All Chapters of My Tyrant CEO: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Sissy Sari onlineLol and you didn't faint?13:57√√seen...I was so close to Emma13:57Look at him -he's a good13:57eh13:58√√he is handsome, but not my type13:57√√Just nc he has a beard, right? ;)13:58and he's ur bf13:58√√Not yet13:58I'm still married13:58u made out w him, idiot13:58√√fuck Noah13:58√√I do hate him! 13:58But I don't want the divorce to get even more complicated!!13:59I'll play it safe and wait13:59And he's playing along?13:59√√He told me on Saturday he will wait for me until I like him back14:04ok, but like don't push him away14:04√√he's like an updated and better version of Noah.14:04√√He's nothing like Noah and thank god for that!!14:05Like, look at him!14:04I rolled my eyes, then the picture came.I told her to go back to work and not to spam me with him.'If you like him so much, tell him Sara. Don't be complicated shishta!', I told her before I turned off my phone.My friends came back with our McDonald's order and we chatted

Sara's POVThe first thing I did once I got home was lose it.I literally lost it.I had a meltdown.I tugged the covers off my bed and threw them away. He had slept on them. I would have burned them if I had a fucking lighter.I threw away the clothes he had seen me in. I threw away the clothes he had touched on me. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. Like him. Like that fucking liar.I blocked his number.I threw everything away that was related to him in any sort of way:The stuff from work, the mug he had used after breakfast, the plate he had used, the shower stuff he had touched, the newspaper he had red; anything that I remembered about him, anything my fingers crawled onto I threw away, destroyed or yelled at.But only myself I couldn't throw away. So, I needed to distance myself as far away from him as I could.I took a sponge and scrubbed the spots he had kissed and touched until my skin was red and hurt at every movement. Now I had fully erased him from my life.That's when I slipped down

Michael's POV"You can't continue like this, Michael", tatie's unforgettable voice made me groan loudly.My private pilot had flown me to the airport where my driver had picked me and the others up. Before I could even grasp what I was doing, I had stood in front of Marthe's house with my suitcase and briefcase in my hands and Marie and Gerard by my side.The first day I had laid in my room and did nothing, until the memories suffocated me, so I went out and ran from our village to the next, without even me noticing it. I collapsed the moment I entered the house and had slept at the entrance.The second day I didn't even spend another minute inside. I got up, brushed my teeth, went to the city and bought as much alcohol as I could.The 63-year-old woman stood there with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot.If you looked at my mother's aunt, you would think she was my real mother. I had her eyes and her once blonde hair had been the same shade of mine, we even had the same nose. Sa

I don't know when and how I had gotten home, nor when I had fallen asleep, but here I was, lying on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around me. I glanced around until I remembered where I was.Gordes. Aunt Marthe. The fight.Soft voices came from the kitchen as well as the smell of food. And it smelled delicious. Water collected in my mouth and my stomach grumbled. It wasn't a usual thing for tatie Marthe to prepare a big breakfast. We usually just ate a croissant and had a cup of coffee with it. Yesterday must have riled her up.I despised it when I worried my family. I didn't want them to baby me, nor did I want them to think of the times my parents had divorced. Yes, it had been hard and yes, my brother's death had made me get help from a psychiatrist, but I was at a better place now.I glanced at the calendar and my hunger disappeared almost immediately. It was the 27th of February.I plopped back onto the sofa, my mind loud, full of questions, confused.How has it already been 12

Aunt Marthe had this table, this god-awful old table, that had a wobbly leg and was annoying me to my very core. She had bought it when I had been 15 on the flea market and had placed it in the kitchen, where it was used as extra storage space.My uncle and I frowned at it any time it moved, any time we saw it, any time she refused to get rid of it.The reason why it was such a bad table was because she had built it herself.People often wondered why I could build, and the house of my aunt was what I would point them to. Somebody had to know how to handle tools, or else something would fall onto our heads at any time.I lifted my mug and the table wobbled; I furrowed my brows. "Let me buy you a new one – please." "Humbug! It still does its job and I love it, Michael!" I raised my brow at the wax and jam spots on the old walnut table. Tatie was usually against wooden pieces, but this one had stolen her heart. My aunt often joked she loved the table as much as she loved uncle."I'm su