Chasing His Ex-Wife

CHAPTER 44

CHRISTIAN

The suite was quiet. Too quiet.

It had always been this way since I checked in—polished marble floors, a bottle of untouched bourbon on the shelf, and the low hum of the city lights bleeding in from the massive windows that wrapped around the living room. The place was large, luxurious, and cold. Just like me, maybe.

I sat on the velvet armchair facing the windows, a tablet resting on my knee as I scrolled through a series of emails. Most were work-related—logistics, contracts, numbers—but none of them seemed to hold any weight in my mind. Not when my life was teetering on a knife’s edge, and I was the one who sharpened it.

The knock on the door was light, hesitant.

I didn’t look up.

“Come in,” I said, my voice flat.

Daniel stepped inside, his presence as meticulous as ever. A navy blue suit, tie perfectly knotted, and the distinct scent of expensive cologne followed him into the room. But he didn’t walk in with his usual clipped confidence.

Something about his posture was different.

"Sir," he began, then caught himself. “Christian.”

That made me glance at him. I raised a brow.

He stood still near the doorway, fingers fidgeting slightly at his side. “Would it be alright if I speak to you… a little unprofessionally today?”

I set the tablet aside and leaned forward, elbows on my knees.

“You’ve earned that right. Say what you need to say.”

Daniel inhaled, then released a breath as though he’d been waiting for this moment longer than I realized.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, voice low but sharp.

I blinked.

Not out of shock—but because finally, someone said it out loud.

He took a step closer, expression carved with disappointment. “You forced her, didn’t you?”

I said nothing.

“I’ve been your secretary for nearly seven years, Christian. I’ve seen you manipulate boardrooms, intimidate billionaires, and break men’s careers with a single line in a contract. But I never thought you’d pull that crap on her.”

I leaned back, clasping my hands together as I stared at the floor.

Daniel wasn’t finished.

“You practically trapped Isabella. You didn’t ask her, you cornered her. You showed up out of nowhere, threw her into this mess, and acted like it was her only option.”

“She agreed,” I murmured.

“She agreed because she’s a mother who’d do anything for her child!” Daniel snapped. “And you knew that. You used Nova as leverage—don’t look at me like that, Christian. You know that’s what you did.”

His voice echoed slightly in the large room.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t defend myself.

Because deep down… he was right.

Daniel rubbed his forehead, clearly holding himself back. “You could’ve fought for joint custody. You could’ve taken legal routes. You’re you. If you really wanted to be in your son’s life, there were better ways than asking your ex-wife to play pretend again.”

Silence settled again. Thick. Uncomfortable.

He shook his head slowly. “I’ve been silent about your decisions because it wasn’t my place. But this… this isn’t about business. This is about you doing something reckless and desperate, and dragging her into it.”

Desperate.

That word again.

I swallowed.

Daniel’s voice dropped, softer now. “What’s really going on, Christian? You still love her, don’t you?”

I looked up, eyes locking with his.

He saw the answer in them before I could speak.

But I said it anyway. “That’s not something I’m willing to discuss.”

He stared at me, disappointed. “Why? Because if you admit it, it makes everything you’ve done too real?”

I stood, walking past him and toward the window. The city shimmered outside, millions of lives moving forward while mine remained suspended in this inescapable limbo of the past.

“I made a mistake before,” I said slowly. “I let her go. I watched her walk out the door with our son in her arms and didn’t chase her. I thought I was doing the right thing. Giving her space. Letting her be free of a marriage that never started right.”

Daniel watched me. Quiet now.

“I let her go… and she never came back.” My jaw clenched. “And now, if the only way I can be near her… near my son… is to play the villain in her story, then so be it.”

“Christian,” he said gently. “You’re not just playing the villain. You’re becoming one. And once that line is crossed, it’s hard to come back.”

I turned to face him, my expression unreadable.

“She’ll be safe,” I said. “Nova will be safe. That’s all that matters.”

He stared at me for a moment longer, as if searching for the man he used to work for.

Then he gave a slow nod. “I hope you’re right. I really do.”

Daniel turned and walked out, quietly closing the door behind him.

And I was alone again.

Just me.

And the silence.

And the haunting truth that maybe—just maybe—I’d sacrificed too much in trying to fix what was already broken.

The door clicked shut behind Daniel, but his words lingered like smoke—bitter, thick, and impossible to ignore.

You're becoming the villain.

Maybe I already was. Maybe I always had been.

I ran a hand down my face, dragging the tension with me as if that would somehow lighten the weight in my chest. The tablet lay forgotten on the chair now, emails blinking, waiting for a reply I had no intention of giving. What reply did I owe anyone, really? This wasn’t about the company, or my board, or the billion-dollar merger sitting on my desk back in London.

This was about her.

Isabella.

And Nova.

I walked to the minibar, poured a glass of water with shaking hands, and downed it in one gulp. I didn’t trust myself with anything stronger. Not tonight. Not with the guilt pulsing under my skin like a second heartbeat. I don't think that after knowing that she was pregnant with my child during our divorce and that she gave birth to him without me around I could seat ideal.

I didn’t need Daniel to tell me what I already knew—I’d cornered her. Presented her with a polished lie: let’s pretend again, for the sake of appearances. For the sake of my grandmother. For Nova. But deep down, the ugliest truth was that I just wanted her back.

Even if it meant coercion wrapped in a velvet ribbon.

I wasn’t proud of it.

But I was desperate. And desperate men do unforgivable things.