Semua Bab Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce: Bab 181 - Bab 190

OSTARA’S POVI had been the one to call him. For once, it wasn’t Cameron reaching out to suggest something thoughtful, something quiet and easy. It was me. My message had been short, almost tentative: How would you feel about a weekend in St. Tropez before New York swallows me whole?His reply came almost instantly. Delighted. Leave everything to me.When we finally spoke on the phone, his voice carried an energy I hadn’t heard in weeks. “You don’t need to think about a thing. I’ll take care of it.”But I couldn’t just sit back. “No, I’d like to help as well!” I insisted.He chuckled, warm and certain. “Ostara, all you need to do is come and enjoy yourself. That’s your whole task, and it’s a big one.”That made me laugh, really laugh, something loose and unguarded. “Fine. You win.”***The weekend began with a car that was far too sleek for a casual getaway. A driver in a crisp suit opened the door for me, my luggage already handled. The interior smelled faintly of leather and cedar,

OSTARA’S POVThe jet hummed steadily beneath our feet, a low, constant sound that settled everyone into a calm rhythm. Donna had the window seat. She pressed her forehead to the glass and narrated the sky to Penny like it was a living thing—pointing out a thin band of clouds, a tiny shadow of another plane, the way the sun brightened the wing. Across the aisle, Ethan and Adam compared playlists. Behind us, Elijah reviewed a lean run-of-show for the opening. Sabrina and Bethany were a few rows back with the production gear, speaking in short, polite sentences that skirted anything personal. And Davina said she’d join us on launch day. I should have been all the way inside this moment—work in order, family around me, a coast-to-coast dream about to break open—but St. Tropez kept returning like a tug at my sleeve. I couldn’t stop replaying it in my mind—Natalie’s eyes on mine for a heartbeat, then gone. The way she ran… like some sort of hunted animal. I had not told Cameron. I wanted

OSTARA’S POV“What is going on?” I asked Bethany as I approached, keeping my voice low. “He made a remark about my ass,” she said. I could tell she wanted to scream, but out of respect for my event, she was holding herself back. “Except he thought I was Sabrina.” Sabrina’s cheeks were flushed with fury. “We both heard it.” Zane leaned lazily against the tasting bar, arms folded, his smirk daring anyone to challenge him.“Hey, I guess I have a specific type, I didn’t know.” Anthony stepped in before the silence stretched too far. His voice was steady, cutting, designed to carry. “That’s enough.” He fixed Zane with a look that brooked no argument. “You. With me. Now.”Zane tilted his head, smirk never faltering, but Anthony didn’t wait for compliance—he simply turned and started toward the far corner of the room. After a beat, Zane pushed himself off the counter and followed.That left me with Bethany and Sabrina, both visibly rattled, both trying not to look as though they had just

PETER’S POVThe plane ride back to Italy was suffocating. Not because of turbulence, not because of noise—because there was nothing. Silence so thick it pressed against my ears. A coffin in the sky, carrying me back to the very people who wanted me dead.I’d packed up my life in America overnight, folded it into a suitcase, and left without a word. I told myself I was returning to fix things. And when I said fix, I meant reminding my so-called men who ran this family. Firing whoever had forgotten it. Destroying anyone who dared to raise a hand against me.MedDirect would limp along without me. I had three idiots propping it up—Henry Cao, Jeffrey Abram, and Tyrell Aikens—each useful only because they followed my instructions like sheep. Three delusional college dropouts with an app idea and no idea how to execute it until I backed them up. If they stuck to the script, my contracts would stay alive. If they tried to think for themselves, they’d ruin it all. But for now, the machine co

OSTARA’S POVThe first time I introduced Cameron and Donna properly, it wasn’t staged, or planned, or dressed up with ceremony. I wanted it to be natural—two people who mattered to me, meeting without the glare of expectation.We chose something simple: a walk through Hyde Park followed by ice cream at Donna’s favorite stand. The late afternoon light stretched long across the grass, children kicked footballs nearby, and the air was filled with the crisp hint of spring.Cameron had brought tulips—yellow ones—for Donna. “A little sunshine for a little sunshine,” he said as he handed them to her. She giggled, hiding her face behind the blooms, though I could see the grin tugging at her lips.By the time we reached the ice cream stand, she was already comfortable enough to tug his sleeve and ask for extra sprinkles. He obliged, paying for hers and then for mine too, even though I told him it wasn’t necessary. He leaned down conspiratorially as she licked at the melting ice cream.“So, Don