Game Over, Mr. CEO: Your Wife Is Done novel Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The alarm had barely gone off when Winter opened her eyes. Moving on instinct, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and dialed Chris’s number from memory.

Just like the night before, it rang until the call went to voicemail. No one answered.

She tried Gavin next.

This time, the call connected.

Her voice was hoarse as she got straight to the point. “Put Chris on.”

“Mr. Xander is in a very important meeting right now.”

“I want to speak to Chris,” she repeated.

Her tone was calm in a way that felt almost frightening. On the other end of the line, Gavin frowned.

Winter sat hunched on the edge of the bed, listening quietly to the sounds coming through the phone. Footsteps echoed in what sounded like a large, open space. A moment later, the wind howled faintly through the receiver.

“What is it?”

A man’s cool, distant voice came through.

Her bloodshot eyes filled with tears. She hated him.

She took a deep breath, but her voice still trembled.

“You want to be with Skyla. Fine. I’ll give you what you want. After the divorce, I won’t take anything. I just want the house in Westbury. I want my home.”

She started slowly, her voice controlled. By the end, her breathing was uneven. She was biting back tears, anger slipping through her clenched teeth.

Chris stood half in shadow. He removed his glasses and narrowed his eyes at the dark gray clouds rolling across the sky. His dress shoes scraped lightly against the thin layer of snow on the terrace.

After a long pause, he let out a cold laugh.

“Keep dreaming.”

The call ended.

When she tried again, he didn’t pick up.

She opened her messages and tapped on his contact. The profile photo he had chosen was a dark night sky. Her fingers moved quickly as she typed.

“You want to be with Skyla, don’t you? The house will always be there. But how long can Skyla wait? You

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know better than I do who holds the power in this deal.”

She hit send.

The message vanished into silence, as if dropped into the ocean. There was no reply.

It took her a long moment to stand from the bed. Suddenly, her vision went dark. She braced her palm against the wall to keep from collapsing.

She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now. If anything, this was when she needed to take better care of

herself.

After sleeping a little longer and forcing herself to eat something, some strength finally returned.

That afternoon, she drove to the station.

Just as the workday was winding down, an email popped up in her inbox. It was from a former classmate she had asked to draft a divorce agreement. Just as she had requested, she would take nothing except the house in Westbury.

She skimmed through the document, then hit print.

As the pages slid out one by one, she found herself staring at the machine, her thoughts knotted and tangled. With every sheet that landed in the tray, her chest tightened just a little more.

Footsteps sounded outside the print room. A few colleagues walked in to print their own materials. Winter snapped out of it, gathered the papers, and returned to her desk.

She was just about to sign the agreement when the door to the editor-in-chief’s office flew open.

Sam strode out, his voice urgent and serious. “There’s been an explosion at a chemical plant in the suburbs. Fire crews are already on the way. Anyone who’s free, head to the scene immediately.”

“I’ll go.”

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