All Chapters of Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

PETER’S POV“Why?” The word slipped out before I could sharpen it into something more detached.Damian sat across from me, calm as a priest. “Why what?”“Why would you betray her like this?” I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under me. “You walk into my office, hand me your girlfriend’s head on a platter, and expect me to believe you’re doing it for her good?”He didn’t flinch. “Because she can’t stop herself.”I narrowed my eyes.“She’s… wired for obsession,” he went on, his voice steady but low. “She can’t forgive, can’t let go, can’t stop burning bridges until there’s nothing left.”He took a sip of his drink and then stared at his glass. “I love her,” he said simply. “But if she keeps chasing Elisha, she’ll destroy herself. Or you’ll destroy her. Or her family will. There’s no winning path in this game. Not for her.”He believed it. Every word. That much I could see.“So your solution,” I said slowly, “is to hand her over to me.”“No,” he said quickly. “My solution i

ANTHONY’S POVI stared at her, waiting for her to laugh, waiting for her to take it back. She didn’t. Her eyes held mine, steady, unblinking, as though she’d been carrying this truth her entire life and had finally set it down.The words echoed in my head, twisting against every memory I thought I understood.It wasn’t Natalie. It was me. I pulled you out.My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. “That’s—” I stopped. The air in the kitchen had thickened; even the clock in the hall seemed louder. “That’s impossible. You weren’t even there.”Her voice didn’t waver. “I was. My parents—my real parents—had brought me and my brothers to Switzerland for the Christmas holidays. Before I went missing… before I was adopted by the Montgomerys.” I shook my head, though my pulse already knew she was telling the truth. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why let me believe—” I caught myself, biting down hard before Natalie’s name could poison the air again.“Because it didn’t matter,” she said. “And bec

OSTARA’S POVDonna’s head snapped up so fast I almost regretted speaking. Her eyes widened, a dozen shades of surprise all at once.“My daddy?” she asked, voice high, insistent.I froze, my hand still around the mug she had made for me. I hadn’t planned those words, hadn’t even thought them. They had just leapt out, uninvited, leaving me exposed and her staring at me like I had opened a forbidden door.“Yes,” I said quietly, because what else could I do?“Where is he?” she asked immediately. “Do I know him? Why haven’t I met him yet? Is he nice?”Her questions tumbled one after another, relentless, her little voice filling the room like quicksilver. I couldn’t answer fast enough. I didn’t even know where to begin.“Slow down, baby,” I said, though my own heart was racing.She leaned forward, eyes shining with curiosity, searching my face for clues. “You’ve never talked about him before. Is he alive? Do you see him? Does he know about me?”Her innocence sliced straight through me. Sh

NATALIE’S POVLondon again. The city always looked gray when the plane dipped through the clouds, like it was ashamed of itself but too proud to admit it. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, watching the rooftops knit together, the sprawl of roads winding like veins. The cabin jolted as the wheels touched down. Around me, passengers stretched, collected coats, shuffled bags. I moved slower, savoring the hum of arrival. The trick to survival was never letting anyone think you were in a hurry.By the time I slid into the back of a hired car, the rain had started—thin, steady, the kind that coated everything without ever washing anything clean. I leaned back, watching the streaks crawl down the windows, my mind drifting.Germany had been too easy. A hood, a lighter, a warehouse in the dead of night. Fire licked fast, greedy, like it had been waiting for me. Paris had been better—bolt cutters against the rail yard, quick and easy. They would all think it was about money, power, a

OSTARA’S POVThe firestorm was as ugly as expected. Photos I didn’t remember posing for. Records that should never have seen daylight. A few outright lies that carried because they sat beside things that were true. But the plan worked because we never chased every spark. Elijah kept the team focused on the big flames and let the embers die on their own. He had three core statements prepared, and he rotated them with small variations so it looked responsive without feeding new angles. He arranged short, tight quotes from allies we could trust to stay on message. He pushed corrections only where they would stick. He kept me off social media. He kept me off my email. Every time my phone buzzed, he made a small gesture with his hand, and I slid it face down again.Anthony stayed. He took a corner, made calls, and used his name where it would stabilize markets and slow panic. When an investor site ran a thin piece that implied Zenith might pause the joint launch, he fixed it in fifteen m