All Chapters of Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

ANTHONY’S POVI gave her space.Not as a line I fed myself to feel civilized, but as an actual plan: leave the country, take my hands off the board, put miles and a border between us. If I stayed by the lake, I would find reasons to pass that café. I called the pilot.The jet lifted off just after sunset. Lake Como flattened into dark glass beneath us, then rolled away into a spread of hills and light. The cabin was quiet. I declined dinner, waved off the wine. The only sound was the low hum of the engines and the occasional shuffle from the attendant as she set an espresso on the table beside me. It went cold without being touched.I opened my laptop and closed it again. I unlocked my phone and locked it. I watched the map creep across the small screen at my seat and realized how ridiculous it was to try to outfly something that lived under my skin.For the first time in a long time, I felt powerless.Not in the way people mean when deals go sideways or numbers don’t line up. This w

Morning laid itself out like a postcard — the lake flat and bright, boats sliding across it in slow lines, the terrace table set with warm croissants, softened butter, a jar of apricot jam catching the light. It looked like peace. It wasn’t.Davina was already eating, one leg tucked under her, hair scraped into a haphazard knot. She nudged a plate toward me. “Eat. If you don’t eat, you monologue. And I can only take so many speeches before noon.”I tore a croissant and steam lifted into the air, butter loosening into the flakes. Coffee was strong and dark in a small white cup. I swallowed a sip and let it sit.“It’s one thing to compete with a business,” I said. “It’s another to go after a family.”Davina cocked her head. “Why do you care what happens to Möller Industries or the Möllers? I thought we were done with all of them.”“It isn’t about them.” I set the cup down carefully. “It’s about Sylvester.”She softened. “Ah.”I didn’t speak for a beat. Then the memories opened like dra

ANTHONY’S POVNo.No, no, no, no.The word looped in my head as if repeating it could undo the sight of her.Natalie. Standing in the doorway of my London flat as though she had always belonged here, her wheeled suitcase angled behind her, her smile too polished to be genuine.“What the hell are you doing in London?” The demand tore out of me before I could soften it.Mark, halfway through uncorking a bottle, froze. His brows lifted high, and he set the bottle down carefully. “Miss Montgomery, we had no idea you were traveling to London.” Natalie stepped in, her heels clicking against the wood. She let the silence stretch just long enough before she answered, “In case you forgot, it’s my birthday next week.” She glanced at me, then at Mark. “So sue me for wanting to spend it with Anthony in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.”I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting the weight that settled between my temples. “Natalie—”She cut me off with an airy wave. “You look surpris

OSTARA’S POVThe morning came thick with emails. My inbox pulsed with red flags and bolded subjects, every line a panicking over the fire in Germany.The investigation report arrived first. Elijah forwarded it with a single line: Read this carefully.I did. Twice.The report claimed the fire was electrical, originating in a control panel near the refrigeration units. But even a layman could see the notes didn’t add up. The wiring had been serviced only months earlier, inspected again three weeks ago. Every safeguard was documented. Every check signed off.And yet the blaze had spread with unnatural speed, swallowing the walls before the sprinklers could even engage.Someone had tried very hard to make it look like an accident.I rubbed the bridge of my nose, fatigue pressing in. A warehouse didn’t just burn by coincidence. Not when Harvest Bloom had spent years building a reputation for precision. Not when my name—finally my real name—was so close to being tied to it.If it was Peter

ANTHONY’S POVLondon pushed the cold hard against my face, the kind that worked under a coat and sat in the bones. I welcomed it. It kept my head clear. A blessing I needed more and more often as I waited for Elisha… Ostara… to get back to me on whether she would save my company and my grandfather’s legacy after all. What possessed me to hand over, so freely, this much power to another person? I took the long route along the river, cut up through side streets where the pavement held last night’s rain, then drifted toward a row of shops lit warm behind steamed glass. I wasn’t ready to go back to the flat. Natalie had made it her home. Her recent birthday—a dinner at the Ritz, a chopper ride over the city, a West End play, and a shopping spree sponsored by her father—had drained me to within an inch of my life. And she still stayed there, in my guest room, lingering dangerously close to me every night, asking questions about Elisha. It wasn’t even subtle anymore. A few nights ago,