CEO’s Regret After I Divorced (Serena and Ryan) novel Chapter 259

Chapter 259: Chapter 259 Coffee, Contracts, and a Woman Who Doesn’t Take No

Ryan’s POV

I didn’t exactly plan on working late that day. The evening was calling, and all I could think about was getting home to Serena and our little Vivian. My daughter was barely a month old, but already she’d become the center of my universe—something I never would have anticipated before she arrived.

Simon knocked on my door just as I was shutting down my laptop.

"Mr. Blackwood, there’s a Miss Wilson in the meeting room. Says she’s a friend of Mrs. Blackwood’s. Something about a project she insists needs your personal attention."

I frowned immediately. "Which company?"

"SW Design."

The name meant nothing significant—certainly not a company that warranted my direct involvement. But the moment Simon mentioned the surname, I knew exactly who our visitor was. Olivia Wilson. Serena’s so-called friend who’d been hovering around our home lately.

I hesitated. My schedule was clear for the rest of the evening, and something about this woman didn’t sit right with me. Perhaps it was worth finding out what she was really after.

"I’ll see her," I decided, rising from my chair.

Walking into the meeting room, I noticed how Olivia’s eyes lit up at my entrance. She practically bounced in her seat.

"Mr. Blackwood! Thank you for making time to see me."

I sat down without ceremony, giving her a curt nod. "What’s this project you mentioned?"

Her smile faltered slightly at my directness. She’d clearly been hoping for small talk, but I had no interest in playing whatever game she was setting up.

"Of course, straight to business," she recovered, passing a folder across the table. "Our company is very committed to this opportunity. I’ve been given full authority to negotiate, and if you could personally oversee this partnership, I’m certain the results would be... extremely favorable."

The suggestive tone in her voice wasn’t subtle. I barely registered her words as I flipped through the proposal, mentally calculating how quickly I could end this meeting.

After scanning the documents, I placed them back on the table. "The project looks viable. We can proceed with it."

Olivia’s face brightened immediately. "Wonderful! Perhaps we could discuss the details over—"

"Miss Wilson," I cut her off, giving her a cold look. "While you may be acquainted with my wife, that doesn’t grant you special treatment in business matters."

I stand up, already done with this charade. "If SW Design wishes to move forward, continue discussions with the appropriate department manager. I have other commitments."

Her smile falters but she recovers quickly. "Mr. Blackwood, please don’t go yet! I have something else to ask you."

Christ, this woman doesn’t take a hint. I stop at the door, not bothering to hide my irritation. "What is it?"

"Vivian’s one-month celebration is coming up, and Serena invited me." She twirls a strand of hair, attempting to look innocent. "I’m stuck on what gift to bring. Since you know Serena so well, perhaps you could offer some suggestions?"

Is she fucking serious? Using my daughter to try to forge a connection with me?

"You claim to be Serena’s friend," I say coldly. "Shouldn’t you know what she likes?"

I turn to leave again but she steps forward, blocking my path.

"Mr. Blackwood, I was hoping we could discuss the project over coffee sometime. Just to ensure everything aligns with your vision."

That’s it. I’ve had enough.

"Miss Wilson," I say, my voice dropping dangerously low. "Let me make something perfectly clear. My patience is extremely limited, and you’re rapidly exhausting what little I have."

Her eyes widen as I continue.

"The only reason I agreed to meet you today is out of respect for my wife. But that courtesy has limits." I step closer, towering over her. "I suggest you return to discussing business matters with the appropriate personnel, or SW Design might find itself removed from consideration altogether."

I press the intercom button on the conference phone. "Simon, please escort Miss Wilson out. And reassign the SW Design project to Johnson’s team."

But that arrogant bastard had completely shut me down! Called me manipulative right to my face!

My thoughts were interrupted when a slim, elegant woman appeared at the gate. Eleanor. Shit. Anyone but her.

"You won’t need to call Serena," she announced coldly. "She’s sleeping and won’t be disturbed."

I immediately switched tactics, softening my expression. "Eleanor! So good to see you! I completely understand about Serena resting. I just wanted to ask about baby gift ideas for the one-month celebration."

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed, scanning my outfit. "You’re dressed rather professionally for a casual visit."

Damn it. I should’ve known she’d notice.

"I came straight from work," I laughed lightly. "Didn’t have time to change."

"Yet you said you were ’in the neighborhood,’" Eleanor challenged, her voice like ice. "What exactly are you after, showing up at this house every other day? If you were truly Serena’s friend, you’d respect her need for rest."

My heart raced. She was onto me. "That’s completely unfair! Serena and I go back to university days. She needs friends around her right now, not just family controlling who she sees!"

"Friends don’t force themselves where they’re not wanted," Eleanor snapped. "Especially when a new mother is recovering."

"I’m not forcing anything! I—"

"Enough." Eleanor cut me off with a dismissive wave. "Security will show you out. Call next time before coming."

Before I could protest further, the guards stepped forward, making it clear I had no choice but to leave.

As I was escorted down the long driveway, humiliation burned through me. First Ryan, now this. The Blackwoods thought they could just dismiss me? I wasn’t some nobody to be tossed aside.

They had no idea what I was capable of. This rejection only strengthened my resolve. There were other ways to get close to Ryan Blackwood. And if Serena stood in my path... well, women who’ve just had babies can be so emotionally fragile, can’t they?