All Chapters of Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce: Chapter 331 - Chapter 337

OSTARA’S POVWatching Anthony step into Harvest Bloom was like watching a man learn a new language but somehow already sound fluent.He took notes. He asked questions. He listened to people half his age explain tempering ratios and retail display behavior with the seriousness of a man being briefed on international policy.And then, when the flavor sessions started, he became unexpectedly useful.I sat at the end of the tasting counter one afternoon with Davina on one side, Ethan slouched opposite her, and Anthony leaning against the stainless-steel worktable with a little notebook in hand.Davina placed three test pieces in front of us. “Okay. These are all versions of jasmine and citrus for East Asia. Subtle, elegant, premium gifting. Try not to be irritating.”“No promises,” Ethan said.We all sampled the first one.Anthony chewed slowly, thoughtful. “Too floral,” he said. “Not in a bad way, but if you want this to land in China or Hong Kong in a luxury context, the finish needs mo

OSTARA’S POVI looked down at the ring again and felt emotion rise so quickly I had to swallow it back.It was perfect. Of course, it was perfect. Simple and strong and elegant.I curled my fingers, then looked back at him.“That rooftop thing you arranged,” I said slowly.Anthony blinked. “The one I am now praying you never saw the invoices for?”I laughed. “Can it be adjusted?”He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Adjusted how?”“For a family dinner,” I said. “Tonight. So we can announce this right.”His whole face changed.Not just softened—lit up. Relief, delight, something almost boyish. Like the idea of sharing this immediately, instead of guarding it for some private later, was a gift he hadn’t let himself expect.“Yes,” he said instantly. “Absolutely. I’ll make some calls.”We both got up off the floor. The second we were upright, I pulled him in again for a kiss. Then I pulled out my phone.The family group chat was already chaotic on a normal day. Today, I decided, it could ha

OSTARA’S POVFor one ridiculous second, all I could do was stare.My adoptive parents stood in the Harvest Bloom entrance like they had walked in from another universe—my old universe—the one made of cold dining rooms, conditional affection, and the constant feeling that I should be grateful just to remain in the house.Except now they weren’t in that house.They were in mine.My office. My world.My mother spotted me first and stiffened even further, if that was possible. My father’s jaw was so tight I thought it might crack.“There she is,” he said.The security guard beside me shifted. “Would you like me to call the cops—” “No,” I said quickly, though my pulse had already started to pound. “It’s alright.”It wasn’t alright. But I knew them.If I had them physically removed, they’d turn it into another story. So I stepped forward instead.“What are you doing here?” I asked.My mother gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “What are we doing here?”“Yes,” I said. “What are you doing her

NATALIE’S POVDubai was warm in a way that made forgiveness feel possible.The air here did not cling to old ghosts the way New York had, or prison, or that awful in-between phase where every room I entered still seemed to contain a version of myself I wanted to slap. Dubai let things shine. Surfaces were polished. And because for the first time in a very long time, no one was dragging me. No Peter. No Zane. No parents.I had a husband—still absurd to think about—who asked instead of demanded.That alone felt like a miracle.I was sitting in the private room of a boutique hotel in Downtown Dubai, going over sample tables for a wedding planner who had too many opinions about flowers, when it hit me again:I was planning a wedding.Not the prison paperwork version but a real one with a white dress, music, friends, and photographers.The planner pushed a tray of invitation paper toward me. “This one has the best texture,” she said, lifting a creamy card stock. “Elegant, understated, ve