Divorcing Mr CEO のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 141 - チャプター 150

The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beeping of machines. Damian stood just inside the doorway, his eyes fixed on the figure lying in the bed.Lord Blackwood looked small. That was the first thing Damian noticed. His father, who had always seemed larger than life, commanding and untouchable, now appeared fragile and diminished.His face was pale, almost gray. The lines around his eyes and mouth seemed deeper than they had been just days ago. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, fogging slightly with each shallow breath. IV lines ran from his arms to bags hanging beside the bed. Monitors tracked his heartbeat, his blood pressure, his oxygen levels—all the numbers that measured whether he would live or die.Damian walked slowly toward the bed, his footsteps muffled by the linoleum floor. He stopped beside it and looked down at his father.How many times had he stood before this man, seeking approval that never came? How many times had he tried to prove himself worthy

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of the private medical office, casting a warm glow across the pale blue walls. Lira sat on the examination table, her hands folded nervously in her lap. The paper covering crinkled beneath her every time she shifted.Damian stood beside her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. Despite everything weighing on his mind—his father, the investigation, the poison, he was fully present in this moment. For her. For their baby.Dr. Chen, a woman in her early fifties with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair, washed her hands at the sink and smiled at them both."Good afternoon, Mrs. Blackwood. Mr. Blackwood." She dried her hands and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. "How are we feeling today?"Lira managed a small smile. "Nervous. Excited. A little nauseous.""That's completely normal." Dr. Chen pulled up a rolling stool and sat down, reviewing the chart on her tablet. "Morning sickness is a good sign actually. It means your hormones are d

The morning sun broke through the clouds, casting pale light across the hospital room. Mrs. Blackwood sat in the chair beside her husband's bed, her fingers wrapped around his hand. She had spent another night in the hospital, refusing to go home despite the nurses' gentle insistence.Her eyes were fixed on his face, watching for any sign of movement. Any flicker of consciousness.Lord Blackwood remained still. The machines continued their steady rhythm. Beep. Hiss. Beep.A soft knock came at the door.Mrs. Blackwood looked up to see a young woman in a crisp business suit standing in the doorway. She recognized her as Rebecca, her husband's personal assistant."Mrs. Blackwood," Rebecca said softly, bowing her head respectfully. "I'm sorry to disturb you.""It's alright, Rebecca. Come in."The assistant stepped inside, clutching a leather portfolio against her chest. Her expression was uncertain, as if she wasn't sure she should be there."I wouldn't have come, but there's something th

The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the windows of the Harrington mansion study. The barrister sat slumped in his leather chair, staring blankly at the wall across from him. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes like bruises. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie loosened and hanging askew around his neck.He hadn't slept properly in days.Every creak of the house made him jump. Every car that passed on the street made his heart race. Every phone notification sent a spike of fear through his chest.But nothing had come.No messages. No calls. No more photographs.Three days of silence.Maybe—just maybe, Serena had given up. Maybe she'd moved on to some other scheme. Maybe the photographs had just been a warning, and now that he'd been sufficiently terrified, she was satisfied.He wanted to believe that.God, how badly he wanted to believe that.The barrister rubbed his face with both hands, feeling the rough stubble that had grown from days of not shaving. He looked at the desk in fron

The morning light filtered softly through the hospital blinds, casting gentle stripes across the sterile white walls of the ICU room. The machines continued their steady rhythm—beep, hiss, beep, a mechanical lullaby that had become the soundtrack of Lord Blackwood's existence for the past several days.Mrs. Blackwood sat in her usual chair beside the bed, a cup of lukewarm tea clutched in her hands. She'd been there since five in the morning, unable to sleep at home, drawn back to her husband's side by an invisible thread of hope and fear.She stared at his face, memorizing every line, every shadow. His breathing was so shallow that sometimes she had to lean close just to confirm he was still alive."Please," she whispered for the thousandth time. "Please wake up. Please come back to me."As if responding to her plea, Lord Blackwood's fingers twitched.Mrs. Blackwood's breath caught. She leaned forward, setting down her tea so quickly it sloshed over the rim."Darling?" Her voice was