บททั้งหมดของ Divorce to Destiny: Reclaiming My CEO Husband: บทที่ 311 - บทที่ 320

(Winona)Henry’s finally asleep, and the house is settling into that sweet, quiet lull that comes after a long, hectic day. I recheck the monitor and tiptoe out of the nursery, closing the door softly behind me, and head downstairs.It’s still surreal having Henry home, and part of me feels like I should be watching over him constantly, but the doctors assured us that the specialist equipment and nanny support would alert us if anything goes wrong.The monitor screens are set up in the living and kitchen areas and our bedroom. But I am well aware I need to relax and let go a little as well. I’m not going to end up being a helicopter mom when the kid’s sixteen.It’s bad enough now, I can’t focus on my work and business right now. I’m going away for an extended time. Phillip needs support at work and I’m still getting hit with the awkwardness every time I see him. I have to make a choice soon.Is it time to sell up my half and become a fulltime Mom?But enough of that. Cass is here and

(Jayden)I step out of the jet, and the crisp European air hits me immediately—cleaner, cooler. It smells faintly of rain, earth, and something else I can’t place. It feels... old. Ancient, even.This place has history, layers of it.At the bottom of the stairs, I spot the two men I was told would be waiting. Viktor Balázs, head of security, stands with his arms folded across his chest.He’s tall and built like he could take down a bear with his bare hands. Dressed in black tactical gear, his stance is solid, like nothing could knock him over.His face is set, but there’s an ease in the way he carries himself. I’ve read his file—ex-military, Hungarian, a force of nature in his field.Next to him stands Hugo Devereux, the man Gus has trusted for decades. He’s everything I imagined: tall, lean, and dripping with French superiority. The way his gray hair is slicked back, his sharp suit perfectly tailored, it’s like he’s stepped out of some European fashion magazine.He’s got the air of s

(Winona)It’s morning, and the house is in full chaos mode, as usual. Henry’s just gone down for a nap. Anne is on the school run.The kitchen is a mess. Breakfast dishes still on the counter, toys scattered across the floor. I glance at the clock and realize I’ve got about an hour before I need to be at the office.Beth will be here by then for Henry. Anne will pick up some groceries before getting back.Henry was more restless than usual, and I’m exhausted from being up with him most of the night. My body aches, and a dull headache has been lingering for the past few days.I hope everything is going okay for Jayden. He’s over there with no one he knows.As I move around, picking up toys and mentally running through my work to-do list, I can’t help but think about everything piling up. I love my business—creating it from the ground up has been one of my biggest achievements.But lately, I’ve been thinking if it’s really what I want to keep doing right now.Henry is always on my mind.

(Winona)The witching hour. That’s what I call the chaos around dinner time. Hangry kids. Hangry me. Of course, it’s Anne’s night off and Beth leaves at 5pm.I’m barely hanging on by a thread and my intention to impress Lisa with my capable skills is a major fail. Sarah and Abby are squabbling over the one shade of pink crayon they both must have.No other pink will do, despite there being ten of them.Bobby is sulking in the corner because I told him no more screen time and to set the table for dinner. Apparently, creepers burned his Minecraft house down because of me or something.Henry is fussing in his bassinet, fighting sleep like it’s a personal battle he needs to win. He might be small, but his lung capacity makes up for the rest of him.I’m just trying to make sure the house doesn’t burn down while I try to make a nice dinner. Yeah right. At this point it’s burnt offerings. I refuse to go with PB and J again.“Let me help,” Lisa says, stepping into the kitchen like she owns th

(Jayden)“Welcome, monsieur Brennan,” he says, his French accent sharp as ever. “Gus’s estate is now yours, as are its many... intricacies. I hope you can handle all this and respect the traditions.”I don’t miss the hint of doubt in his voice. I try not to look too overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of this place.“This... is Gus’s home?” I ask, glancing back at the massive structure behind us. “Fuck, it’s mental.”“Indeed,” Hugo replies. “One of several, but this is the crown jewel. A gift from a royal family here in Belgium, many years ago. It has been updated over the years, of course, to meet more modern standards. But the history is rich. And the connections it holds... priceless.”“Royal family?”“Yes. Belgium has a proud royal history, as do many European countries and each of them are carefully kept as allies. We never want to upset or offend any of our connections.”“Here is a list of the gifts just in this last year alone.” He hands me a print-out. “You must confer with you