Semua Bab Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce: Bab 21 - Bab 30

ELISHA’S POVSince the fight, Anthony and I barely spoke.We didn’t argue, but the silence between us was its own kind of war—thick, cold, and always present. Words had stopped meaning anything between us. Tone mattered much more now. Eye contact, or the absence of it. Every quiet dinner. Every door closed too softly.He’d been sleeping in the guest room. It just happened. Like everything else in our marriage, it was a quiet but big change. At first, he tried. Or said he was trying. He came back to our bed one night, made small talk under the guise of reconciliation. Said we shouldn’t live like strangers. That we needed to “try again.”I didn’t say no to the idea of fixing things. I said no to how he tried to fix it. He reached for me—not with kindness, not with remorse—but with entitlement. As if sex could smooth over everything. As if my body was still his by default, no matter how absent his heart had been.I pulled away.He didn’t push. But the rejection cut. I saw it in his fa

ELISHA’S POVThe first thing I noticed was the color.A pale blue silk that matched the tone of his pocket square so precisely it couldn’t have been a coincidence. And then I saw the cut. The neckline. The pleated waist. The delicate buttons trailing down the back.My stomach dropped.Because that dress wasn’t just similar—it was mine.I felt the flush rise in my chest—not from embarrassment, but fury. The gall. The calculation. She hadn’t just raided my closet. She’d done it for this. To show up beside my husband in my dress, playing the role of the woman who’d replaced me without saying a single word.And Anthony had let her.I froze.A small group of classmates I’d been chatting with shifted awkwardly, sensing the tension but not quite sure what to do with it. The conversation we’d been having melted into silence and one of them cleared their throat and looked away.My own dress felt too tight suddenly, like it didn’t belong on me. Like maybe I didn’t belong here either.I shou

ELISHA’S POVThe car ride home felt like it stretched across miles and years.The city slipped by beyond the tinted windows, blurring into soft lights and shadows, but I barely saw any of it. I sat with my arms folded tightly over my stomach, staring straight ahead. Anthony hadn’t said a word since we left the event, and neither had I.Not after what he did in that hallway.The silence was a quiet war—pressurized, waiting to crack.We turned off the main road and pulled into a gas station. The driver wordlessly got out and moved toward the pump. A moment passed. Two.Then Anthony finally spoke.“Did you just go to this ridiculous thing because of him?”I blinked. “Him… who?”He scoffed, low and bitter. “Cooper. Who else would I be talking about? You don’t go to these things. You’re a homebody.”I turned to him slowly. “Maybe I’m a homebody because you never take me anywhere.”He didn’t answer. His jaw locked. His hand tightened on the armrest like he was resisting the urge to lash out

ELISHA’S POV“…there’s no way you can see him without an appointment.”I didn’t think. I didn’t pause.I just shoved the door wide open, catching Mark mid-sentence.“Mrs. Möller, wait—”But I was already past him.My heels echoed against the polished floors as I stormed through the corridor. I didn’t know what I was going to say. I didn’t care. I only knew one thing: Bubblegum was gone. Taken. And someone had lied to my face.If Anthony wanted to play games, fine.But I was done sitting quietly and letting him win.As I reached the frosted glass doors of the CEO’s office, I spotted another nameplate down the hall.Natalie Montgomery.I stopped in my tracks.Her own office.She was an intern.I almost laughed. Of course she had her own office. She had my wardrobe, my house, my husband—why not a desk too?Something told me Anthony wasn’t the mastermind here. Not this time. This had Natalie’s fingerprints all over it.I spun on my heel and marched toward her door instead. It was cracke

ELISHA’S POV“And what, Natalie has done nothing?” I said, standing as straight as I could, though my knees were trembling. “It takes two to make a scene, you know.”The words felt foreign in my mouth—sharp, defiant, unfamiliar. I had never spoken to my father this way before. Hell, I had never spoken to anyone this way. Not teachers. Not Anthony. Only in the privacy of my own mind.My father’s eyes narrowed. His jaw set.“Elisha,” he said slowly, his voice low and controlled, “you will lower your tone.”But Dominic, always the peacekeeper—or the enforcer, depending on the day—stepped in, phone already unlocked.“I think we should all watch this first,” he said.He tapped the screen.The video played.There I was, frozen in a still frame mid-motion, hand raised. Natalie’s face contorted in mock fear.He hit play.The footage wasn’t long. Maybe twenty seconds. But it was clear enough: I was shouting. Natalie was cowering. My hand slapped across her face.There was no context.No lead-