DIVORCED BY THE CEO, NOW HE WANTS ME

"You are barren, Chloe. I don't need a defective wife."

Ethan Knight's voice was colder than the rain hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office.

Chloe Scott stood frozen, her hands clutching the pregnancy report in her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. Two pink lines. She had found out just an hour ago. She had rushed here to tell him, to save their marriage.

He threw a file on the desk. 

DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

"Sign it."

Chloe's lips trembled. "Ethan... what are you saying? Three years of marriage—"

"Three years of my mother forcing me to keep you," he cut her off, not even looking at her. He loosened his tie, his handsome face blank. "Vanessa is back. I need a wife who can give me an heir. You can't. Don't make this ugly."

Vanessa. His first love. The supermodel who left him for Hollywood.

So that's it. She was being discarded like trash.

Chloe laughed, but tears burned her eyes. "I gave up my design career for you. I cooked for you, waited for you every night until 2 AM. And now I'm... defective?"

Finally, he looked at her. His dark eyes held no love, only impatience. "You will get ten million as compensation. That's more than enough for a woman like you."

A woman like you.

Chloe's hand slowly left her bag. The pregnancy report — he didn't deserve to know. He would think she was lying to trap him. He would make her abort it.

She picked up the pen. Her hand shook so hard the signature looked broken.

Chloe Scott.

The moment she signed, Ethan took the papers and pressed the intercom. "Send in Vanessa."

The door opened. A tall, beautiful woman in a red dress walked in and wrapped her arms around Ethan's neck, kissing his cheek right in front of Chloe.

"Thank you, Ethan darling. I knew you'd choose me."

Chloe's heart shattered into a thousand pieces. She took off her wedding ring — the cheap one she had kept polishing for three years — and placed it on his desk with a loud clink.

"I wish you both rot in hell," she whispered.

She turned and walked out, straight into the heavy rain, without an umbrella. No one stopped her.

In the taxi, she finally broke down, holding her belly.

"Baby, I'm sorry. Your daddy doesn't want us. But Mommy will want you. Mommy will make him regret this day."

Three years later.

At the Paris Fashion Week afterparty, every CEO was fighting to get a business card from the mysterious new designer — SC, who had just won Designer of the Year. No one knew her face, only her work.

Ethan Knight sat in the VIP lounge, bored, swirling his whiskey. Vanessa, now his fiancée, was complaining beside him.

"Ethan, when will you announce me as the CEO's wife? It's been three years since you divorced that boring woman."

Before he could answer, the crowd gasped.

The private elevator opened.

A woman stepped out in a black gown that hugged every curve, her hair in waves, her red lips sharp. Confident, cold, breathtaking. On her hand was a massive diamond ring — not a wedding ring, but a power ring.

And beside her, holding her hand, was a little boy, three years old, with the same dark, cold eyes as Ethan Knight.

Ethan's whiskey glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.

His heart stopped.

Because the woman was Chloe Scott.

His ex-wife. Who was supposed to be broken and barren.

And the boy... the boy looked exactly like him.

Vanessa's face turned pale. She gripped Ethan's arm. "Ethan, who... who is that child?"

Ethan didn't answer. He couldn't breathe. He was already standing up, his eyes locked on Chloe.

Chloe's eyes met his across the room. For a second, he saw hatred. Then she smiled — a slow, dangerous smile that said _you have no idea what is coming_.

She picked up her son and whispered something in his ear. The little boy looked at Ethan and said loudly enough for everyone to hear:

"Mommy, is that the bad man who made you cry?"

Every head in the room turned to Ethan Knight.

TO BE CONTINUED...