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Chapter 74
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2025-07-12 21:45:27
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Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce Chapter 159
OSTARA’S POVThe museum’s glass façade caught the last few rays of light as the sun set. London nights began early in the winters and the cold was unforgiving. But inside the wide entrance doors, it was warm. The lobby was all wood, stone, and leather—more like an old manor than a modern museum.Cameron was waiting for me just past the ticket desk, a slim guidebook in one hand, his other tucked casually in his coat pocket. London suited him. Or maybe he knew how to fit into any space he was given. He had been nothing but lovely, kind, and available the last few weeks we’d been seeing each other. His natural ease, however, did nothing to untie the knots in my stomach—no amount of coffee or late-night notes or rationalization could do it.“Ready?” he asked, smiling, offering me the guide as though I might want to mark our route.“Lead the way,” I said. My voice sounded calm enough, though the thrum in my veins didn’t match it.We began in the sculpture hall. Marble figures stood in the
Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce Chapter 158
PETER’S POVMorning broke damp and gray over Milan. The city looked rinsed, streets still shining from a night of steady drizzle. From my office windows the Duomo’s spires sat shrouded in low cloud, traffic moved in patient lines, and every sound—the horns, the scooters, the distant bell—felt dulled by the air.I’d been in before seven, a habit that never left even when there was nothing to do. Meetings were blocked in half-hour squares across my calendar—logistics with New Jersey, a compliance check on Naples, a call with a boutique hotel group in Florence. The day was set to move the way I preferred: clean, predictable, relentless.Of course, that all changed when one of my assistants knocked on the door. Marco edged in, spine too straight, a folder pinched in his fingers. He was never sloppy. He was also never pale. He looked pale now.“What is it?” I asked. “She’s signed,” he said.“With whom,” I asked, though my body already knew.He swallowed. “Zenith.”I could feel my stoma
Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce Chapter 157
ANTHONY’S POVHer email saved me.It didn’t just change the course of the week, or the month—it pulled me back from the edge of an abyss I hadn’t even admitted I was standing on. I had been ready to lay it all down, to hand Peter the victory, to call the last six years nothing more than wasted obsession.And then—her name in my inbox.Ostara.The subject line was nothing remarkable. The text was concise, deliberate, free of flourish. But every word of it was oxygen.Harvest Bloom will be moving forward with Zenith for our American distribution.I’d read it a dozen times before I let myself breathe. I’d laughed aloud, a sound so unsteady that Mark had looked up from across the plane with something close to alarm. I’d been on the verge of collapse, and with one message, she’d pulled me upright again.I couldn’t believe how close I’d been to surrender. The thought made me angry at myself, made me want to slam a fist into a wall. To give up—when I’d carried this torch through fire, thro
Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce Chapter 156
OSTARA’S POVThe car ride to Elijah’s house felt longer than any drive had a right to be.It was barely half an hour from the office to his townhouse, but the weight of the promise I’d made turned every turn, every red light, every stretch of quiet street into a stage for my rehearsals.Tonight, I would tell them.The final answer. The decision I’d been circling, avoiding, dressing up with excuses. The decision I knew they all suspected but hadn’t dared push too far—yet.The closer we drew, the tighter my chest became.My brothers had spent years keeping me hidden from Anthony. Money, connections, favors—they had burned all of it just to build me a fortress of anonymity. They carried the weight of my absence from the world, shielded Donna’s existence, cleaned every trace of Elisha Montgomery and Elisha Möller off the face of the earth.And now I was walking back into the very fire they had worked so hard to keep me from.Working with Zenith meant tying myself to Anthony and the Möller
Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce Chapter 155
OSTARA’S POVI had been awake most of the night.Donna’s small hand curled into mine long after she fell asleep, her chest finally rising and falling evenly, her little inhaler sitting like a guard on the nightstand. I stayed awake anyway. I kept seeing the curb. Her pink coat.And Anthony.Him kneeling on the wet asphalt, voice steady, talking to her like she was a delicate little thing. There had been no calculation in him, no leverage waiting to be used. Just focus. Just calm.Just… reliability.That was the part that stayed with me.By morning, I felt hollowed out. My reflection in the bathroom mirror looked polished, professional—hair pinned, jacket sharp, makeup neat. But underneath, I was still shaky. My body carried the echo of adrenaline, even as I walked into the office and let the weight of Harvest Bloom wrap itself around me again.Emails stacked, production schedules waiting, suppliers calling. The fire in Germany had already made its way through the trade publications.
Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce Chapter 154
ANTHONY’S POVThe numbers were a massacre.Even from thirty thousand feet, I could see it. Rows of red slashed across the financials as the plane pushed through the Atlantic night, London shrinking behind me. Losses climbing, contracts closing, hospitals pivoting. Every line that should have steadied us into recovery was pointing the other way.I sat there in the glow of the cabin lights, Mark across from me with his laptop open, the two of us hunched over the wreckage like coroners. The jet’s hum drowned everything but my own heartbeat.“Another three hospitals in Chicago,” Mark said, his voice stripped of its usual cushion. He scrolled further. “And a chain of clinics in Houston. They’re moving to MedDirect.”The name made my teeth grind. “Then we win them back.”He didn’t even sigh this time. Just shook his head and turned the screen toward me. “We’re out of time. Look at this. We’ve bled so much revenue in the last quarter, it’s not about winning them back anymore. It’s about sur
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