Divorced by the CEO, He Regrets it

Eleven.

Tiffany's POV

The revolving doors caught the morning light as I stepped through them, and for a second I let myself just stand there, feeling the marble beneath my heels, the cool hum of air conditioning against my skin.

My heart pounded so hard I was sure everyone could hear it, but my face didn't show any of it.

Five years of practicing composure for a marriage that didn't deserve it, at least that particular skill hadn't gone to waste.

The lobby noise dipped the second people noticed me.

It happened in a wave, conversations trailing off, heads turning, a young woman near the security desk nudging her coworker and whispering something behind her hand.

I kept walking, chin level, and made it almost to the reception desk before the receptionist looked up properly.

Her eyes went wide. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't…welcome, ma'am, I didn't realize…"

"There's nothing to apologize for," I said gently.

She flushed, fumbling with her badge scanner. "I started here about two years ago. Everyone talks about you, though. The stories are kind of legendary around here."

I laughed softly. "Good stories, I hope."

"Mostly," she said, smiling now, some of her nerves easing.

Before I could respond, a door near the far wall swung open, and Delia, one of the executive assistants who had been with the company since before I took over, came hurrying out with her hand pressed to her chest.

"It’s really you! ," she breathed, and then she was hugging me before I could even brace for it. "Welcome home, Miss Callahan."

"Delia." I squeezed her back, surprised by how much the sound of her voice settled something in me.

More followed. Mr. Sebastian from accounting, older now, silver threading through his hair, shook my hand like he was afraid I'd disappear if he let go too soon.

A woman I recognized from the design floor thanked me for coming back like I had personally saved something for her.

Someone near the back called out, only half joking, wondering if the cafeteria needed to start making my coffee order again.

I laughed, genuinely startled. "You still remember that?"

"Extra shot, splash of oat milk, no sugar," the man said proudly. "Some things don't get forgotten around here."

I didn't expect it to hit me the way it did, this small, ridiculous detail surviving five years without me. My throat tightened before I could stop it.

"Miss Callahan-Reyes."

Mr. Reynolds appeared at the edge of the small crowd, composed as always, a folder tucked beneath his arm.

"Ready when you are."

I looked around at the faces gathered near the lobby, people who'd known me before David, before I folded myself into someone smaller.

"It's good to see all of you again," I said. "Truly."

A quiet round of applause rippled through the lobby as I turned to follow Reynolds toward the executive elevator, and I had to blink hard against the sudden sting in my eyes.

"I forgot how much I missed this place," I admitted once the doors slid shut behind us.

Reynolds smiled, the kind of small, knowing smile he rarely gave. "The building never quite felt the same without you in it, if I'm honest."

"Tell me where things stand," I said, straightening. "Everything. Don't soften it for me."

He walked me through it as the elevator climbed, recent acquisitions, quarterly performance, two board discussions scheduled for later in the month that needed my input before they went further.

I asked questions as he spoke, sharper ones the longer he talked, and I could see the faint surprise on his face at how quickly it all came back to me.

"You never really left, did you," he said. "Not in here." He tapped his temple lightly.

"Some things don't get forgotten," I echoed, and he chuckled.

"Some of the board worried you might never come back," he added, more carefully now.

"Others insisted on keeping your chair exactly as it was, every single year. Never let anyone else sit in it."

I felt that in my chest, sharp and unexpected. "They kept it empty? For five years?"

"They believed you'd come home eventually."

"Thank you," I said quietly, "for never giving up on me."

He inclined his head, and neither of us said anything more as the elevator opened onto the executive floor.

Every head turned. Assistants rose from their desks, department heads paused mid-conversation to stare. Some looked nervous, unsure how to greet a legend they'd only heard about secondhand. Others broke into open smiles.

I made a point of stopping, asking after people by name where I remembered them, asking one man how his daughter's university applications had gone, asking another if he'd finally taken that trip to Kyoto he used to talk about constantly. Their surprise at being remembered warmed something in me that had gone cold for longer than I wanted to admit.

"The office has been far too quiet without you stomping through the halls," one senior manager called out, earning a ripple of laughter from everyone nearby.

"I don't stomp," I said, though I was smiling.

"You absolutely stomp," Reynolds murmured beside me, and I swatted his arm, laughing for real now.

By the time we reached the boardroom doors, the last of my nerves had settled into something steadier, something closer to certainty.

The doors opened, and every director rose at once.

Silence held the room for a long moment. I recognized every face, people who'd sat across tables from my grandmother, who'd helped her build something out of nothing before I ever came into it.

An elderly man near the head of the table broke the silence first. "

Welcome back, Miss Callahan. Thank you for finally coming home."

"The principles you and your grandmother built this company on," another director added, "we never strayed from them. Not once, in all these years."

"Thank you," I said, my voice steadier than I expected, "for protecting everything she worked so hard to build. I'm sorry I was away longer than I intended."

"No apology needed," the first man said gently. "We understood why you left."

Reynolds gestured toward the chair at the head of the table, the one that had sat untouched for five years, waiting.

I walked around the long table slowly, feeling every set of eyes follow me, and rested my hand on the back of the chair for one quiet second before lowering myself into it.

I looked out at the faces waiting for me to lead them again.

"Shall we get to work?"