The Groveling CEO

CHAPTER TWO: Goddamn Serious

CARTER’S POV

I couldn’t focus for s**t.

The meeting had been going on for forty minutes and I had heard maybe ten words. Numbers glowed on the screen. Mouths moved. My COO was saying something about the Henderson account that was probably important.

I nodded anyway.

My phone sat face-down on the table. I hadn’t touched it since I left the house. That alone felt wrong. My phone was normally an extension of my hand. Today I didn’t want to look at it.

Her signature was already at the bottom of those papers. She’d been planning this for weeks.

Had she been planning it for weeks?

“Carter.” Daniel, my CFO, leaned forward. “The Henderson projections—”

“Send them to my office.” I stood. “We’re done.”

The room cleared fast. No one argued when I used that tone.

I moved to the window and stared at the city below, trying to remember the last time Stella and I had a real conversation. Not about work. Not about schedules. Just… talked. Like two people who actually wanted to be in the same room.

I couldn’t remember.

That bothered me more than I cared to admit.

Daniel caught me after lunch, falling into step beside me like he had the right.

“You look like hell,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Carter.”

“I said nothing, Daniel.”

He was quiet for three full seconds — his personal limit.

“We’re going out tonight,” he declared. “Me, you, Reeves. That new bar on Fifth. You need a drink and I need you to stop looking like someone died.”

“I’m going home.”

He stopped walking. “Sorry?”

“I’m going home tonight.” I kept moving. “Some other time.”

“You never go home,” he said, genuinely confused. “You’re always the last one in this building. You once slept on your office couch for three days during the Mercer deal—”

“I’m aware of what I did, Daniel.”

“So what’s at home that’s so important?”

I thought about the suitcase on the bed. The divorce papers. Stella’s calm hands folding clothes like she’d already made peace with leaving.

“My wife,” I said.

Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it. Then the bastard started smiling.

“What,” I said flatly.

“Nothing.” He raised his hands. “Nothing at all. Go home, Carter.”

The others heard on the way out. Reeves made a sound like I’d confessed to murder. Marcus clapped me on the back and muttered something about being whipped. They were still laughing when the elevator doors closed.

I didn’t care.

I had bigger problems.

When I walked into the penthouse, the suitcase was open on the bed.

Stella had her back to me, folding a dress slowly, carefully, like she had all the time in the world.

Something cold moved through my chest.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t turn. “Packing.”

“I can see that.”

“Then why did you ask?”

I stopped at the foot of the bed. The suitcase was half-full. Neat. Of course it was neat. Stella did everything neatly. Even leaving.

“You said I had until tonight,” I reminded her.

“It is tonight, Carter.”

She turned back to her folding.

I watched her steady hands and felt something I hadn’t felt in years.

Panic.

Not the business kind. This sat lower. This had teeth.

I did the only thing I could think of.

I went to my wardrobe, pulled out my black card, and set it on top of the folded dress.

She looked at the card.

Then at me.

“Stay,” I said. “I’ll pay you to stay. Whatever you want. Name it.”

She was quiet for a long moment.

Her eyes dropped back to the card. Something like amusement crossed her face. She picked it up slowly, turned it over in her fingers, then looked up at me.

“Whatever I want?” she asked.

“Whatever you want.”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

She tucked the card into her pocket.

Then she lifted the dress out of the suitcase, walked to the wardrobe, and hung it back up.

I exhaled.

“Don’t think this means anything,” she said without turning around.

“I know.”

“I’m still serious about the divorce.”

“I know.”

“And Carter?” She finally faced me, eyes steady. “I want my own room. A proper one. Not the guest room.”

I nodded. “Done.”

She walked past me toward the door.

“Oh,” she added, stopping but not turning. “I’m coming into the office tomorrow.”

I frowned. “You work from home. You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to.” She glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised, that small smile doing irritating things to my chest. “I want to.”

She walked out.

I stood there next to the half-empty suitcase and stared at the closed door.

Something told me I had just made a very costly mistake.

Something else told me I hadn’t paid nearly enough.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I ignored it at first, but it kept going. When I finally picked it up, the screen was full of notifications.

Multiple missed calls from James.

Texts from PR.

One headline alert from a business gossip site: Sterling Group CEO’s Secret Marriage on the Rocks?

My stomach dropped.

The leak had already started.

I dialed James.

He answered on the first ring, voice perfectly calm and efficient as always. “Sir. I’ve been monitoring the situation. The filing leaked sometime this morning. Stock is down three percent already. Board members are asking questions. Would you like me to issue a statement or handle damage control personally?”

There was something in his tone, too smooth, almost eager to help. Like he lived for moments when things fell apart around me.

“Not yet,” I said. “Keep it quiet. I’ll handle it from the office tomorrow.”

“Understood, sir.” A pause. “And Mrs. Sterling… is she aware?”

“No. And she can’t know how bad it is. Not yet.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll make sure everything stays contained.”

I hung up and stared at the phone.

James had been with me for years. Loyal. Invisible. Always one step ahead.

I looked toward the hallway where Stella had disappeared.

Tomorrow she was coming into the office.

And I had no idea how to stop the storm I could already feel building.