Divorcing the CEO: He Never Wanted Me Until I Left

The six a.m. light was thin and gray, filtering into the kitchen as Boston stirred below.

Estella, already dressed for work in a crisp blouse and tailored dark trousers, was pouring herself a black coffee. Her scrubs were packed in her hospital bag, ready for her to change into before surgery. The sharp, bitter aroma was a comfort.

A faint whirring sound came from the private elevator, followed by the soft beep of the door's keypad.

Her hand, holding the coffee mug, paused mid-air.

Alden walked in.

He wore yesterday's suit. It was wrinkled, but it couldn't diminish the powerful aura that clung to him like a second skin. He strode past her without a glance, as if she were a piece of furniture.

As if she were air.

Estella didn't speak. She brought the mug to her lips and drank, responding to his silence with her own. An invisible wall, three years in the making, stood firm between them.

He was heading for the study. His footsteps were impatient, hurried. He was here to retrieve something.

She leaned against the kitchen island, listening to the sounds of him shuffling through papers. She had a complex eight-hour corneal transplant surgery today. She didn't have time for this.

The noise from the study stopped abruptly.

A few seconds later, Alden appeared in the doorway. He held a thick manila envelope. The embossed logo of David Chen's law firm was visible on the corner.

He hadn't opened it, but he knew.

His gaze moved from the envelope to her, his expression tightening slightly.

"What is this supposed to be?"

His voice was low and controlled, more wary than angry.

Estella set her coffee mug down. The sound of ceramic against the marble countertop was sharp and clear.

"It's a formal notice regarding our divorce, Alden. The contents are self-explanatory."

For a moment, Alden simply looked at her. Then a faint, humorless smile touched his mouth, as though he had already decided what this was really about. He walked to the console table in the entryway and set the envelope down on top of the mail.

"We're in the middle of a critical merger, Estella." His tone carried weary impatience rather than anger. "If you're trying to get my attention, there are easier ways to do it."

He had found what he was looking for--a blue file folder.

A flame of rage ignited inside her, but her expression remained a placid, frozen surface. Any emotional reaction was a victory for him.

"That's precisely why I've retained counsel."

She looked directly at him, her voice even. "From now on, all communication regarding our... arrangement will be handled by our lawyers. Please instruct Gunner accordingly."

His steps toward the door halted.

He hated losing control. And now she was using his own language, the rules of business, to strip him of his power over this relationship.

He turned back toward her. A flicker of disbelief crossed his dark brown eyes. Perhaps for the first time, he seemed to realize she might actually mean it. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he met her gaze. Her blue eyes were so calm they were cold. The words caught in his throat.

In the end, he said nothing.

He just clutched the blue folder and strode toward the door.

"Don't make a decision you'll regret," he said quietly before he left.

The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The force of it shook a painting on the wall.

Estella stood alone in the vast, silent living room.

Only after she was sure he was gone did she let out a slow breath. Her fingernails had dug so deeply into her palm that they left four small, red crescents on her skin.

She walked to the entryway, picked up the envelope he had discarded, and placed it carefully inside her handbag.