My CEO Ex-husband Regret의 모든 챕터: 챕터 1 - 챕터 10

CHLOEThe sterile smell of the hospital clung to my clothes as I walked out of Dr. Evans’s office. The small, grainy sonogram picture in my hand felt heavier than a block of concrete."Your uterine environment is incredibly fragile," the doctor’s voice echoed in my head. "If you lose this baby, the damage could make it impossible to conceive again. You must avoid all stress, Chloe. Absolute rest."I carefully tucked the picture into my purse, my fingers trembling slightly. Three years. Three years of a loveless, arranged marriage to Damian Sterling, the ruthless and untouchable CEO of the Sterling empire. To the outside world, I was the lucky Mrs. Sterling. But behind the closed doors of our penthouse, I was nothing more than a ghost.I ran my thumb over the leather of my purse. Maybe, I thought, a fragile hope blooming in my chest. Maybe this will finally thaw his heart. Maybe this baby is the miracle we need.Damian had been away on a month-long business trip in Europe. I could not

CHLOEThe airport terminal was freezing. Or maybe it was just me.I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair at the departure gate, hugging my thin trench coat tightly to my chest. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with a harsh, grating sound that made my head throb. I had bought a one-way ticket to the farthest city I could afford. A place where no one knew Damian Sterling. A place where I could disappear and start over.But my body was violently rebelling.A sharp, twisting pain suddenly knifed through my lower abdomen. I gasped, dropping my purse as my hand flew to my stomach. The pain was intense, radiating down my legs and stealing the breath from my lungs. I looked down and felt my blood run cold. A terrifying spot of red was seeping through my pale blue jeans.No. Not now. Please, not now.Dr. Evans's warning echoed in my ears, loud and unforgiving. A thin uterine lining increases the risk of miscarriage. Any severe stress could cause you to lose the baby.I had tried so har

CHLOEEight months later, the cheap motel room looked less like a place to hide and more like a war room.Fabric swatches covered the floor. Paint chips and blueprints littered the stained carpet. My heavy laptop sat in the center of the bed, surrounded by empty coffee cups and crumpled receipts.I was running on caffeine and sheer willpower.The boutique hotel project was my only lifeline. Mr. Henderson, the developer who had taken a massive chance on me, was shocked by my work ethic. I threw myself into the work with a ferocity I didn't know I possessed.I didn't just design the space. I negotiated with local suppliers. I haggled for cheaper materials. I stood on my feet for twelve hours a day at the construction site, supervising the crew.The construction site was dusty and loud. The smell of fresh paint and sawdust made my stomach churn every morning. I ignored it. I ignored the way my vision would swim black at the edges when I stood up too fast."You are a machine, Chloe," Mr.

CHLOE They discharged me on a Thursday morning under a sky the color of wet concrete.The nurse wheeled me to the main entrance with Leo’s discharge papers in a clear plastic folder on my lap. He was still in the NICU. The doctors would not release him for at least another twelve days. I was allowed to leave only because my incision was healing and the hospital needed the bed.I signed the final forms in the lobby while a cold draft pushed through the automatic doors. The social worker handed me a list of local resources. Food banks. Temporary housing. A clinic that offered sliding-scale care. I folded the paper once and slid it into my bag without looking at it.Outside, the air smelled of rain and exhaust. I stood on the sidewalk with my single suitcase and the empty car seat the hospital had required me to take. The car seat felt like a cruel joke. I had no car. I had no baby in my arms.I walked six blocks to the bus stop, moving carefully so the stitches would not pull. Every st

CHLOEFive years later, I was one of the most powerful women in Oakhaven.I stood at the head of a massive mahogany table in the center of a glass boardroom. The holographic projector hummed softly, casting a glowing blueprint of the new Oakhaven Waterfront project into the air.Around the table sat a dozen corporate executives, all of them hanging onto my every word.Vance Interiors had become a global powerhouse. We didn't just design buildings anymore. We designed entire skylines, luxury resorts, and private islands. I had a staff of fifty, a penthouse overlooking the mountains, and a personal net worth that rivaled the men who used to look down on me.I was wearing a tailored white pantsuit and four-inch heels. My hair was sleek, my makeup was flawless, and my eyes were as cold as a frozen lake."As you can see," I said, my voice crisp and commanding, "the projected return on investment for this waterfront development is thirty percent higher than your current portfolio. We have s