CEO’s Regret After I Divorced (Serena and Ryan) novel Chapter 355

Chapter 355: Chapter 355 The Winning Side

Author’s POV

The Breaking Point

The design studio reeked of desperation and cold coffee. Vivi surveyed her team—hollow-eyed zombies hunched over laptops, their creativity bleeding out with each rejected draft. Empty energy drink cans formed a small mountain by the printer, a monument to their collective exhaustion.

"That’s it!" Vivi slammed her palm against the table, making everyone jump. "We’re done bleeding over this tonight. Pack it up, people. Go home before you start hallucinating unicorns in the color swatches."

A collective groan rippled through the room—relief mixed with bone-deep fatigue. They’d finally cracked it. After seventy-two hours of creative warfare, they had something that didn’t make their eyes bleed. Victory never tasted so much like stale donuts and regret.

God, we actually pulled it off, Vivi thought, rubbing her temples. The prototype wasn’t perfect, but it had that spark—that indefinable quality that made people stop scrolling and start staring. She could already picture Serena’s approving nod, Sally’s rare smile of satisfaction.

"No heroics tonight," Vivi called out as laptops snapped shut. "Sleep. Real sleep, not whatever you’ve been calling those three-hour comas."

Claire gathered her things with mechanical precision, shoulders rigid with unspoken resentment. While others chatted about weekend plans and actual beds, she moved like a ghost through the motions—scarf wound tight, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes fixed on the exit.

The October air bit at her cheeks as she stepped outside.

"Another glamorous night in my spectacular career." she thought bitterly, watching her breath form angry little puffs. The sidewalk stretched ahead, empty except for scattered leaves and her crushing sense of invisibility.

That’s when the headlights found her.

The beam hit her square in the face, turning the world white-hot. Claire threw up her hand, stumbling backward. "What the hell—"

The light dimmed, revealing a sleek black sedan that probably cost more than her annual salary. The rear window glided down with a whisper-soft hum, and Claire’s irritation shifted into something sharper. Something dangerous.

"Claire Smith." The voice that emerged was silk wrapped around steel. "Such a pretty name for such a talented girl."

Every instinct screamed run. Instead, Claire found herself stepping closer, drawn by the magnetic pull of someone who clearly didn’t belong in her world of discount coffee and shared apartments.

"Do I know you?" Claire’s voice came out smaller than intended.

"Top of your class at Parsons. Portfolio that made professors weep. And now..." A pause, deliberately cruel. "An assistant. How deliciously tragic."

The words hit like physical blows. Claire’s fingers tightened around her bag strap until her knuckles went white. "Who are you? What do you want?" 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"I’m someone who recognizes wasted potential." The figure leaned forward, and Claire caught a glimpse of sharp cheekbones and predatory elegance. "Tell me, darling—how does it feel to watch mediocrities climb over your back on their way to the top?"

Stop talking. The smart part of Claire’s brain was screaming warnings, but the wounded part—the part that had been collecting rejections and swallowing pride for months—was drinking in every word.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," Claire whispered, but her heart wasn’t in the denial.

"Don’t I?" The woman’s laugh was soft, devastating.

Then the sunglasses came off.

"Oh my God." Claire’s breath caught. "You’re Sophie Anderson."

"Guilty as charged." Sophie’s smile could have cut glass. "The question is, Claire—are you ready to stop being a victim of your own integrity?"

The words followed Claire home like hungry ghosts. She fumbled with her keys, Sophie’s business card—pristine white with embossed numbers—burning a hole in her pocket. The apartment felt smaller than usual, walls pressing in with the weight of another wasted day.

Her phone buzzed. Vivi’s name flashed on the screen.

"Need those revisions on the Morrison account by tomorrow morning. Thanks! - V"

Claire stared at the message until the words blurred. Another late night. Another thankless task. Another reminder that she was expendable, invisible, nothing more than a warm body to handle Vivi’s overflow.

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