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Chapter 273

Author: Anney GW
last update Last Updated: 2025-12-11 19:59:13

ANTHONY’S POV

If someone had told me just six months ago that I’d walk into Möller Industry’s glass atrium feeling… light, I’d have called them insane.

But there I was.

The markets were steady. The latest audits had come back clean. The meeting with the regulators was set for Monday, but the initial conversations with them were already positive. Mark had made sure of that.

And last night… Ostara fell asleep in my arms.

Every spreadsheet, every contract, every crisis looked different with that k
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  • Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce   Chapter 325

    ANTHONY’S POVI adjusted the laptop so my face was framed properly. Behind me, the Christmas tree still blinked faintly in the corner, refusing to accept that the holiday was over.“Alright,” came Mrs. Kaplan’s crisp voice as more little rectangles blinked into life on-screen. “We have Anthony, we have Mark. Is everyone here?”Faces appeared one by one—board members in their respective offices, some at polished desks, some clearly at home.“Thank you all for joining,” I began, slipping easily into the tone I’d used a thousand times. “I’ll keep this brief. We’ve had a strong year despite… unexpected turbulence.”A few people gave tight, knowing smiles at that.“I’ll send a full written review later this week,” I said. “But I do want to share one major change. Effective by the end of next month, I will be stepping down as CEO of both Möller Industries and Zenith.”Silence.For once, not even Mrs. Kaplan spoke. A couple of the newer board members glanced at each other onscreen like they

  • Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce   Chapter 324

    OSTARA’S POVThe holiday season finished in a blur of food, family, and an insane number of fairy lights. Eventually, reality called.It came in the form of emails, voicemails, and one particularly long message from Davina that began with: “I have IDEAS” and ended with three PDFs.By the first working Monday of January, I was back in the Harvest Bloom conference room with Elijah at the head of the table, Ethan half-slumped in a chair, and Davina with her laptop open and a notebook full of scribbles.“So,” Davina said, tapping the screen. “Festive flavours for this year. I was thinking we lean into comforting and nostalgic more than experimental. Last year’s smoked chili cinnamon did well but it scared some people.”“It scared me,” Ethan said.“You ate a whole bar,” she shot back.“Because I was trying to figure it out,” he said. “I couldn’t tell if I was eating chocolate or signing my soul over to the devil.”Elijah snorted. I bit back a laugh.Davina glared at Ethan. “You are either

  • Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce   Chapter 323

    ANTHONY’S POVI’d always thought “quiet work mode” happened in a glass tower, in a suit, with assistants hovering outside my office. Turned out it could also happen in an old London townhouse, in a faded sweater, with a gingerbread house on the table.I sat there with my laptop and a mug of coffee. Everyone else was out. Me and the quiet.I clicked into the video meeting.Mark’s face appeared, framed by the glass walls of the Zenith conference room in New York.“Morning, sir,” he said.“Evening, actually. Time zones.”He smiled. “Right. Evening. How’s London?”I glanced at the window; drizzle streaked the glass, and Christmas lights blurred in the distance. “Damp. British. Perfect.”“Sounds ideal.”We spent fifteen minutes on the usual: year-end numbers, projections, clients, rollouts.“Do we have enough people to train the staff on the new machines?” I asked.“Yes,” he said. “They’re coming from Japan; we’ve arranged everything.”“Good.”Silence hummed.He’d taken his tie off, sleeve

  • Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce   Chapter 322

    ANTHONY’S POVChristmas morning in London felt different.New York Christmases were all glass and steel and noise—a city trying to out-sparkle itself. But London was softer. Grey skies, damp air, breath in little clouds. The townhouse woke up slowly.Donna was the first one to stir, of course. She tiptoed into our room at some ungodly hour, climbed right between us, and went back to sleep with her cold feet pressed into my ribs.By the time the sun dragged itself up properly, the whole house was alive.Pans clanged in the kitchen. Someone put on a Christmas playlist. Elijah cursed softly in the hall after stepping on a rogue ornament. The smell of coffee and cinnamon drifted under the bedroom door.I lay there for a moment, watching Ostara.She was still half-asleep, lashes resting on her cheeks, hair a dark mess against the pillow. Donna had rolled onto her, one arm flung across her chest like a very small, very determined bodyguard.My phone buzzed on the nightstand.I reached for

  • Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce   Chapter 321

    OSTARA’S POV“I wanted him to see her clearly. Not… marry her,” Anthony muttered.I stared at him. “Are you sure they got married?”He huffed out a humourless laugh. “They brought a priest into a private visitation room, Ossie. What else would they get him for? I doubt he exorcised Natalie, even though she could use one.”“Don’t joke like that,” I said quietly. “I’m serious.”“So am I.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “If he married her, he’s locked himself into this. He’s not going to walk away now.”I leaned back against the wall, the painted plaster cool through my sweater.“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” I said.He shot me a look. “You can’t be serious.”“I’m not saying I’m happy about it,” I said. “But maybe she needs someone who still believes in her when she has nothing.”“She doesn’t deserve that kind of loyalty,” Anthony snapped. His voice stayed low, but the anger was there. “She used people, lied to us, nearly got you killed, and my grandad died because of her scheming.

  • Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce   Chapter 320

    ANTHONY’S POVI didn’t need anyone to tell me her parents knew exactly who I was.The moment the hugging and crying and “oh my God, Mum” was over, both of them looked at me like I was something they’d scraped off their shoe.“Anthony,” Ostara said, turning back toward me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “This is my mum and dad.”Her mother’s eyes flicked over me quickly—expensive sweater, jeans, socks that didn’t match because Donna insisted on picking my outfit. Her father didn’t bother hiding his assessment either.“Mr. Möller,” he said. His voice was clipped. British, but sharper than Elijah’s. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”Not in the good way, the tone implied.I tried for polite. “I’ve heard a lot about you as well, sir. It’s good to finally meet you both.”Her mother gave a thin smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Has he?” she asked Ostara. “That’s nice.”Ostara moved quickly, looping her arm through her father’s. “Come on, you must be freezing,” she said. “Come in, come in. I’ll g

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