All Chapters of Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Troy's mouth fell open. "You did not." He stared at me for a beat. “You didn't, right?” He searched my face for answers, before disappointment clouded his face."You had to go that low?" Troy pressed his palms against his eyes. "Jesus.""I didn't—" I started to defend myself."Shut up." Troy cut me off, his words slightly slurred. "What happened after?"I paced the kitchen, my thoughts still tangled. "He left. Said he needed space.""Can't blame him." Troy slumped deeper into the couch. "So that's why you texted? Because he left?""Because—" I stopped, struggling to articulate what had driven me to reach for my phone. "I don't know why I texted. I was drunk

Every ten minutes, I checked my phone. Like clockwork. Like an addict. Each time expecting something that wasn't there."You're going to wear out your screen," Olivia said, not looking up from the spreadsheets spread across my kitchen counter. Her voice was casual, but I caught the sidelong glance.I set the phone down. Picked up a grant proposal. Put it down again. Checked the time: 10:42 AM. Twelve hours and twenty-six minutes since Alex had walked out my door."The Henderson committee needs the revised budget by Thursday," Olivia said, sliding a spreadsheet toward me. "And we should prepare counterarguments for the 'concerns' your parents have been spreading.""What exactly are they saying?" I asked, scanning the numbers without really seeing them. My thumb twitched toward my phone again. I curled it into my palm."That you're emotionally unstable after leaving Daniel. That the foundation is just a vendetta against established design houses." Olivia's pen tapped against her legal pa

I watched as Robert questioned Maya's professional judgment, his voice carrying that familiar patronizing tone. And then—"You'd really destroy your own daughter's work?" Thorne interjected, addressing her parents directly. "To protect a lie?"Caroline Kingston's face hardened. "Mr. Thorne, with all due respect, you weren't invited to this dinner.""No, but I was invited by Maya. And since we're speaking of reputations, perhaps we should discuss how it would look if the industry discovered that the Kingstons deliberately left their daughter in the mountains for over a decade for business purposes."The blood rushed to my face. Who the fuck did he think he was? Playing white knight when he knew nothing about her, nothing about what she needed, nothing about what we'd built together.Then Maya's voice cut through clearly: "Alex is family. The family I've chosen."Something hot and tight constricted in my chest. I stared at the screen, at her hand covering his on the table. An intimate ge

MayaI'd forgotten how much I hated Grandfather's study. The room felt like it was actively trying to swallow me—dark wood paneling soaking up what little sunlight filtered through heavy curtains, leather chairs too deep for my frame, bookshelves stuffed with volumes nobody had opened in decades. The air still had that perpetual smell of cigars even though I had never seen grandfather smoke."They've approached Whitcomb," Grandfather said, tossing a handwritten note across his massive desk. Not photographs. Not dramatic surveillance. Just his spidery handwriting on Russo Designs stationery showing the result of one phone call to a secretary who'd worked for him for thirty years and still treated him like God despite his "retirement."I picked it up, trying to focus on the words while my brain kept circling back to the same useless

The drive home was a blur. I found myself sitting in my parking garage with no memory of the actual journey, which probably meant I shouldn't have been driving. Great. Another stellar decision from Maya Vega, totally-in-control. What a joke.My apartment felt alien somehow. I dropped my bag on the counter and froze when my eyes landed on the couch. The cushions still showed faint indentations where Alex had fucked me senseless just days ago. I could almost feel his weight on top of me, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise, his cock driving into me as I begged him not to stop. The memory was so vivid I felt my body responding—my nipples hardening beneath my shirt, and heat pooling between my legs.I tore my eyes away and yanked open the refrigerator, as if cold air could somehow extinguish the flash of desire. Inside was pathetic—condiments, a withered apple, half a bottle of white wine from that night. The same bottle he'd brought over before everything fell apart. I