CEO’s Regret After I Divorced (Serena and Ryan) novel Chapter 360

Chapter 360: Chapter 360 The Storm Is Already Here

Claire’s POV

This was business. Just business.

The mantra repeated in my head like a broken record, but my hands shook so badly I could barely type. Outside my cramped studio apartment, London’s weather turned vicious—wind howled through the narrow streets, rain hammered against my single window like bullets.

Fitting. The whole world went to hell that night.

"Files are ready to send," I reported into my phone, hating how my voice wavered. On my laptop screen, Serena’s autumn collection stared back at me—months of her brilliant work, her sleepless nights. And I was about to hand it all over to Sophie Anderson like some corporate spy.

"Wonderful, darling." Sophie’s voice purred through the speaker, dripping with satisfaction. "Send everything now. Don’t leave out a single sketch."

My cursor hovered over the send button. One click. That was all it would take to destroy someone’s life.

"About that position at ARt," I ventured, trying to sound casual instead of desperate. "When exactly might I—"

"Oh, you’re still worried about that?" She laughed, the sound sharp enough to cut glass. "Sweet Claire, always so anxious. Don’t fret—I always honor my agreements."

Agreements. Was that what we were calling betrayal now?

"Once this little tempest passes," she continued, "you’ll have your corner office. The one with the Thames view you mentioned wanting. I remember everything, darling."

The way she said it made my skin crawl. Like she was collecting my dreams to use against me later.

I clicked send. Watched as years of Serena’s creativity transferred to Sophie’s inbox in neat little digital packages.

Thirty pieces of silver. That’s what Judas got, wasn’t it?

"Now listen carefully," Sophie’s tone shifted, becoming businesslike and cold. "Delete every trace of our communications after this call. Every email, every text message, every voicemail. I want a clean slate. Understood?"

"Yes, Mrs. Anderson." The words tasted like ash.

"Excellent. Sweet dreams, Claire."

The line went dead, leaving me alone with the storm and my conscience.

I stared at my computer screen, at the folder labeled "SR Autumn Line - CONFIDENTIAL." The weight of what I’d just done settled over me like a lead blanket.

"She’ll recover," I whispered to the empty room, systematically deleting our message history. "Someone like Serena always lands on her feet."

But would I? Would I ever recover from being this person?

Lightning illuminated my tiny apartment, casting harsh shadows across the walls. My phone buzzed with a text from Sophie:

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