Revenge Of The Ceo: A Billionaire Ex-husband's redemption

Evelyn's pov

I walked into our house, exhausted from work. All I wanted to do was relax and see Desmond, but when I entered the living room, I was like, "Whoa!" Desmond and a girl I had never seen before were laughing together while seated at the table. She was gorgeous, with blonde hair and a smile that could melt anything.

Evelyn!

Desmond said. "Settle down,we need to talk." He gestured to the chair across from him, which the girl had just left.​It felt like I was being invited to a party I was not supposed to attend.

 I was completely confused! My mind was racing trying to figure out what was going on. "I am so tired," I admitted. "Could this wait?"

"Not really, Evelyn. It simply cannot wait. "We need to figure this out right now," Desmond said. His voice sounded like a whip, making me even more confused.

He moved a piece of paper across the table. It said "Divorce Papers" in large letters.

"This is what you have been waiting for, correct?" Desmond spoke in a mean tone.​"To finally leave me."I felt extremely cold, like ice. "Desmond, what exactly are you saying?" I inquired, my voice cracked.

This was not what we had hoped for, nor was it our dream. But looking at Desmond's expression, his cold eyes, and the way he spoke, I knew I could not persuade him.

I needed to make a choice,sign the papers and abandon everything we would built, or fight for something that seemed to be slipping away. And as I looked at those divorce papers, I knew in my heart that our dream had ended. The only question was whether I would be the one to call it off.

When I looked at Desmond, tears welled in my eyes. His voice carried a dull ache that echoed in my bones

"Desmond," I gasped out, my voice cracking.

"You know I ,

"Do not give me that," he snapped, bringing his hand down on the table, causing the glasses to clink.

Tears strolled down my cheeks .You can not give me what I want. "You are the one who is broken." His eyes were cold, devoid of the love I once felt.

I stood up with trembling legs. "You are wrong, Desmond. You are very wrong." My voice was a shaky whisper. "I am not broken; I am not 'what you want.'" I am Evelyn, your wife.

I have loved and supported you, and yes, I wanted to give you a child, but it was not meant to be.

"You are blaming fate," he said, his tone contemptuous. "I do not believe in fate.​I believe in action. You did not act, nor did you try hard enough. And now I am left with nothing.

"I doubt that you can give birth".

I looked him in the eyes and spoke steadily.

"You are not a family. You are not a man who needs a wife to feel complete. Desmond, I am Evelyn, and we have made a decision together. And I refuse to be reduced to a biological incubator." You called me barren, huh?"

I spat out the word as bile rose in my throat.

Desmond's face was red, his voice tight with fury. He threw my tiny bag at me, the flimsy strap catching on the doorframe as it whizzed past. "Get out. Now!" he snarled. I stood there, stunned, like I was watching a scene unfold in a dream. It couldn't be real.

I walked out of the room, numb and confused. My feet moved automatically, taking me further and further away from his apartment, away from the place that had been my home for the past year.

I didn't know where I was going, where I could even go. I felt like I was adrift, a tiny boat tossed about on a stormy sea.

The neon glow of a bar across the street seemed to beckon me. I had never been in a bar before, but it felt strangely familiar. The warmth of the lights, the sounds of laughter and conversation, offered a sense of comfort, a sense of belonging.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, feeling a strange sense of confidence, a determination to act as though this wasn't my first time. The bartender, a tall, wiry man with a kind face and tired eyes, looked up at me. "What can I get you?" he asked. "Something strong," I said, trying to sound cool and nonchalant. "Something that'll make me forget."

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Sounds like you've got a story, kid. What'll it be?" I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach. "Whiskey," I said, "Neat." He nodded, the familiar movements of a bartender who had seen it all. "Coming right up.

Anything else I can get you while you're here?" I smiled, trying to look like I knew exactly what I was doing. "Maybe some company?" He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Depends on the company, kid. What kind of company are you looking for?"

"The kind that makes you forget all your troubles," I said, my voice husky, trying to sound alluring. My heart thumped in my chest, a frantic drum solo against the backdrop of the bar's low hum. This wasn't me, this wasn't my usual shy, reserved self.

But something had shifted, a switch had flipped. Desmond's rejection had broken ​ inside me, leaving a raw, vulnerable core exposed.

The bartender, his eyes twinkling with amusement, slid a glass of amber liquid towards me. "You're in the right place, then," he said, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "But you need more than a drink to forget your troubles, kid. You need a good story. A story with a happy ending."

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "You look like you've got a story, a good one. Maybe even a scandalous one. Want to tell me about it?"

I took a sip of the whiskey, the burn a welcome sensation in my throat. It felt like a fire, a cleansing fire, burning away the pain and confusion.

"It's not a happy ending," I whispered, my voice almost inaudible. "It's a story about betrayal, about love gone wrong."

He nodded understandingly. "Everyone has a story like that, kid. But the good news is, you're here now. You're alive, you're breathing, and you've got a fresh start." He paused, his eyes holding mine. "You just need to find the right person to share it with. Someone who'll listen, someone who'll understand."

I looked around the bar, at the faces lost in conversation, the couples laughing, the lone figures nursing their drinks. There were so many stories here, so many secrets whispered in the dim light.

Suddenly, I felt a presence beside me. A man, tall and handsome, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, was looking at me with interest. He had a rugged charm, a dangerous allure that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice smooth and confident.

My heart hammered in my chest. I wanted to run, to hide, to disappear into the shadows. But something, a flicker of defiance, a spark of hope, held me in place.

"Sure," I said, my voice barely a whisper. He slid onto the stool beside me, his presence a palpable wave of warmth and energy. "I heard you needed a good story," he said, a playful smile curving his lips. "Well, you've come to the right place. Let's just say I'm full of them."

He reached for my hand, his touch a jolt of electricity. "Now, tell me, what's your story, sweetheart? I'm all ears."

My heart pounded in my chest. His eyes were like pools of dark chocolate, mesmerizing and alluring. My body trembled, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through me. This was dangerous. But it was also exhilarating.

I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the whiskey coursing through my veins. "You want a good story?" I said, leaning closer, my voice a husky whisper. "You've come to the right place."

It is now softer. "You look like you need a hug."we alI laughed with a dry, humorless sound.

I slipped a wad of cash into his hand. "Here, take this. "Just give me another drink,I don't need this strangers company".

I shrugged, feeling a strange sense of defiance rising within me. "Let's just say I'm a generous tipper," I replied, feeling a ​ urge to escape, to forget. One gin and tonic wasn't going to cut it. 

"Sure, ma'am," he said, nodding slowly.

I was shocked why stopped calling me kid "Well,he was trying to make me seem like a naive lady".

I muttered to myself and watched him rush to the counter and prepare my drink—the clink of ice and the pour of gin—a welcome distraction from the gnawing anxiety that wouldn't leave me alone. 

He slid the glass towards me. "Here you go. On the house," he said, his voiceheentle. 

I took a sip, the gin sharp and icy on my tongue. It felt good—that burning sensation, a temporary numbness that washed over my thoughts. 

"Another one," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I felt like I was losing control, but in a way, I didn't care.

 ​This was more than the whiskey I took at first,my sudden change made me understand why the stranger left without a word but just a playful smile.

The bartender nodded, and withouth a practiced hand, poured another gin and tonic.

Evelyn

"I feel good," I said, a genuine smile finally spreading across my face. "I needed that." The bartender chuckled, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "Good to hear it, ma'am. Let me know if you need anything else." The bar's noise and smoke swirled around me, a dizzying, confusing mix of sights and sounds.

The music throbbed, a relentless beat against my already throbbing head. Desmond's words, sharp and cutting, replayed in my mind: "You're barren. I need a woman who can give me kids. You're just bad luck." I tried to stand, to get out of the bar, but my legs wobbled, and my vision blurred.

I bumped into someone, sending a glass of amber liquid flying. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I cried out, my voice cracking. The stranger, tall and handsome, with a dark, chiseled jawline, caught the glass before it shattered. "No worries," he said, his voice a deep, soothing rumble. "Are you alright?" I felt hot and flustered, my cheeks burning. "Yeah, I'm fine," I stammered,