The Regretful CEO's Comeback

Chapter 4

Elodie thought she had imagined it. He gave her an answer that was anything but imaginary.

She couldn't believe it. Shock and disbelief shot her to her feet before she knew what she was doing. Her body trembled, not from fear, but from a surge of emotion too wild to contain. "You're not... you're not playing with me?"

Damian let out a soft laugh. "I heard Beatrice needs major surgery. 200,000. I'll give you 500,000. How does that sound?"

For a moment, Elodie had no idea how to name what she was feeling. It all felt surreal, a dream she couldn't quite trust.

'Would Damian really be this good to me?'

The answer came fast. No, he would not.

He followed it up immediately—a bucket of ice water doused straight over her head. "On one condition. You divorce me."

"Divorce?" The word exploded inside her skull. The smile still lingering on her face died before she could wipe it away.

Damian was merciless. The words that fell from his thin lips kicked her straight into a bottomless abyss. "200,000 for the surgery. 200,000 as divorce compensation. Call the extra 100,000 a gift."

She had thought about asking him for a loan before. But when it came to her, he had always been stingy down to the last cent. 500,000... the moment he had offered her money, she should have known. This was a trap. He had laid it out carefully and was waiting for her to walk right in.

The journey from a floating dream to the bottom of a pit took less than 30 seconds.

The frozen smile slowly faded from her face. Her expression cooled, turned distant. She forced her lips to move. "What exactly are you buying with 500,000?"

'Did I misunderstand? Or did this man come here for another woman?'

Damian admitted it openly. He was perfectly at ease. "The money goes to you. We divorce. You set me free."

Elodie felt a bitter laugh rising. 'This is why I didn't want to engage with him. I know exactly who he is.'

Damian never made a move without something to gain. He was a businessman to his core, a man who hated bad deals and never made one.

"It's getting late. Have you thought it over?"

The devastatingly handsome man on the sofa took a drag of his cigarette and glanced at the watch on his wrist. He spoke about it as if it were the most casual matter in the world.

"Beatrice's surgery can't wait. This money solves your most urgent problem. You wouldn't want her condition to worsen because of a mere 200,000, would you?"

Elodie curved her lips. She wanted to laugh. At herself. At her own stupidity for ever letting herself hope. "You're so generous. An extra 100,000, just because..."

Damian narrowed his eyes. He caught it clearly. There was no warmth anywhere in those bright eyes of hers.

She kept going. "Though what's truly incredible is that your freedom is worth only 500,000. Wouldn't she be heartbroken to hear that?"

"How much do you want?"

'If she actually agrees to the divorce, I can go higher. It's not impossible.'

Elodie settled herself back onto the sofa with deliberate grace. She faced him and slowly raised five slender, pale fingers.

"5 million?" Damian looked at her coldly. He offered his assessment. "A tenfold increase. Elodie, you're ambitious. Bold of you to even ask."

"No." Elodie wagged her index finger. "I want 50 million."

Silence dropped over the living room. The air thickened.

Who could have imagined it? A woman with zero leverage, throwing out such an absurdly big number.

That wasn't ambition. That was pure, reckless greed.

Damian's sharp features hardened. The entire atmosphere around him shifted. His tone turned flat and contemptuous, mocking her for not knowing her place. "Where exactly do you get the nerve?"

"From you, of course." Elodie was calm, almost casual. "Your empire is vast. 50 million to buy your freedom. That's a steal, don't you think?"

Damian crushed the cigarette between his long fingers, grinding it into the ashtray on the coffee table.

Then he rose to his feet. His tall, powerful frame moved toward her, closing the distance with a suffocating pressure. His hand came up. Those lean, knuckled fingers gripped her cheeks, forcing her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes.

Face to face, inches apart, the scorn in his gaze was magnified beyond escape. "Trying to blackmail me, are you?"

Elodie shook her head, the picture of helpless regret. "You'd be better off accepting the compensation. Unless you insist on a divorce—in which case we'll have to follow the prenup we signed before the marriage."

She paused. A slow smile spread across her face. "If I remember correctly, the contract states that if either party seeks divorce before the five-year term is up, that party must pay the other half of all assets in their name. That includes cars, properties, stocks, every liquid and fixed asset. What half your assets look like, you know better than I do. It would sting a lot more than 50 million."

She had nothing. The contract's bindings on her were painless, meaningless. So yes, the clause was designed for him. It was an unfair contract aimed squarely at Damian.

His fury surfaced, plain and dangerous. He narrowed his eyes. "You have the nerve to claim half my assets? Where do you get the nerve?"

"Why wouldn't I have the nerve? Is there such a thing as too much money?" Elodie matched him with a shrewdness all her own. Her voice stayed unhurried. "I'm not stealing. You forced me into this marriage. You signed the contract yourself. When you were using every dirty trick to make me marry you, did you stop to think about your own shamelessness?"

The fingers gripping her cheeks were sculpted and elegant. Her face cradled in his palm was soft, lovely, and at that moment utterly loathsome to him. Looking at it made him want to increase the pressure, almost without thinking.

After a beat, his features hardened. "1 million. Final offer."

'He just jumped to 1 million. Just like that.'

"Ha. You forced me into marriage when you felt like it, and now you want to throw me a little charity to make the divorce happen?"

"Elodie, learn when to stop. Otherwise, you might end up with nothing."

Elodie smiled. It was faint and brief. Then she turned solemn. She spoke slowly, every word deliberate. "I don't sign a single paper until I see 50 million."

'If I can't make him bleed, I can at least make sure he loses some skin. Otherwise, he'll think I'm soft. Easy to crush.'

Under the amber glow of the chandelier, the two of them locked in a standoff.

Damian studied her eyes, the way she stared right back at him, her whole appearance still dusty and worn from the road. Even he felt he was pushing too hard.

He couldn'ttell how much time passed. It felt like a century. Elodie's cheeks ached from his grip. She was on the verge of breaking, ready to surrender, when his fingers finally released her.

"If 1 million isn't enough for you, then let's see how long you can hold out."

The words landed. He turned, all imposing authority, and walked out without looking back.

Elodie stayed on the sofa, frozen in place. Her heart hammered long after he was gone. A bitter, shallow smile crossed her lips.

She had no doubt at all. At that moment, he had genuinely wanted to strangle her.

That was Damian. She had never believed he was merely cold on the outside and warm underneath. He could be gentle, thoughtful. He simply gave all that gentleness to someone else and saved every last explosive fury for her.

'What makes me so different from everyone else? Is my face just... naturally offensive to him or something?'