All Chapters of I’m Back, Mr. CEO : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

**Five days later**The invitation came on expensive cardstock, delivered by Adrian’s assistant.*Annual Moore Enterprises Investor Dinner* *The Plaza Hotel, Grand Ballroom* *Black Tie Required* *Your presence is requested*I found Adrian in his study that evening, reviewing documents.“I’m not going to this dinner.”He didn’t look up. “Yes, you are.”“I have a two-week-old baby. I’m not leaving him for some corporate event.”“Mrs. Harmon will watch him. That’s what she’s here for.”“I don’t want her watching him for hours while I play trophy wife at your dinner.”“It’s important. The investors need to see that Moore Enterprises is stable. That includes stable family life.” He finally looked at me. “Mother insists you attend.”Of course she did.“What about Vivian? Is she going?”“Yes. As my executive consultant. She’s been helping with the merger negotiations.”Executive consultant. That’s what they were calling her now.“So I’m supposed to stand there and smile while you parad

**One year later**I hadn’t left because Rebecca kept moving the timeline.First it was six months. Then nine. Then a year. Each time with the same reasoning: we need more evidence, Adrian’s lawyers are aggressive, the case isn’t airtight enough yet. Each time I’d agreed because the alternative was risking losing Ethan entirely.So I stayed. Documented everything. Played the perfect mother while my son’s first year passed in a house that felt like a prison.And during that year, Vivian had been patient. Calculating. Slowly, methodically working her way into Ethan’s life.-----*Six months ago*“Come to Auntie Viv, sweetie.”I’d looked up from Ethan’s diaper change to find Vivian in the nursery doorway, arms extended. Ethan, six months old and newly interested in faces, had turned toward her voice.“He’s fine where he is,” I’d said.“I’m just trying to bond with him. Emma adores her little brother. We all do.” Vivian had stepped closer. “You can’t keep him isolated forever, Serena. He

**The morning after**The divorce papers arrived at 9 AM.I was feeding Ethan breakfast when I heard raised voices downstairs. Adrian’s roar of fury echoed through the entire house.Clara looked at me. “That would be the papers.”“Good.”My hands were steady as I spooned oatmeal into Ethan’s mouth. A year ago, I would have been shaking. Terrified. Wondering if I’d made a mistake.Now I felt nothing but cold determination.Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. The nursery door slammed open.Adrian stood there, papers clutched in his fist, his face twisted with rage I’d never seen before.“What the hell is this?”“Divorce papers. I thought that was obvious.”“You’re filing for divorce? After everything I’ve done for you? After I let you stay in this house, gave you resources, hired help—”“Let me?” I set down the spoon carefully. “You let me stay in my own home? How generous.”“This is my house—”“And I’m your wife. Or I was. Now I’m just the woman filing for divorce and full custody o

The family court was nothing like I’d imagined.Not grand or imposing. Just a plain room with fluorescent lights and uncomfortable chairs. A judge’s bench. Two tables for opposing counsel. And behind me, a gallery with maybe ten seats where Clara sat, the only person on my side.Behind Adrian sat Margaret, Vivian, and three lawyers in expensive suits.The emergency custody hearing had been yesterday. The judge had denied Adrian’s petition, stating there was no immediate danger to Ethan and that custody would be determined in the full divorce proceedings.I’d won that round. Barely.Today was different. Today was the preliminary divorce hearing where temporary custody and living arrangements would be decided until the final decree.Rebecca sat beside me, her briefcase full of documentation. A year’s worth of evidence. Witness statements. Photos. Records of Adrian’s absences and Vivian’s interference.“Remember,” she whispered as we waited for the judge. “Stay calm. Don’t react to anyth

**Two weeks later**The psychiatric evaluation came back clean.No postpartum depression. No psychosis. No mental illness whatsoever. Just a woman under extreme stress responding rationally to an irrational situation.I’d thought it would save me. Thought the judge would see the truth and give Ethan back.I was wrong.“The evaluation is positive,” Judge Walters said from her bench. “However, Mrs. Moore, during your supervised visits, the monitors have reported concerning behavior.”My stomach dropped. “What behavior?”“Excessive crying in front of the child. Difficulty separating at the end of visits. And according to reports from Mr. Moore’s household, Ethan has adjusted well to his new living situation. He’s thriving.”Thriving. My son was thriving without me.“He cries for me,” I said desperately. “The visitation supervisor said he cries when I leave—”“Children cry during transitions. That’s normal. But according to testimony, he settles quickly once you’re gone and is happy and e