All Chapters of I’m Back, Mr. CEO : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“Like the pregnancy was wrong? Like the timing was wrong? Like everything about you is wrong?” He was shouting now, and I’d never heard him shout. Not once in three years. “Vivian was right. You’re manipulating everyone. Changing your story whenever it suits you.”Vivian. Of course. She’d already gotten to him.“I’m not changing anything. I’m telling you what the doctor told me.”“Show me.”“What?”“Show me. The call log. The corrected results. Proof that this isn’t another one of your manipulations.”I grabbed my phone with shaking hands. Pulled up the call from Dr. Harrison’s office. Showed him the screen.He barely glanced at it. “That proves nothing. You could have called them. Asked them to lie for you.”“Why would I do that?”“Because you’re desperate!” His hand slammed against the wall, making me jump. “You’re desperate to keep me, desperate to compete with Vivian, desperate to matter. So you lie. You manipulate. You create drama where there is none.”“I’m not lying. I’m not ma

“He hesitated, Clara. When they asked if he was coming in the ambulance, he hesitated. Like he had to weigh his options. Like his wife and baby might not be worth the inconvenience.”“He’s an asshole.”“He’s my husband. And he doesn’t want us.” My hand found my belly, where the contractions had finally eased thanks to the IV medication. “But that’s okay. Because I want us. And that’s going to have to be enough.”The lawyer’s number was still in my phone. I pulled it up, stared at it.“What are you doing?” Clara asked.“Calling Rebecca. Telling her to put the divorce on hold.”“Why?”“Because I can’t afford the stress right now. Because my son’s life depends on me staying calm. Because I need to wait until he’s born safe before I can fight Adrian in court.” I set down the phone. “The divorce will happen. Just not yet. Not when it could cost me my baby.”Clara squeezed my hand. “That’s smart. Protect him first. Fight later.”“Fight later,” I repeated. “When I’m stronger. When he’s safe.

“It is exactly that simple. Your son was just born. Where do you want to be? Here or there?”More silence.Then he pulled out his phone. Stepped into the corner. Made a call I couldn’t quite hear.When he came back, his expression was carefully neutral.“I told her I’m staying.”“For how long?”“The night.”One night. He could give his newborn son one night.I should have been grateful. Instead, I felt nothing but contempt.But I let him hold Ethan. Watched as he cradled our son awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with something so small and fragile.“He’s so tiny,” Adrian whispered.“Seven pounds, four ounces,” the nurse said. “Good size for full term.”Adrian looked at me over Ethan’s head. “Thank you. For… for carrying him. For keeping him safe.”I wanted to scream. Wanted to tell him that keeping Ethan safe meant surviving months in a house where I was hated, then three months on bed rest because the stress almost killed us both.But I was too tired. Too wrung out. Too focus

The first few days were deceptively peaceful.I stayed in the nursery mostly, feeding Ethan, changing him, learning the rhythm of his cries. Clara hovered like a protective guard dog, intercepting anyone who tried to enter without permission.Adrian visited twice. Both times for less than fifteen minutes. Both times he held Ethan like the baby might shatter, then made excuses about conference calls.I told myself I didn’t care. Told myself we were better off without him anyway.Then day four happened.I woke up at 2 AM to feed Ethan, stumbling to the nursery in the dark. But when I pushed open the door, the lamp was already on.Vivian sat in my glider chair, holding my son.“What are you doing?” My voice came out sharp. Panicked.She looked up, not startled at all. Like she’d been expecting me.“He was crying. I heard him from down the hall. I didn’t want him to wake the whole house.”“So you just came in and took him? Without asking?”“You were sleeping. I was helping.” She stood, br

Rebecca Chen’s office was on the fortieth floor of a glass tower in Manhattan. Minimalist. Expensive. The kind of place that charges by the minute just to breathe the air.I sat across from her desk, Ethan sleeping in his carrier at my feet, Clara beside me. We’d been here for thirty minutes while Rebecca reviewed everything. The recordings Clara had made on her phone. The statements from the staff member who’d witnessed the breakfast confrontation. My documentation of Vivian’s intrusion into the nursery.Finally, Rebecca set down her pen and looked at me.“I need to be honest with you, Serena. Right now, the odds aren’t in your favor.”My stomach dropped. “What do you mean? You said what he did was ammunition. You said—”“I know what I said. And it is ammunition. But it’s not enough. Not yet.” She pulled out a legal pad covered in notes. “Here’s what a judge will see: Adrian is the primary breadwinner. He has a stable home with extensive resources. He has staff, space, and the financ