Lahat ng Kabanata ng I’m Back, Mr. CEO : Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

A smile curved Margaret’s lips. The same smile she’d worn when we’d destroyed Serena in court eight years ago.“The same way we did before. Find her weaknesses. Exploit them. Make sure when she returns to New York, she remembers exactly why she left.”I looked at the magazine again. At Serena’s confident face.She thought she’d won. Thought she’d become untouchable.But power was my game. I’d been playing it my entire life.And I always won.“Set up a meeting,” I said. “With our lawyers. Our PR team. Anyone who has leverage in the fashion world. If Serena Moore wants to come back to New York, we’ll make sure she regrets it.”Margaret’s smile widened. “Now you’re thinking clearly. I’ll make the calls.”She left. I remained at my desk, darkness falling outside my windows, the city lights beginning to glow.Somewhere out there, Serena was preparing to return. Probably feeling victorious. Powerful. Ready for her grand entrance.She had no idea what was waiting for her.Eight years ago, I’

**ADRIAN POV**The invitation arrived at my office on black cardstock with silver lettering.**ETHEREAL** **Phoenix Collection** **New York Fashion Week** **Spring Studios** **November 15th, 7 PM** **By Invitation Only**My name was handwritten on the envelope in elegant script. Not printed. Handwritten. Like she’d personally selected me to receive this.I turned it over in my hands, studying every detail. The quality of the paper. The precise embossing. The subtle perfume that clung to it—something expensive and unfamiliar.Everything about it screamed success. Sophistication. Power.Everything I’d told myself Serena could never achieve.“Is that the invitation?” Vivian appeared in my office doorway without knocking. She’d been doing that more often lately—appearing without warning, checking on me, making sure I wasn’t doing anything she didn’t approve of.“Yes.”She crossed to my desk, picked it up. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “She invited you personally. How b

**ADRIAN POV** I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Three days since the show. Three days since I’d watched Serena walk down that runway like she owned the world. Three days since she’d looked me in the eye and walked away when I tried to speak to her. And I couldn’t get it out of my head. The fashion show had been spectacular. Even I, who knew nothing about fashion, could see that. The collection was extraordinary. The craftsmanship impeccable. The vision clear and powerful. But it was Serena herself who’d stunned me. Not the clothes. Not the success. Her. She’d walked onto that stage in a simple black suit and commanded the entire room with nothing but her presence. Confident. Powerful. Utterly transformed from the broken woman I’d last seen eight years ago. And when our eyes met across that runway, I’d felt something I hadn’t felt in years. Want. Not love. I didn’t love Serena. I’d never loved Serena. I’d married her because she was suitable. Safe. The kind of wif

**SERENA POV**The week after Fashion Week was a blur of meetings.Buyers. Press interviews. Contract negotiations. Orders pouring in faster than my team could process them. Bergdorf Goodman wanted exclusive rights to five pieces. Neiman Marcus was offering seven figures for a capsule collection. Harrods wanted to expand their ETHEREAL section.Success beyond my wildest projections.Yet I felt hollow.Because everywhere I went in New York, I felt him. Adrian. His presence in this city was like a shadow I couldn’t escape. Every restaurant might have him at a corner table. Every event might have him in attendance. Every moment, I was braced for an encounter I didn’t want.“You need to celebrate,” Clara said on Friday evening. We were in my hotel suite, reviewing the week’s contracts. “You just had the most successful Fashion Week debut in recent history. You should be out there, being seen, enjoying your victory.”“I am enjoying it. Quietly.”“You’re hiding. Again. In a different way th

I saw him by accident.Three weeks after Fashion Week. Three weeks of meetings and contract negotiations and pretending I wasn’t slowly falling apart inside. Three weeks of existing in the same city as my son and not being able to see him.I’d been walking through Central Park with Clara. Early morning. Cold. The park is mostly empty except for joggers and dog walkers. We’d needed air. I needed to escape the hotel suite that was starting to feel like a cage.We’d stopped for coffee at a small café on the Upper West Side. Sat outside despite the cold, watching the city wake up.That’s when I saw them.A nanny pushing a stroller with a little girl. And beside her, a boy. Eight years old. Dark hair. Adrian’s eyes. Walking with his hands in his pockets, looking at everything with curious intelligence.Ethan.My son.The world stopped. The sound faded. Everything narrowed to just him. The way he walked. The way he tilted his head when the nanny said something. The way he smiled at his litt