Semua Bab Divorce to Destiny: Reclaiming My CEO Husband: Bab 531 - Bab 540

(Winona)The dining table feels more like a boardroom today. Jayden’s laptop is open, his notes meticulously organized. Anne sits beside him, her ever-calm presence keeping us in check.I’m across from them, sipping coffee like it’s a lifeline. I’m nervous and nowhere near as organized as Jayden looks.“Anyone think you’re vetting the CEO of Nexus Global,” I say, glancing at Jayden’s neatly printed spreadsheets. “Just as important,” he counters, tapping his pen against the table. “This person is going to live here, help raise our kids, and be part of our lives. I’m not leaving this to chance.” “Fair,” I admit, “but this can’t be about just what’s on paper. It has to feel like the right match.” Anne brings some crackers over. “We’ll find someone and I’m quite happy to keep doing it until we do. Don’t feel pressured to choose today.”“Anne, you need a life. You’ll always be a part of this family, the kid’s Nanny Anne. But I want you to be able to have a grandmother role, not a primar

(Winona)“To be fair,” River says, “we didn’t know why we were coming. Gus just said to meet some cool people.”“And hang out with some kids,” Kit adds. “Mission accomplished.”I stiffen and I’m not sure whether to yell at Gus or just accept defeat.“They’re great!” Bobby exclaimed, looking up from the Switch. “Kit knows all the cool games. He’s way better than you, Dad.”“Thanks, son,” Jayden mutters dryly.“And River’s an artist!” Abbey adds, holding up the sketch—a surprisingly detailed picture of Abbey wearing a glittery crown.“It’s beautiful!” I say, surprised.“Thanks,” River answers. “Your kids are pretty inspiring.”“They’ve been telling us all about their adventures in Europe,” Kit looks genuinely amazed. “They’ve seen more of the world than we have. We love to travel. But funds are an issue. We find private gigs more profitable than formal teaching jobs. And less… regimented.”“With all due respect, you might not be ready for the chaos these four cause.”River nods. “I come

(Winona)Today isn’t just any meeting—it’s the meeting. The one where the board either gets behind my vision for the app’s future or decides I’m just a placeholder CEO with a famous name.I step out of the bedroom, grabbing my portfolio from the dresser. Jayden is in the kitchen like he doesn’t have a million things to do before he leaves for Brussels.He looks up as I walk in, his gaze sweeping over me in that slow, assessing way.“Wow! Stunning. You look like you could fire everyone before they’ve even said hello,” he says, smirking.I huff, placing my portfolio into my leather briefcase. “I’m considering it.”“Nervous?”I scoff. “No.”He raises an eyebrow. “Winona.”“Fine, I’m nervous. Only a lot,” I quip.Jayden folds his arms. “They’d be idiots not to get behind you. You’ve already proven it’s your priority.”“That doesn’t mean they’re going to just hand me the budget I need,” I counter. “The marketing strategy is aggressive. The rebrand isn’t cheap. The amount of money I’m askin

(Lisa)I stare at my phone, half-considering throwing it out the window.Logan Bennett.The text sits there, taunting me. Of course he’d have my number on record. But I still wasn’t expecting him to flick me a text anytime soon.Can I stop by? We need to talk.I want to say no. But it has to be dealt with. I know I have to make a decision.I’m free tomorrow.No reply after a few minutes. Whatever. I’m easy either way, buddy.I sigh, slumping back on my couch. Thanks for reminding me just before bedtime that my entire life is a tangled mess of secrets, unanswered questions, and morning sickness.I think about the USB. Still untouched in the back of my cupboard. Still part of shit I don’t want to deal with. I don’t need to deal with whatever is on there. It won’t change one thing I’m dealing with now.It can stay in the cupboard.A sharp knock at the door pulls me out of my spiral. I drag myself up and swing it open.And there he is.Same damn face. Same damn eyes.But different.“Oh… y

(Cass)By the time the last dish is stacked, my arms feel like they’re made of lead. My back aches, my hands sting from endless scrubbing, and I swear I’ll smell like onion peels and garlic skins for the next month. It’s nearly two a.m. But I’m still standing. Barely. The Brussels estate kitchen is a monster. The lunch service alone had my head spinning—three different menus running at once, dignitaries arriving early, last-minute changes because some VIP decided they’re suddenly vegan but still want the flavor of foie gras. Fine dining is bullshit. And I love it. I grab a clean cloth and wipe the sink and counters dry, catching my blurry reflection in the shiny steel of the dishwasher. Flushed cheeks, hair barely contained in my headscarf, exhaustion written all over my face. The executive chef—aka Satan in a toque—barks at the nightshift team, sending them scrambling into action while I keep my head down. I learned that trick fast.Do the grunt work, keep your mouth shut, don