Substitute Wife, Genius CEO novel Chapter 384

Ever since claiming his throne at the top of the food chain, he had never once been backed into a corner so thoroughly that he was forced to pull endless all-nighters just to survive.

The stock had been in free-fall for weeks, and a vicious board mutiny was brewing just beneath the surface, contained only by his brutal authoritarian tactics.

In the past, his late nights were fueled by the thrill of securing billion-dollar acquisitions. Now, he was sacrificing his health just to shovel dirt over Lilith's radioactive disasters.

For some inexplicable reason, the mystic's haunting words echoed through his mind: Sever all ties with the source of the rot, and the rot will cease to spread. One must surround oneself with those who manifest fortune, and prosperity will naturally return.

Shaking his head, he let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. Since when did he start believing in esoteric voodoo?

As he returned to his cavernous, silent office, his mind involuntarily drifted to Summer.

He thought of the thousands of late nights she had spent by his side, grinding through contracts until dawn.

They used to sit at this exact desk, bouncing high-level strategies off each other. They would get so electrified by their own brilliance that the exhaustion simply vanished, or they were just too energized to care.

His water glass had never been empty. Whenever Summer grabbed a drink, she always topped his off without him even needing to ask.

His shoulders had never felt this heavy. Whenever she stood up to stretch, she would stand behind him and massage the tension from his muscles.

She had magic hands, knowing exactly which pressure points to target. A brief rubdown from her was infinitely more potent than any espresso, clearing his mind and revitalizing his drive.

When midnight hunger struck, she would vanish into the kitchen and whip up a bowl of steaming noodles. The rich, creamy broth, the perfectly chewy strands, topped with fresh greens and a fried egg—the aroma alone was enough to bring a dead man back to life.

Xavier's stomach twisted violently in protest, completely ignoring the pills he had just choked down.

Pressing a fist into his gut, he tried to massage the agony away, but it offered zero relief.

Knowing his productivity was completely shot, he grabbed his keys and left the tower. By the time he snapped out of his autopilot daze, he realized he had driven straight to South Bay Manor.

Xavier furrowed his brow. What was he doing here?

This was the estate he had shared with Summer during their marriage.

Too exhausted to drive anywhere else, he punched in the code and pushed the door open. Flicking on the lights, he found that the interior bore absolutely zero resemblance to the sanctuary in his memories.

After the divorce, Summer had put the house on the market. Miles had purchased it anonymously and gifted it to Lilith, who promptly stripped every ounce of Summer's aesthetic from the walls.

Since no one actually lived here anymore, a cleaning crew maintained the illusion of perfection. It was pristine, yet utterly devoid of warmth—a sterile tomb completely lacking the scent of home.

There was certainly no lingering aroma of midnight noodles.

Xavier let out a hollow chuckle. What the hell was he doing, acting like a lovesick teenager? If he wanted a bowl of noodles, he could snap his fingers and have a dozen Michelin-star chefs fighting for the privilege to cook for him.

He was simply sleep-deprived and delirious. That had to be it.

Forcing his mind to shut down, he marched upstairs, took a scorching shower, and collapsed into the empty bed.

Half a month later, at the hospital.

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