My CEO Ex: Let Me Go.-Chapter 18

I could feel Alexander’s anger building; his face darkened as he sneered, “I don’t have the right to control you? You’re my wife and my sister. Think about it—why would he want to send you abroad? Once you’re there, you’ll be alone. Who knows what might happen?”

What might happen? I couldn’t predict that either.

All I knew was that I was on the verge of losing my mind.

Frustrated, I kicked the blanket away, but then—“Hiss—”

The wound on my ankle brushed against something, and the sharp pain nearly knocked me out. I couldn’t help but gasp, tears welling up in my eyes.

Alexander quickly pulled the blanket back and grabbed my injured ankle. His expression was filled with urgency. “What happened? Did you hurt it again?” 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

I blinked through the tears and nodded, feeling a surge of frustration.

He quickly grabbed some medicine, unwrapped the bandage on my ankle, and carefully cleaned the wound before massaging it gently. Finally, he applied a cooling ointment, and the pain began to subside.

He placed the ointment back and still looked serious. “Vivienne, I won’t let you quit your job. Don’t bring it up again.”

I sighed deeply, irritated, and lowered my head in silence.

Alexander sat on the edge of the bed, his tone cold. “We’re not divorced yet. Don’t bring anyone into the house.”

I lifted my head, unable to stop myself from asking, “Not even friends?”

He glanced at me briefly, then shifted his gaze to the crutch beside my feet, his voice icy. “Is he your friend?”

I turned my face away, infuriated.

Alexander really was impossible!

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I muttered, on the verge of tears from his words.

After dinner, I went upstairs to wash up, only to find a document on the table.

Had Alexander just come from Isabella’s place? No, he was supposed to be coming back from the company today, wasn’t he?

I leaned over to take a look, only to realize it wasn’t a company document—it was a medical record from Saint James Hospital.

Isabella Blackwood’s medical record?

How could she be ill?

Curiosity piqued, I reached for the file, but hesitated when my fingers brushed against it.

I turned and entered the bathroom. When I came back out after washing up, the medical record was gone.

The next morning, I hobbled downstairs for breakfast.

I looked at Alexander and asked, “Are we going to get the divorce decree today?”

He glanced at me, his gaze briefly landing on my ankle, then spoke slowly, “Are you sure you can go?”

“I can, I have a crutch,” I said, tapping it against the floor. “It’s not like I can’t walk.”

Alexander shook his head. “I’m leaving for a business trip today. I don’t have time. We’ll do it when I get back.”

I frowned. “A business trip? Where to?”

“The project transferred from your department. What, do you want to come with me?” His tone carried a hint of mockery.

I quickly shook my head. “I’m not going.”

“Then wait for me to come back.” His tone was flat but final, as though there was no room for argument.

It sounded like a normal exchange between a married couple, but deep down, I knew our relationship had already been shattered beyond repair.

...

After Alexander left for his business trip, I stayed home to recover for a few more days. When I got bored, I would check the news, and occasionally, I’d see something related to me due to big data recommendations.

One day, a notification caught my eye with the headline: Isabella’s Reuters photos spark controversy, V&R employees say: ’We have no choice, she’s the boss’s wife.’

At first, I thought it was just a clickbait account spreading rumors. But when I clicked on the link, I realized this wasn’t just some random site.

The article included several Reuters photos of Isabella. These weren’t ordinary paparazzi shots; they were candid photos taken during the V&R advertising campaign, clearly snapped by someone inside the company.

The angles and clarity made it obvious that the photos had been taken by an insider.

The article didn’t focus on the content of the photos but instead highlighted Isabella’s peculiar makeup.

Her makeup, intended to accentuate her elegance, instead overemphasized her cheekbones, giving her a sharp, almost malicious look. Her red lips were overly full with sharp edges, making her upper lip and philtrum look unnaturally short, disrupting her facial harmony. Her brows were drawn too straight and stiff, giving them a comical appearance.

The photos quickly sparked heated discussions, especially among Lena Ashford’s followers, who mocked Isabella’s look. They commented on V&R’s official post:

“Should’ve picked our Lena.”

With three parties fueling the flames, the topic quickly went viral, and more people began to pay attention.

“Such horrible makeup! It’s a waste of her pretty face!”

“Did you do your makeup with your toes? Can’t you take a look at my previous works? You can’t even imitate properly.”

“Unbelievable. I’m the wife of your CEO. How can you be so careless?”

“Makeup artists here can’t compare to those abroad.”

Not only Lena Ashford’s fans but also many confused bystanders joined in the attack.

Amidst all the comments and heated discussions, including fan infighting, the replies to V&R’s Twitter exploded.

I quickly called my assistant. “Has CCPR noticed? Get this topic suppressed as soon as possible.”

Not long after, the assistant called back, sounding helpless. “Director Vivienne, CCPR said they’ve already reported it to CEO Hawthorne, and they’re handling it with Isabella’s team.”

My heart sank. In the past, whenever something like this happened with V&R, CCPR was almost entirely under my control. I wouldn’t have let anyone else interfere. But since Isabella’s brand endorsement, it was clear Alexander no longer trusted me and had handed everything over to Olivia.

I forced a bitter smile and silently prayed Olivia would handle things smoothly, without causing me any more trouble.

Just then, Maggie came upstairs. "Mrs. Hawthorne, there’s a delivery for you. Here, take a look."

"Delivery?" I frowned in confusion. I hadn’t ordered anything recently, and I knew Alexander hadn’t bought anything either.

Maggie glanced at me, clearly puzzled. "Mrs. Hawthorne, haven’t you made any recent purchases? Could it be that the courier made a mistake? I checked the label several times, and it’s definitely your contact information."

I smiled, trying to ease her concerns. "It’s fine. Maybe it’s a gift from someone. Let’s open it and see."

Maggie handed me the package.

I grabbed a small knife and sliced through the tape, opening the box. But the moment I saw what was inside, my face went pale. Without thinking, I shoved it aside and bent down, fighting the urge to gag.