Dear Ex-Wife Please Be Mine Again (Christina and Alex) novel Chapter 22

Alexander POV.

The conference room was tense, filled with the buzz of high-stakes negotiations and the hum of serious discussions. My team and I were in the middle of a crucial meeting, grappling with the final details of a multi-million-dollar deal. I was leaning forward, laser-focused, when the door swung open with a sharp clack. James, my PA, entered with an urgency that cut through the room like a knife.

“Mr. Alistair,” James said, his voice firm yet slightly strained. “Christiana Davis and the children are here. They want to see you.”

The words hit me like a jolt of electricity. My mind raced, momentarily derailed from the business at hand. Christiana and the kids. Here? I struggled to process the sudden shift in focus.

“Cancel the meeting,” I said abruptly, my tone brooking no argument. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”

The room erupted in quiet murmurs of confusion and disappointment, but I was already out of my chair, smoothing my suit with a practiced hand. I glanced at James, who was waiting patiently.

“How do I look?” I asked, my voice betraying a hint of the nerves I was trying to suppress.

“You look great, sir,” James replied with a reassuring nod. “I’ll bring them into your office.”

I nodded, feeling anticipation and anxiety swirling in my chest. I straightened my tie and paced the floor of my office, trying to force a calm demeanor. Each step seemed to echo with the weight of what was to come.

As the door opened, I looked up to see Christiana standing there. For a moment, everything else seemed to fall away. Christiana was as striking as ever, her presence commanding attention even without a word. Her beauty was a sharp, painful reminder of what I’d lost. Behind her were Ethan and Emma, looking a bit out of place but undeniably curious.

“Mr. Alistair,” Christiana began, her voice steady but laced with a forced politeness. “The kids wanted to see you.”

I rose from my chair, my gaze locked on Christiana. Her expression was a masterclass in restraint, but I could see the effort it took to maintain it. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, but her kids’ beaming faces kept her there.

“Christiana,” I said, my voice betraying my attempt to remain composed. “It’s good to see you. Please, come in.”

I gestured to the seating area, trying to appear as welcoming as possible despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. Christiana hesitated, her eyes flicking to the kids before she took a seat with an almost imperceptible sigh. Ethan and Emma, however, seemed more than eager to engage.

“Thank you for coming,” I said, addressing the kids with a warmth I hoped would bridge the gap between us. “I’m glad to finally meet you both.”

Ethan, ever the articulate one, spoke first. “We’ve been waiting to meet you. Mommy said you’ve been very busy, but we’re glad you sent us gifts.”

“Yes,” Emma chimed in, her voice softer but equally sincere. “The toys are really nice. Thank you.”

I felt a pang of guilt mixed with relief. At least the kids were appreciative. I managed a smile, feeling a tiny spark of hope that this meeting could be a step towards something positive.

“Of course,” I said, offering them each a seat next to me. “I’m glad you liked the gifts. I hope they’ve made things a little brighter for you.”

Christiana sat down, her posture rigid. She looked like she was fighting to keep her composure, and I couldn’t help but notice the faint lines of exhaustion and frustration etched on her face. Despite her best efforts, her dislike for me was evident. I knew I had a lot to atone for, but I couldn’t let that show in front of the kids.

Ethan and Emma seemed to settle into their seats, though their eyes kept darting between their mother and me. I focused on them, trying to keep the conversation light.

“So,” I began, “how have you two been? School going well?”

Ethan nodded vigorously. “It’s good. I’m doing well in math. Emma’s doing art. Mommy’s been helping us a lot.”

“That’s great to hear,” I said, genuinely interested. “I’d love to hear more about what you’re working on.”

As the conversation continued, I noticed Christiana’s eyes flitting around the room, clearly uncomfortable. Every time she spoke, it was with a sharp edge that she tried to mask with a veneer of civility. Her sarcasm was thinly veiled, and it was clear she was only here for the kids’ sake.

“This must be quite a spectacle for you,” she said, her tone clipped. “I imagine it’s not every day you have your ex-wife and kids show up at your office.”

I tried to mask my hurt with a smile. “It’s not, but I’m glad you came. It means a lot to me.”

Christiana’s lips tightened into a thin line, but she said nothing. I could feel the tension crackling in the air between us. It was evident, like a storm on the horizon that refused to break. I tried to focus on the kids, hoping to create a positive atmosphere despite the undercurrents of animosity.

“So, Ethan,” I said, turning my attention to him, “what’s your favorite subject in math?”

Ethan’s eyes lit up as he started talking about algebra and fractions with a surprising enthusiasm. “I really like solving equations. It’s like a puzzle that you have to figure out. Mommy says I’m very good at it.”

“That’s impressive,” I said, genuinely interested. “Maybe you can show me some of your tricks sometime.”

Emma, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “I’m working on a big art project. Mommy says it’s really good, but I want to make sure it’s perfect before I show it to anyone.”

For now, I could only hope that this was a start, and that in time, the broken pieces of our lives might find a way to come together again.

I was just about to take my seat when the door to my office swung open with a sudden force. Christiana stormed in, her face a thundercloud of determination and frustration. I froze, my hand on the back of my chair. Her presence was so commanding that it felt like the air was sucked out of the room.

"Christiana, what’s—" I began, but she cut me off with a sharp, cutting tone.

“Alex,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine with a fierce intensity, “you need to tell Bianca to stay away from me and my kids.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My jaw dropped slightly in shock. How did she know about Bianca? More importantly, why was she demanding that Bianca be kept away? The confusion and concern must have shown on my face because Christiana didn’t wait for me to process her demand.

“I ran into her today,” Christiana continued, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. “She was at the boutique I was shopping at. She approached me and started causing trouble. She insulted me in front of the sales staff and even tried to insult my children. She had the audacity to make snide comments and demanded to know how I was handling the kids. It was humiliating and completely unacceptable.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. Bianca? Involved with Christiana’s family in such a rude and aggressive manner? It was beyond anything I had imagined. I struggled to find my voice. “Bianca—she wouldn’t—”

“Oh, but she did,” Christiana cut in, her voice like ice. “She was rude, intrusive, and entirely out of line. She didn’t just get close; she made degrading comments and tried to undermine me as a mother. It was disgraceful.”

I stood there, stunned. The idea of Bianca acting so aggressively was almost too much to process. I knew Bianca could be intense, but this was beyond the pale. I could hardly believe it.

Before I could respond, Christiana stepped closer, her anger palpable. “You need to handle this, Alex. Make sure she understands that her behavior is unacceptable. She’s not welcome in our lives, especially not around my children.”

Christiana’s eyes bored into mine, a storm of emotions swirling beneath her firm gaze. Her posture was rigid, an opposite to her normally composed demeanor. I could see how deeply this had affected her. The sheer force of her presence was overwhelming, demanding immediate action from me.

And then, without waiting for a reply, Christiana turned on her heel and marched toward the door. Her anger was so intense that she slammed the door behind her with a resounding thud that echoed through the hallway. The sound was like a final, emphatic punctuation to her ultimatum.

I stood there, still processing the confrontation. The weight of Christiana’s words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the disquieting realization of Bianca’s involvement. The situation was spiraling out of control.

I felt a pang of guilt with confusion. Christiana’

s anger was justified, and the thought of Bianca’s actions was deeply troubling. I knew I had to address this immediately.