CEO’s Regret After I Divorced (Serena and Ryan) novel Chapter 322

Chapter 322: Chapter 322 A Bad Feeling

Ryan’s POV

I clutched my phone tighter, staring at Mr. Anderson across the polished conference table as he outlined his surprisingly generous proposal. The afternoon light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Toronto high-rise, casting long shadows across the room.

"As I was saying, Mr. Blackwood," Anderson Sr. continued smoothly, his silver hair catching the light, "not only will we increase our investment by thirty percent, but I’ll personally ensure this plagiarism nonsense against your wife’s company is exposed as the misunderstanding it truly is. The Blackwood and Anderson families have too much potential together to let this... unfortunate situation torpedo our relationship."

Unlike his complete moron of a son David, the senior Anderson clearly understood the art of negotiation. I nodded, satisfaction rippling through me.

"I appreciate your—"

Something stopped me mid-sentence. A sharp, inexplicable pain shot through my chest, making my breath catch. Not physical pain, but something deeper, like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Mr. Blackwood?" Anderson’s voice seemed distant suddenly. "Are you alright? You’ve gone white as a sheet."

I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to steady my suddenly racing heartbeat. The feeling was overwhelming - a cold, creeping dread that made my skin crawl.

"Serena," I whispered, the name escaping my lips without conscious thought.

"I beg your pardon?"

I took several deep breaths, trying to regain my composure. "Mr. Anderson, I apologize, but I need to cut our meeting short. Something urgent has come up."

Confusion flickered across his face, but to his credit, he didn’t press. "Of course, Mr. Blackwood. We’re in no rush. Your health and family come first."

I barely registered his words as I stood, straightening my tie with trembling fingers. My body moved on autopilot while my mind raced, every instinct screaming that something was wrong with Serena. I knew it with a certainty that defied logic.

The moment I cleared the conference room, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail.

"Shit," I muttered, immediately calling again. Same result.

By the fifth unsuccessful attempt, my walk had become a full sprint through the corporate hallway. Employees dove out of the way as I barreled past, looking like I was about to commit murder. I couldn’t explain my urgency even if I wanted to - this bone-deep certainty that Serena was in danger was primal, beyond rationalization.

I jabbed at Ethan’s contact next, him answering on the second ring.

"Ryan, what’s up?" His tone was casual, unsuspecting.

"Where’s Serena?" I demanded, cutting straight to the chase.

Ethan’s confusion was palpable through the phone. "At home, I think? She hasn’t been feeling well lately. Mom’s been hovering over her. Why? What’s going on?"

"I can’t reach her. She’s not answering her phone." My voice sounded foreign to my own ears - strained, borderline frantic.

The brief silence on the other end only amplified my anxiety.

"Let me call Mom," Ethan finally said, his voice taking on a more serious edge. "I’ll call you right back. Give me two minutes."

"I’ll be waiting." The words came out more like a threat than a promise.

Those two minutes felt like two hours. I paced the hotel lobby like a caged animal, checking my watch every thirty seconds, ignoring the nervous glances from staff and guests alike.

When my phone finally rang, I snatched it up before the sound even registered.

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