All Chapters of The CEO’s Curve of Fate: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Seeking a moment of peace, Giselle retreated to the dessert lounge. She picked up a small silver fork, determined to comfort her aching heart with a slice of the magnificent, multi-tiered white chocolate wedding cake."Careful, Giselle. If you eat any more of that, your next dress will have to be made by a tent manufacturer."Giselle froze. She didn't need to turn around to recognize the sharp, honeyed voice. Julia Lee stepped into the dimly lit lounge, looking impossibly elegant. She held a glass of expensive champagne, her eyes sweeping over Giselle with a look of supreme victory."Julia," Giselle said, her voice dropping into a low, sarcastic purr as she gripped her fork. "I didn't think uninvited stray dogs were allowed past the Plaza's security."Julia’s smile didn't falter. She stepped closer, her perfume cloying and suffocating. "Oh, sweetie, I don't need an invitation when the groom is the one who wanted me here. Look at you, acting like you actually won something today." Juli

The cold night air of the alleyway did nothing to soothe the burning humiliation consuming Giselle. She collapsed against the damp brick wall, her emerald-green silk gown stained with dirt, tears completely ruining her makeup. Her shoulders shook violently as sob after sob tore from her throat. She had never felt so utterly small, so violently discarded. The mocking laughter of Manhattan’s elite still rang in her ears, paired with the ice-cold venom in Darel’s voice. A curse. A shameful, embarrassing joke. She clutched her bruised upper arm where Darel had gripped her, her vision blurred by an endless stream of tears. She wanted to disappear. She wanted the cold asphalt to swallow her whole. "A gown that beautiful shouldn't touch the dirt of a New York alley." Giselle froze. A deep, smooth baritone broke through the quiet street, carrying a strange blend of quiet authority and unexpected warmth. Through her tear-filled eyes, she looked up. A tall, broad-shouldered figure stoo

Chapter 6: A Better Reason The divorce papers had barely dried before Giselle Davis declared war. Not against Darel, but against the woman she had become while loving him. Every morning before sunrise, she forced herself out of bed, and every evening, she collapsed onto the oversized couch in her apartment with muscles that screamed in protest. The tears had stopped, replaced entirely by sweat. She refused to cry over Darel King ever again. If changing her body meant burying the insecure woman he had destroyed, then she would do it—no matter the cost.*** Three weeks later, the fitness center overlooking Central Park was already crowded despite the early hour. The rhythmic pounding of running shoes echoed across rows of treadmills while upbeat music blasted from hidden speakers. Giselle tightened her ponytail before stepping onto an empty machine. "Thirty minutes," she whispered to herself. Her body protested immediately. She had already spent nearly two hours lifting weights be

Giselle stared down at the digital screen in disbelief. She stepped off, took a deep breath, and climbed back on, but the screen flashed the exact same result. A whole week of effort, and not a single pound lost. After everything she had done—every early morning, every grueling workout, and every carefully weighed meal—nothing had changed. She sighed heavily and sat on the edge of her bed, wrapping her arms around her knees. Maybe Darel had been right all along. Maybe this body simply wasn't meant to change. Her phone vibrated on the mattress, breaking her downward spiral. Braden: I'm outside. *** Fifteen minutes later, Giselle climbed into Braden's car. Usually, she greeted him with a bright smile or a sarcastic quip, but today, she immediately turned her head to stare out the window. Braden noticed the shift before he even pulled out of the driveway. "Tough morning?" "I'm fine," she forced a rigid smile. "Hmm," Braden started the engine. "You've been spending t

Sunday morning arrived wrapped in golden sunlight spilling through Giselle’s bedroom window. She stood barefoot in front of the digital scale, clutching the hem of her oversized T-shirt. It had been nearly two weeks since she last stepped on it. Braden had practically forbidden the daily check-ins. "The scale only measures your relationship with gravity," he had told her with that grounded, calm authority of his. "It doesn't measure your discipline, your strength, or your progress." Still, today curiosity won. Inhaling deeply, she stepped onto the glass platform. The digital numbers blinked, shifted, and finally settled. Giselle blinked, frowning in disbelief. She stepped off, took a breath, and climbed back on. The numbers remained exactly the same. A slow, radiant smile spread across her face, her hands flying to her mouth. "Three kilos..." she whispered the words under her breath, as if saying them too loudly might make the victory vanish. She had officially lost three