniversary; it was our third marriage anniversary and according to what I read on a website some years back, three was a lucky number that signified prosperity.

Thus, I had gone over the top by preparing a variety of dishes that I was sure he liked.

Since he rarely ate at home nowadays, I had secretly called his grandmother because he usually ate there, and she had made a list of his current favorite foods for me.

Madam Anita, the heavens bless her heart was one in a million.

While my mother in law loathed my existence to the core, Madam Anita loved me like her own and would often rebuke my husband on my behalf.

Although I appreciated her effort, her reproaches never yielded results.

If anything, they worsened the sour relationship between my husband and I.

I could vividly remember how he had packed most of his belongings to where I presumed was HER place after Madam Anita gave him an earful when she found out that his first love was back in town and that they had been seeing each other for a while.

As stupid as I was, I had decided to stay, instead of leaving him after finding out about his extramarital affairs.

Damn, I was truly the most idiotic woman on earth.

My foolish self had been too desperate to remain married and had decided to keep suffering, instead of filing a divorce.

Something in me that gradually diminished as the years passed, still believed that my husband would change his ways and become the doting husband that he used to be.

"Ma'am Catherine," Alice's voice yanked me back to the brutal reality of my life.

"Y-Yeah, you were saying?" I asked, frazzled.

"I asked if I should place the dishes in the refrigerator to prevent them from going bad," She said. "The time is almost ten and he's still not back."

Suppressing the urge to burst into tears, I inhaled sharply. "Just go to bed. I will take care of it."

"I can wait here with you," She said, and I shook my head.

"No. You should sleep because you worked really hard today. I wouldn't have been able to prepare a platter of dishes if you weren't there with me." I forced out a smile which she returned, albeit, hers was sympathetic.

"You also worked hard, ma'am. I only prepared the ingredients but you made the food." She countered.

"Just go to bed, Alice," I gently pushed her out of the sitting room toward the stairs. "I can take care of the rest. I'm serious."

"Alright then, if you say so," She still seemed reluctant to leave. "Goodnight, ma'am."

"Goodnight, Alice."

And with that, she climbed the stairs and was gone.

Alice and the rest of the maids probably thought I was the dumbest person alive.

I mean, they had witnessed almost every one of mine and my husband's fight.

Even our recent fight which was the most embarrassing one ever.

Like a weak bitch, I had clung onto my husband's leg while weeping for him to stay and never leave me for his first love, Laura, when he wanted to storm out of the house.

I was truly a loser who relied on her husband too much.

But I just couldn't help it because he was the first man to ever ask me out on a date.

Throughout the nineteen years that I had spent in an orphanage, no guy had ever found me attractive.

Yes, I was an orphan.

According to what the governesses at the orphanage told me, they had found me in a box without clothes when I was barely a week old, crying my little lungs out.

I had been in my third year of medical school while he was training to be the CEO of his family's company.

A mutual friend had introduced us during a volunteer outreach.

He asked me out on a coffee date some days later and subsequently, after three weeks, we started dating.

The most foolish thing that I ever did and would continue to regret until the day I died, was dropping out of medical school to follow him from London to America.

He had told me that a new branch of his company had been established in America and he needed to be there to manage it.

It was highly unlikely that he would ever move back to London, he had divulged.

And like the asinine idiot I was, I had dropped out of medical school in a heartbeat, with the assurance that I could easily transfer to another medical school, with my high grades.

However, I was met with a hostile reality than I had expected when I discovered that I couldn't transfer to any medical school in America as their curriculum was completely different from that of my former medical school.

A year later on my twenty-first birthday, he asked me to be his wife and I happily agreed, thinking we would live happily ever after.

If only I knew that our marriage would be the start of misery, I would have never agreed to marry him and be a housewife.

The sound of footsteps approaching drifted into my ears and yanked me out of my reverie.

Before I could take a step, he stormed into the house, looking livid which made my heart cut.

"Welcome home, Alessandro," I croaked, and he scoffed before flinging a brown envelope at me.

Inhaling shakily, I picked up the envelope and gave him a confused look.

“What is this?”

“Divorce papers,” He snarled. “Sign it before tomorrow ends and leave my house, you fucking leech!”

“It’s because of Laura, isn’t it?” I kept my gaze rooted to the floor, as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“I don’t have time for your useless questions. Just sign the damn papers and leave!” He barked, before marching upstairs.

With tears rolling down my cheeks, I placed the envelope on the dining table, packed all the dishes I had prepared, and placed them in the refrigerator before cleaning the dining table.

Then, I headed upstairs to my bedroom with a myriad of thoughts assailing my mind.

I was truly done for.

Where would I go from here?

Begging him not to leave me would probably worsen his temper and cause him to throw me out of the house that night.

And I couldn’t have that because I had nowhere else to go.

I had zero dollars in my bank account and less than $50 at hand, with a rickety phone.

After his first love showed up, Alessandro started sleeping in the guest room.

He had told me that my scent disgusted him and that seeing my face whenever he woke up was irritating.

Some weeks ago, he had been intoxicated and had shared my bed, for the first time in almost three years.

Alessandro had woken up angrier than I had ever seen him and had called me a useless leech.

As if it was so wrong to have sex with his wife.

After peeling off my clothes, I stepped into the bathroom to take a shower.

However, I was extremely shocked to see Alessandro sitting on the bed, with an eerie grin plastered to his lips, when I came out of the bathroom.

"Y-You are here," I stammered, fidgeting with the straps of my bathrobe.

"Why do you look so shocked to see me?" He scoffed. "Have you forgotten that we are married?"

Wait, what was happening?

Wasn’t he the same person who hurled an envelope containing divorce papers at me?

Or was I hallucinating?

"I-I don’t understand," I stuttered out, and he huffed.

"You don’t have to,” He spat. "Come and sit on my lap."

I couldn't believe my ears. "W-What?"

Had something happened?

Why was Alessandro acting so weird?

"Fuck this," He gritted out.

Before I could make out what he meant by that, he flung me on the bed.