The Alpha CEO

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce Revenge Female-centered Divorce

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My heart bangs like crazy as I float to floor forty-two. The slick doors gleam like glass, showing me—my dark hair's good, dress ironed, but hands shake. Tonight's the party, and Ethan Hart needs me for the big talk.

Most would cheer at this chance. I should cheer. But all that’s found is nerves.

I've been here two years, seeing Ethan Hart four hundred thirty-two times. I counted from month one. He grabs stares without trying. He’s tall, dark hair, green eyes that seem to watch all. Rooms hush when he walks in. Words matter when he speaks. Strangely, he looks glum. Like he has a big weight on him.

And he's not seen me, ever.

Well, not until yesterday, at least.

I leave the lift and head to my spot. The office hums with folks rushing, fixing, making sure all is set for night. Mia, my pal, sits close by. She’s in a red dress that shouts movie star vibes.

"You're here now!" she cries, leaping to hug me fast. "I've waited all day for you. Did you read my texts? I said let's do nails before the party. See mine!" She shows her hands, nails shining gold.

I grin at her, while my belly twists a bit. "Those seem fine," I mention softly. "I just stayed busy with designs for Ethan."

Mia looked annoyed. "Lila, work, work. When's playtime?" Quietly, she gets closer. "Plus, dreamy guy tonight. Maybe he sees you finally."

"Mia," I murmur, cheeks heating up a bit. "He won't see me. I'm just a designer, that's it. He's the big CEO."

"So what?" Mia replies. "You're sharp and pretty and good. Why wouldn't he see you?"

I'm stuck, so I just got back to work. Though, my heart jumps thinking about seeing him once more.

Around lunch, my boss needs me in his space. Derek's his name, nice but a bit bland. He says Ethan wants my help with tonight's talk. I agree, nodding, but my hands get damp all of sudden. Derek wants me in Ethan's room way up high.

The lift takes ages getting up there now. Arriving, things feel very changed. Walls are smooth, lights dimmed a lot, and big views showing the city below. I stroll the hall, trying to chill myself. The glass shows me, a girl who is very scared.

The door to his room is wide open. He sits still, eyes glued to the screen. A dark suit, paired with a crisp white shirt but no tie. His sleeves are pushed up just enough. A tattoo hides there, a secret sign I had not seen before now.

A gentle tap. "Hello, Mr. Hart," I greeted him. "Derek thought you'd want my help with that slide show."

He lifts his face, and our eyes lock for a heartbeat. A strange flicker crosses his face. Eyes widen, as if I'm a ghost he’s seeing for the first time. A lonely soul in existence.

The look vanishes fast. His face turns back to stone, all hard lines.

"Come on in," he says now. His voice is low, no warmth. "Time is short, so we must work."

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