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ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY SEVEN
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MR. CEO WANTS HIS EX-WIFE BACK ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT
JOCELIA'S POVThe tension in the room could crush a steel pipe, and I could feel the weight of the conversation bearing down on me. My father was sitting behind his massive oak desk, his fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm on the polished surface. The board members had just left, their murmurs of discontent still lingering in the air like a foul stench. I knew better than to speak out of turn, but I couldn’t keep the question bottled up any longer."So... Grayson didn’t agree with the proposal about marrying me?" I asked, trying to sound as meek and non-confrontational as possible. I could see the storm brewing in my father’s eyes, and the last thing I wanted was to be the one to set it off.He didn’t look up from the papers scattered across his desk as he responded. "No, he didn’t."There was no emotion in his voice, just cold, hard fact. I bit my lip, the words of reassurance I wanted to offer caught in my throat. My father had poured a lot of effort into this arrangement, be
MR. CEO WANTS HIS EX-WIFE BACK ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY NINE
SYLVIA'S POVAs I stood in the middle of the penthouse, boxes piled high around me, I took a deep breath. Today had been a whirlwind. After the chaos of the past few weeks, Grayson, Paul, and Rex were finally settling into the penthouse. I figured the least I could do was make the transition a bit smoother by ordering some pizza and grabbing a few essentials for the kitchen.“Pizza’s on the way,” I called out to the guys as they busied themselves with unpacking.Grayson glanced up from a box he was sorting through, giving me a grateful nod. “You’re a lifesaver, Sylvia. We’ll need the fuel.”I smiled back, but my mind was already shifting to the next task. I grabbed my keys and headed out to the car. The penthouse was luxurious, no doubt, but it was still missing a few personal touches. I decided to pick up some groceries while the guys were busy, thinking ahead to what meals I could prepare for the week.The drive to the store was quick, but it gave me a moment to collect my thoughts.
MR. CEO WANTS HIS EX-WIFE BACK ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY
GRAYSON'S POVAs I sat on the edge of the couch, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Jocelia, with her perfectly calculated crocodile tears, was spewing all sorts of lies and venom on national television. The words "Sylvia stole Grayson from me" echoed in my head, and I couldn't help but wonder how I had ever been in love with someone like her. There she was, painting herself as the victim, while slandering Sylvia in every way she could think of. She called her a whore, claiming that Sylvia only rose to power by "climbing on men’s dicks," as she so crudely put it. My blood boiled as I listened to her tirade.I glanced over at Sylvia, who was sitting next to me, her eyes fixed on the TV. I knew that Jocelia had always been a thorn in her side, someone who never missed an opportunity to try and bring her down. But this was different—this was public, and this was low, even for Jocelia.The host of the late-night show, a man who thrived on controversy, leaned in with a smug expression.
MR. CEO WANTS HIS EX-WIFE BACK ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ONE
SYLVIA'S POVI woke up that morning with a sense of determination, shaking off the lingering frustration from Jocelia's pathetic attempt at a smear campaign last night. She'd gone on some talk show, spouting her usual nonsense, but I couldn’t let that get to me. My day was packed with important tasks, and I needed to stay focused. The kids were already up and about, Zenith playing with his toys while Zendaya was brushing her hair in the bathroom. After getting them ready for school, I made sure they had their lunches packed and kissed them goodbye as they headed out the door.I took a deep breath as I dressed for work, selecting a sleek navy-blue dress that would command respect without being too flashy. Today was a big day for the company—the opening of our newly refurbished building. This wasn’t just any building; it represented the growth and resilience of my business, the very things Jocelia had tried to undermine. I glanced at the clock and grabbed my keys, determined to make the
MR. CEO WANTS HIS EX-WIFE BACK ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TWO
JOCELIA'S POVI sat on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen with mounting rage. The headlines about me were plastered across every social media platform, every news site, and even the local tabloids. **Sylvia's little section** where she covered her company’s move had completely destroyed me. The way she twisted the narrative, turning me into the villain, had shifted everyone’s perspective against me.I scrolled through the comments under the articles and videos. *“The crazy ex-girlfriend strikes again!”* *“Can’t believe she’s still clinging to Grayson. Pathetic.”* The comments were ripping me apart, dragging not just my name through the mud but extending their insults to my family. My family's once-reputable name was now synonymous with failure, all because of Sylvia’s manipulative tactics.“That bitch,” I muttered under my breath, feeling the familiar burn of humiliation rise up my chest. How could one little thing she said change the whole narrative? How could e
MR. CEO WANTS HIS EX-WIFE BACK ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY THREE
ALICE'S POVI sat in my office, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. The hum of the city outside my window was muffled by the thick glass, leaving me in a silence that was only broken by the faint chatter seeping through the door. My fingers drummed a slow, steady rhythm on the polished mahogany desk, my eyes fixed on the door as I listened intently to the sounds outside.Curiosity got the better of me, and I leaned forward, pressing the intercom button on my desk. “Julia,” I called, my voice steady, “what’s going on out there?”Within seconds, the door opened, and my assistant, Julia, stepped inside, her expression a mix of concern and mild amusement. “It’s Jocelia,” she said, her voice hushed as if the woman in question might still be lurking around the corner. “She was here to see Grayson, but he… he chased her out. It was quite a scene.”I arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? What exactly happened?”Julia stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspira
MR. CEO WANTS HIS EX-WIFE BACK ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FOUR
JOCELIA'S POVI drove home in a daze, the streets of Manhattan blurring around me as my mind replayed the day’s events over and over again. My plans to change the narrative, to claw back some semblance of control, had crumbled. Each time I thought I was making progress, something or someone was there to push me back into a corner. The rearview mirror caught my reflection, and I saw the mess I’d become—my face streaked with mascara, mixed with the tears I’d tried so hard to hold back. My perfectly curated image, now ruined, like everything else in my life.By the time I pulled into my father’s penthouse garage, it felt as if all the strength had drained from my body. I parked the car, took a deep breath, and tried to steady my trembling hands. The keys slipped from my grasp as I grabbed my bag, and I cursed under my breath. Leaning down to pick them up, I told myself I just needed to get inside, to find a way to piece myself together again. My father might not understand, but at least
MR. CEO WANTS HIS EX-WIFE BACK ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE
GRAYSON'S POVI sat in my office chair, fingers drumming lightly on the sleek wooden surface of my desk, staring at the wall across from me. How dare Jocelia barge into my office as if she still had any place in my life? The audacity of that woman was beyond belief. Her desperate attempts to rekindle whatever it was she thought we had were laughable at best. I could almost see her in my mind’s eye, her perfectly painted lips curled into a smirk she probably thought was seductive. If she imagined she could warm her way back into my heart or manipulate me into anything, she was sorely mistaken.A sharp knock on the office door pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. "Come in," I called out, my voice more clipped than I intended.The door creaked open, and Stewart stepped inside, his familiar face offering a welcome distraction. "Afternoon, Grayson," he greeted me with a nod, his tone professional yet warm."Afternoon, Stewart," I replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. He didn’t, tho
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