All Chapters of Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce: Chapter 281 - Chapter 290

ANTHONY’S POVThe alarm stopped as abruptly as it began, but the silence it left behind felt louder than the siren itself.Outside, the compound had turned into motion—boots on gravel, radios crackling, flashlights slicing through hedges and palm fronds. “South fence, check the drainage line,” I barked as I strode across the lawn. “Two on the east wall. I want eyes on the road, now.”“Copy,” someone replied, breathless. A gate clicked. Another voice called, “No visual!”The floodlights washed the garden in harsh white. I moved faster, scanning the usual blind spots: the storage shed, the garden arch, the narrow strip between the hedge and the wall.Nothing.But that wasn’t a relief. I crouched near the edge of the lawn where the grass met gravel. One of the guards, Malik, hovered beside me.“Here,” he said quietly.A faint scuff mark. The gravel had been disturbed in a single direction, like someone had planted their foot hard and pivoted.“Did anyone see them?” I asked.“No, sir. T

PETER’S POVThe wire should not have been there.That was the first thing I thought when Kira called.Not that she messed up, because she didn’t. Natalie should have told me about the traps Anthony laid. I stood by the hotel window, phone pressed to my ear, staring down at the city. New York was loud even at night—sirens in the distance, engines humming, the restless sound of people who still believed the world belonged to them.“It’s alright,” I said. “As long as they didn’t catch you.” “I didn’t even see it,” Kira said, breathless and a little scared. “I stepped, it clicked, and the whole place screamed. I thought you had someone on the inside feeding you information?”I closed my eyes.A wire meant planning. Expectation. It meant Anthony had stopped reacting and started preparing.“Where exactly did it trigger?” I asked.“The south perimeter,” she said. “Near the hedge. I made a run for it, I was followed but luckily the place is surrounded by foliage. I laid low for a bit and th

OSTARA’S POVThe cruise wasn’t extravagant in any way. No neon lights, no loud music, no diamond chandeliers. It was understated and polished, much like Anthony. In fact, it was so much like him that I had to ask if he’d bought a cruise line when I wasn’t looking. He said he wished he thought of that. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing, but you could never be too careful. Cream-colored decks, soft jazz drifting from hidden speakers, and waiters in crisp uniforms gliding past like ghosts. The kind of place where old money came to disappear for a while.Anthony stood with me on the dock, his hand resting against my lower back as the boarding call echoed across the bay. Donna was hugging me so tightly I could barely breathe.“Mummy,” she mumbled into my coat, “are you sure you have to go?”“I’ll be back before the month ends, baby,” I told her. “I’ve been so far from Harvest Bloom this whole time, it would be good to be in my office for a bit.” She nodded, understanding perfectly. I wa

OSTARA’S POVThe ship looked unreal at night.Silver-blue light spilled across the deck, moonlight glancing off polished railings and glass panels like something half-dreamed. The ocean stretched endlessly in every direction, dark and breathing. It was beautiful. But for some reason, the crows circling above the ship kept haunting me. I lay awake in my cabin, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rhythm of the waves.Sleep refused to come. My mind kept circling the same thoughts—Anthony, Donna, Harvest Bloom, now Natalie… I rolled onto my side and checked my phone. No messages. Anthony was likely asleep by now, with Donna tucked in beside him.I smiled faintly at the thought.A soft knock sounded at the door.“Ossie?” Natalie’s voice floated through the door. Quiet. Careful. “I couldn’t sleep.”I hesitated for half a second—then stood and opened it.She stood there barefoot, hair loose around her shoulders, holding two cups of tea. Steam curled gently into the hallway.“I figure

ANTHONY’S POVSaturday mornings with Donna had become my favorite kind of routine.No alarms. No schedules. No boardrooms calling my name before sunrise. Just sunlight filtering through the kitchen windows, the smell of coffee, and my daughter padding around the house in socks that never quite stayed on her feet, somehow.She sat at the island now, legs swinging, coloring very seriously with her tongue poking out the side of her mouth. The page was already a riot of pink and purple, some abstract creature that looked like a unicorn if you squinted generously.I set a plate of pancakes in front of her. “Blueberries or chocolate chips?”She looked up, eyes solemn. “Both.”I smiled. “A negotiator already.”“You taught me,” she said gravely.I laughed and ruffled her hair. “That’s not something you should admit out loud.”She beamed anyway.Mark arrived just after ten, as he usually did when he had updates he preferred to deliver in person. The front door opened and closed, and a moment l