Divorce Failed My Wife's Secret Identities Shock the World novel Chapter 5

Maeve had been brought to the police station less than an hour when Andres showed up in person to post bail for her.

The desk officer looked up from his paperwork. "Mr. White, you're sure you want to settle privately with the instigator?"

Andres glanced at Maeve—not a scratch on her—and answered with a clipped, "Yeah."

The investigator looked pained. "The preliminary estimate for damages to your hotel is over a million…"

Maeve twirled a pen between her fingers like she was killing time in a lecture. "Whatever it costs, go bill my husband."

Andres's brow gave a faint, involuntary twitch. The way he looked at her shifted—sharper, more measured.

Once the paperwork was done, the two of them stepped into the elevator, one after the other.

Andres moved fast, crowding Maeve back until she was boxed into a corner. "The mess you made—who's cleaning it up?"

He had to be at least six-two. With the distance between them suddenly gone, the air itself seemed to press down on Maeve's chest.

He wasn't just unfairly good-looking—his presence carried the kind of warning that made people step aside without knowing why.

Maeve, meanwhile, looked serenely unbothered. "My husband."

Andres lifted a brow. "Where is he?"

She let the words linger, all sweet trouble. "Isn't he standing right in front of me?"

Andres let out a short laugh, all irritation. "And what makes you think I'm paying for your mistakes?"

Maeve's smile was pure mischief. "You showed up, didn't you? That means you came to deal with me."

The elevator doors slid open. Maeve brushed past his shoulder and walked out.

Andres fell in beside her. "You were that sure I'd come?"

"Couldn't be more sure."

"And where does that confidence come from?"

"We're tied together. Same interests."

Andres's mouth tightened. "Not for long."

A black executive van rolled up and stopped smoothly in front of them.

Hans got out from the driver's seat and opened the rear door with practiced respect. "Mr. Andres."

His son was on the edge of death, and only Maeve's kidney could keep him alive.

But at the worst possible moment, Maeve had smashed up Mr. Andres's hotel.

Even if Luka wanted to pay ten times the damages, if Andres refused to let her go, Luka wouldn't dare make a sound—couldn't even afford to clear his throat.

And sure enough, the moment he stepped out of the hotel with his wife and daughter, the hospital called.

Someone had filed a report with the authorities: doctors at a private hospital had been taking organs from healthy people without consent, selling them to patients for profit.

Families of victims had flooded the hospital demanding justice. The scandal was explosive.

Now the evidence was airtight—witnesses, records, everything. The people involved had been arrested and were under investigation.

That included the two surgeons who had been scheduled to perform Ansel Morales's kidney transplant.

When the news hit, Luka's legs gave out. He collapsed onto the pavement.

Maeve detained. Doctors arrested. Who was going to save his precious son now?

By the time Andres's van arrived at The Imperial, Maeve was already there—standing at the entrance with the skateboard tucked under her arm, as if she'd been waiting all along.