The Divorced Heiress Is Entering a New Marriage

I was curious about what was going on, but with a mood like a funeral home in this office, I decided it was better to just head to my desk. My co–workers could fill me in at break time.

That was what I thought.

Only when I arrived at my desk, my boss stood in front of my chair, as if he was waiting for me.

I checked my watch again. I wasn’t late.

“Morning…” I said to him as I approached, uncertain. Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

“You are needed for a meeting, Hazel. First thing. Meeting room 5.”

Odd for the boss not to even return my good morning. This must have been something very serious indeed. I start to put down my purse.

“Take it with you,” the boss said.

I froze. “My… purse?” I had the distinct impression that I was about to be fired.

But for what? I hadn’t done anything wrong, as far as I knew. Unless there were some kind of secret rules for this office that had been different from those at the previous location. But even then, someone should have told me about them.

“Meeting room 5,” he repeated.

I guessed that was my only path to answers. “Okay. Thanks…”

.Turning around, I walked back the way I had come. The meeting rooms were on the other side of the office. My co–worker’s curious glances followed me the entire way.

Did any of them have any idea what I was about to walk into? It would have been nice if they would have warned me. Though, I supposed, I could never really seem to make friends in this office.

Meeting room 5 had no interior windows, not even in the door. I stopped outside of it to take a steadying breath. What could possibly be waiting for me inside?

Courage gathered, I gripped the handle and pushed open the door.

Inside, already sitting, were a group full of smartly–dressed men and women. Their outfits looked expensive. Their laptops definitely were. They all wore stern, serious expressions. In unison, their gazes snapped to me as soon as I opened the door.

I was immediately unnerved.

“Uh… Am F in the right place?” I asked.

The man at the head of the long meeting room table sat up. “Hazel Whitaker?”

“Yes?”

The man gestured for the one open seat remaining at the far end of the table, opposite him.

–

“Sit,” he said. He stayed standing, continuing to gesture, until I moved to that chair and sat down. Then he

sat down too.

I swallowed hard, having a nine pairs of eyes all on me. No one was saying anything; they were just staring. The only one who was actually moving was the man who had spoken. He flipped open a folder in front of him.

The awkwardness was starting to get to me. “Nice weather, huh?” I tried.

None of their expressions changed. No one humored me at all with a reply.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Miss Whitaker,” said the man at the head of the table. “My name is Leonardo Smith. I am an attorney for Hatfield Supply.” He gestured to the people sitting on his left and right, down the sides of the table. “These are my associates.”

They all nodded.

“Nice to meet you,” I said politely, even as a cold child rushed down my spine. “But I’m afraid I don’t know what this is about, Mr. Smith.”

“Today we are not here on behalf of the company,” Mr. Smith said. “But personally representing Mr. Hatfield Senior.”

Logan’s grandfather?

“Regarding…?” I asked.

Mr. Smith looked at me with a cool, indifferent expression. “Your immediate divorce from his grandson Logan.”