Divorce to Destiny: Reclaiming My CEO Husband

(Cass)

It's fine. Really.

I mean, they're paying me double the normal chef rate to do this, and honestly, after everything I've been through, I am lucky to be here.

But as I dump another stack into the industrial washer and catch my reflection in the steel, I can't help but feel I'm clutching at straws.

A letter doesn't mean instant success, I have a long road to get there.

By the time the shift ends, my arms ache, and my stomach growls so loudly it's probably scaring the mice away.

The head chef mutters something about "grit" and "paying dues" when he finally waves me off for the night. They are all butt-hurt over me getting paid more than half of them.

Whatever. I've always been good at keeping my head down and proving people wrong.

The night air hits me like a slap as I step out of the estate's main building. The path to the cottage is dark, and my legs feel like lead with every step. All I want is to collapse on the couch, shove some food in my face, and sleep for a year. But then I hear them.

The deliberate footsteps.

"What, are you waiting to see if I trip on a rock or something?" I snap.

Viktor doesn't reply, just keeps walking at a steady pace.

"Seriously," I say, stopping in my tracks and turning to face him. "Do you have to follow me everywhere? It's not like I'm running off to start a drug cartel in the woods."

He pisses me off, always hovering, always watching, always judging.

Everything he stands for is what I hate. Looking after corporate fat cats, black and white outlook on life, discipline, rules, boring as fuck life, ugh.

"Must you follow me like some creepy-ass stalker? What's the matter, bored of babysitting billionaires?"

His face is stoic, his eyes like ice. "It's my job."

I throw my hands in the air. "Oh, your job! Well, congratulations, Viktor, you've managed to elevate yourself to the esteemed position of following me a broke, washed-up ex-junkie-through the woods. Bet your parents would be so proud." At this point I just want to piss him off as much as I am. It's stupid, but I'm on a roll.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn't bite. Of course, he doesn't. He's probably incapable of being human ever.

"Done?" he asks, his voice calm, infuriatingly so.

"Not even close," I spit, stepping closer. "You think you're better than me, don't you? With your suits and your rules and your perfect little world. But let me guess-your big 'job' consists of kissing Jayden's ass and glaring at people who step out of line. What's next? Gonna frisk me for hidden contraband? Cavity search? Yes please!"

He doesn't flinch, doesn't move, he's a goddamn statue. "Your life choices are none of my concern," he says finally, his voice clipped. "Until they become a risk to Jayden or Winona."

"Oh, of course," I sneer. "Because God forbid I 'risk' your precious boss's life with my very existence. You don't know anything about me, Viktor."

"I know enough," he says, his tone maddeningly even.

I laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. "No, you don't. You know what you think you see. A screw-up."Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

His lips press into a thin line, but his eyes remain steady on mine. "Mistakes have consequences. You're living proof of that."

The words hit like a slap, but I refuse to let it show. Instead, I let the anger bubble up, hotter and sharper than before.

"You don't have a goddamn clue

what you're talking about. You've

never been hungry, have you? Never

had to wonder if you'd have a net

de

over your head or food in your stomach. You've probably had everything handed to you, living in your perfect little world of rules and discipline. Newsflash, Viktor-some of us didn't have that luxury."

His expression doesn't change, but there's a flicker in his eyes. Is it anger? I hope it's anger.

"You think you're so tough, huh?" I go on, stepping closer, practically in his face now. "You wouldn't last a day in my shoes. Not a goddamn day."

"Are you finished?" he asks again, his voice steady, calm, like he's reasoning with a tantruming toddler.

"No, I'm not fucking finished," I snap, my fists clenched. "You don't get to judge me. You don't know what I've been through. I'm a survivor. I'm going to make something of my life."

His gaze is unwavering. "All it takes is one weak moment for it all to go up in smoke."

I freeze, the words cutting deeper than I want to admit. That was crack at me smoking weed, right? For a second, I can't breathe, can't think, because he's right. And I hate that he's right.

"Fuck you," I whisper, my voice trembling with anger and something else I can't name. "You think I'm weak? Fine. Think whatever the hell you want."

"I'm not here to judge you," he says simply, his voice cold. "I'm here to make sure you don't screw up and drag Jayden and Winona down with you."

His words hit like a sucker punch,

and I lash out again. "You're a

glorified babysitter, Viktor. A stalker with a superiority complex. You don't care about Jayden or Winona.

You care about your precious job and nothing else. Don't pretend you're some noble protector."

His expression doesn't change, but I feel tension radiating off him. "I don't care what you think of me. I'm not here to be your friend."

"Well, congratulations because we'll never be friends," I snarl. "You're officially the most insufferable asshole I've ever met. And I've met a heap."

He shrugs, his calm demeanor somehow making me feel even smaller. "As long as your friends don't follow you here and threaten Nexus Global, I'm good."

I glare at him, my chest heaving as I try to rein in the storm raging inside me. He doesn't flinch, doesn't move, just stands there like the immovable wall he is. "Go to hell," I mutter, turning on my heel and walk rest of the way to the cottage.

As I slam the door, I can feel his eyes on me through it.

I'm going to have to talk to Jayden about how necessary Viktor being here really is. I cannot tolerate him being my shadow like I'm some low life criminal. It's ridiculous. I made a mistake, that's all.