Divorce Countdown: The CEO Moves Right In

car, time had stopped. Julian's hands were locked on the steering wh

gle greatest mis

of her supposed deceit and his own righteous anger. He was the victim, she

had taken a sledgehammer to that f

d admi

she loat

uilding in the West Village-the gra

alm and deliberate. Her emotional storm had passed, leaving behind a chilli

l. "That's what's left on the prenup. It's what you've

usting, baseless possessiveness and aim it at someone else.

k. She walked into the building without a backward glance,

The word disgust replayed in his mind-a relentless, punishing loop. For th

ould end this, the one who would walk away. The divorce was his t

he seconds until she could be free of him. The realization was intole

He made decisions with cold precision-mergers, acquisitions, hostile take

someone else-it made something twist violently in his chest. A dark, irrational panic surged through him, overriding every log

ngine-not driving away, but pulling a sharp U-turn. H

d and urgent. "I want everything-my clothes, my files, my bar-everything

ilence on the other e

" Julian snapp

ushions of the sofa. She was emotionally and physically exhausted, but underneath the fat

uture. Ten months. Then London, maybe. Or back to Ca

buzz of the intercom

orman with a package. She walked over to th

kered to life made

any, standing in the hallway outside her door. And behind th

as a choked whisp

d evening, Mrs. Carlisle-Vanderbilt. We're

the camera lens-directly at her. His voice came throug

hloe. As of tonig