My CEO Ex-Husband Begs Me Back

"Wait... slow down." On the wide, silk-sheeted bed, Ivy Hart gripped the man's shoulders, her forehead damp, her breath uneven. Nathaniel Wolfe had been away for two months on business across the sea, and for those two months he hadn't so much as called her. If she were honest, she'd been relieved. She hadn't missed him at all. Three years ago, her adoptive mother had fallen gravely ill, and the medical bills had buried them both in debt. In her most desperate hour, the father she'd never known, a wealthy stranger named Julian Sinclair, had come to her with an offer instead of an apology. Money, more than she could imagine, if she would put on her twin sister's face and marry Nathaniel Wolfe, the wealthiest man in Ashford Falls. The story the public knew was a fairy tale: Nathaniel had designed a ring with his own hands and proposed to his fiancée in front of a crowd at the launch of Wolfe Jewels' new overseas collection. Their romance had become the company's best advertisement, the golden key that opened doors across the continent. Then, days before the wedding, the real bride Wren Sinclair, Ivy's twin ran off with another man and vanished. If the truth came out, Wolfe Jewels would take a devastating hit, and the Sinclair family name would be finished. So, to protect what mattered to both families, Nathaniel had signed a three-year contract of marriage with a stranger wearing his fiancée's face. For the money, and for the mother who'd raised her, Ivy buried who she really was. In daylight, she was the composed, graceful Mrs. Wolfe. In the dark, she was whatever Nathaniel needed her to be dutifully, faithfully playing a dead role that wasn't hers. She'd spent three years counting down to the moment this arrangement would finally end. She'd assumed, given his silence, that he meant to keep ignoring her even now that he was home. Instead, he'd come back in the dead of night and pulled her against him like the two months apart had cost him something. Her eyes stung with an unexpected feeling, and it only made her look more striking against the pale sheets. Nathaniel went still for a moment, then reached for the tie discarded on the floor and used it to cover her eyes. He bent down and kissed her hard, almost punishing. "Wren..." Ivy was used to hearing that name in this room. She kissed him back softly. "Be gentle with me." He paid her to wear his fiancée's name for three years. Playing the part well was simply holding up her end of the bargain. There was nothing here to feel sorry for. Afterward, the storm passed. Nathaniel pulled away without warmth and left her with a gold card and a property deed sitting on the nightstand. Ivy loosened the tie from her eyes and caught sight of them. She sat up straight. Three years as Mrs. Wolfe had meant a comfortable, well-funded life sleeping with her husband had, after all, always been within the bounds of the law. But why hand over a mansion worth a fortune, and a card loaded with that much money, tonight of all nights? Unless this was her severance. Her way out. This charade is finally over. She couldn't quite hide the relief on her face. Still, she kept her voice soft and modest as she picked up the card. "You didn't need to do this." In three years, Nathaniel had never once been stingy with her materially; their original contract had already spelled out exactly what she was owed. He had no reason to spend this much just to end things cleanly. He caught the poorly disguised joy in her eyes and his voice went cold. "Rein it in. Wren would never look this greedy, or this careless." Ivy froze, then said nothing in her own defense. She simply lowered her eyes and murmured an apology, the way she always did. Satisfied by her obedience, Nathaniel's tone eased. "That new design you submitted it's sharp. There's a bonus attached. Keep producing work like that." He got up and walked to the bathroom without a backward glance, leaving Ivy sitting in stunned silence. Keep producing work like that? Did that mean he wanted her to stay on at Wolfe Jewels after the divorce? To play Wren convincingly, she'd spent years teaching herself jewelry design, and her work had genuinely helped the company. But Nathaniel had always kept that relationship strictly professional; he'd never handed her a bonus like this, alone, in their bedroom. She didn't understand it, but the divorce wouldn't be final for another month. Until then, the safest thing was to keep playing the calm, agreeable Mrs. Wolfe she'd always been. Sore all over, she forced herself out of bed to fold his discarded clothes and stopped cold at the sight of a bright lipstick stain on his collar. She might only be a stand-in, but their contract had one non-negotiable clause: fidelity. Or maybe it was simpler than that Nathaniel was so fixated on Wren's face that no matter what rumors swirled around him publicly, he'd never once brought another woman home. Was the divorce the reason he'd finally stopped holding back? Her phone rang before she could chase the thought further. An unlisted number. Who would call this late? Worried something had gone wrong at the company, she picked up and heard a honeyed, pleading voice on the other end. "Mrs. Wolfe, I'm carrying his child. You wouldn't really let this baby grow up without a father, would you?" Ivy's brow lifted. "Is the father dead?" The woman went quiet, then her voice sharpened. "You can't keep his heart, so now you're wishing him dead? You're a cruel woman." "What I wish for isn't your concern," Ivy cut in, calm. "The moment Nathaniel wants a divorce, I'll walk away without a fight." She hung up, dropped the stained shirt aside, and laughed once, bitterly, at herself. So that explained the sudden windfall. He'd broken the one rule of their contract. He'd cheated. But she had no real claim to be Mrs. Wolfe, and no right to confront him over it. What she felt wasn't heartbreak, it was disgust. He'd been with another woman first, and then come home to her. A sharp cramp doubled her over, and she sank back onto the ruined sheets, cheeks burning with humiliation. Had he been so rough with her tonight only because the other woman pregnant, unavailable to him, hadn't been enough? --- By the time Ivy woke the next morning, Nathaniel was already gone. He never drove her anywhere himself; a company car always came for her instead. She hadn't even made it out of the car at Wolfe Jewels before a crowd of reporters swarmed her, cameras and microphones thrust toward the window. "Mrs. Wolfe, is it true your husband spent last night at an airport hotel with a mystery woman?" "Sources say this woman's been seen with Mr. Wolfe abroad, acting every bit like a couple. Are we looking at a divorce here or an open arrangement?" "You two have always seemed devoted, yet you didn't join him on this trip, and no one's seen you together in weeks. Has the marriage already ended, quietly?" The love story Wolfe Jewels had built its overseas campaign on had made Nathaniel and his wife a permanent target every rival and every gossip outlet had spent years hunting for cracks in that image. Ivy pulled up the leaked photo on her phone before stepping out. The lighting was poor, but the tall figure was unmistakably Nathaniel. The woman tucked against him wore sunglasses and a mask, her face hidden but her build, her clothes, the whole shape of her, was eerily familiar. Familiar, specifically, in the way that anyone who'd once seen Wren Sinclair would recognize. If Ivy had spent three years being Wren's stand-in, then whoever was in that photo might be Nathaniel's new one. She slipped the phone away and stepped out of the car unhurried, chin level, spine straight and as she moved through the crush of cameras, her collar shifted just enough to reveal a faint bruise at her collarbone. A ripple of scandalized whispers went through the crowd. She caught her collar and pulled it shut with a shy, practiced smile. "Nathaniel's been gone for two months, and I've barely looked up from new designs the whole time. I went to meet him at the airport myself last night. I didn't expect anyone would still be working that late to catch a photo of it..." A reporter pushed forward. "Mrs. Wolfe, with respect you can't see her face in that photo, but her clothes, her posture, all of it, doesn't match you at all." Ivy let a small, wry smile touch her mouth. "It seems the wealthy, poised Mrs. Wolfe everyone knows now has made people forget I was ever young and a little wild before the wedding." On camera, she remained the picture of grace, every motion unhurried. "Everyone here is just trying to make an honest living, so I won't hold a simple misunderstanding against anyone once it's cleared up. But if someone keeps spreading lies about my husband after this, they'll be hearing from the Wolfe family's lawyers instead of me." The warning landed soft but unmistakably firm, and the reporters fell quiet, visibly recalculating who exactly they'd been talking to. This wasn't some sheltered, wide-eyed wife hiding behind her husband's name. She was a fox with sharp teeth, and she'd just shown them.