CEO's Revenge- She Begged After the Divorce

Chapter 2: The Awakening

The black Bentley Mulsanne arrived at the curb precisely twelve minutes after Alex finished the call. He was not astonished by the accuracy—his father had consistently prioritized punctuality over nearly all other things. What surprised him was the absence of any feeling as he settled into the buttery-soft leather seats, watching his former life fade away in the restaurant's warm golden light.

"Good evening, Mr. Chen," remarked the driver, an elderly man with silver hair that Alex didn't know. "At the estate, your father is waiting."

Alex nodded, observing Manhattan fade away through the tinted glass. The city where he had fought for three years now appeared smaller in some way, less daunting. It's odd how a viewpoint can change so significantly in just one night.

His phone vibrated nonstop with calls from Emma. He disabled the ringer after the fifth call, yet the screen kept flashing like a disco ball. Every ignored call seemed to peel away another layer of the man he had feigned to be.

The Bentley smoothly passed through the Holland Tunnel and entered New Jersey, then proceeded north through more and more upscale neighborhoods until they arrived at the entrance of the Chen family estate. Alex had overlooked just how intimidating they appeared—twenty feet of forged iron crowned with surveillance cameras that likely cost more than many people's vehicles.

"Welcome back, young master," the guard remarked as the gates opened quietly.

Young master….. Alex nearly smiled. He had not heard that title for three years.

The property extended over forty-seven acres of meticulously maintained beauty. The primary residence—a lavish of classic Chinese design and contemporary opulence—rested like a precious gem amidst meticulously designed gardens and tranquil ponds. Security staff glided like phantoms among the trees, undetectable unless you knew how to spot them.

When the Bentley came to a halt at the main entrance, Alex spotted his father standing on the steps.

Richard Chen looked as if he had not aged at all. At fifty-eight, he still embodied a sense of composed strength—his silver-streaked hair impeccably styled, posture impeccably straight, dressed in a plain black suit that likely exceeded Alex's yearly rent. His deep-set eyes, resembling Alex's own, betrayed nothing as his wayward son stepped out of the vehicle.

"Alex." His father's voice resonated throughout the courtyard like a verdict.

"Father."

They gazed at one another for an extended moment. Alex knew how he appeared—his inexpensive suit creased and still wet from the rain, his shoes worn, everything about him shouting *commonplace*. Three years prior, that would have embarrassed him. At this point, he just remained patient.

"You look awful," Richard remarked at last.

"I'm feeling more unwell."

A glimmer appeared in his father's eyes—perhaps approval or astonishment. "Enter inside." "There's a lot for us to talk about."

The inside of the house was precisely as Alex recalled: a work of art in understated elegance where each item of furniture, every artwork, and each decorative piece had been selected for its beauty and the discreet presentation of affluence. They moved quietly along hallways adorned with Ming dynasty vases and modern art that museums would covet.

Richard guided him to the private study, a room Alex had both cherished and dreaded as a child. The walls were adorned with first-edition books and family portraits spanning seven generations, complemented by floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a sweeping view of the estate's gardens.

"Take a seat," Richard instructed, waving towards one of the leather chairs in front of his large oak desk.

Alex stayed on his feet. "I'm no longer a child, Father."

Richard lifted his eyebrows a bit. "Certainly not." Three years back, you were a child pretending in a reality you couldn't grasp, fleeing from obligation because you believed love mattered more than inheritance. Now... He examined Alex's face closely. "Now you appear to be someone who understands how the real world treats idealists."

"Was that who I was?" A person who believes in ideals?

"You were innocent." Richard approached the window, fingers intertwined behind him. "You believed you could forsake all I established for you, all that your grandfather forged, all the sacrifices of seven generations of the Chen family, all for a woman who viewed you merely as an easy source of income."

The words hurt because they were accurate. Alex had turned his back on his inheritance, on Chen Industries—a global company involved in sectors from technology to real estate—because he thought Emma would cherish him for his true self, not for his possessions.

"She was never aware," Alex said softly.

"Naturally, she did not." Due to your excessive pride in refusing to utilize the innate abilities you possess, and your refusal to accept that love devoid of respect is merely another kind of abuse.”

Richard turned back to face him. "How much did you give her? Financially, I mean."

Alex's jaw tightened. "Everything."

"Be specific."

"Three hundred thousand. Maybe more. I stopped counting after the first year."

Richard's expression didn't change, but Alex caught the slight tightening around his eyes. "Your trust fund payments."

"Every penny." Alex had been receiving fifty thousand dollars quarterly since his eighteenth birthday—money he'd told Emma came from "bonuses and freelance work." "Plus my salary, my savings, everything."

"And her family?"

"Another hundred thousand, probably. Her brother's 'investments,' her mother's credit card bills, medical expenses for her father..." Alex laughed bitterly. "They treated me like their personal ATM."

"While treating you like hired help in return."

It wasn't a question, but Alex nodded anyway. "Emma's mother made it clear daily that I wasn't good enough for her daughter. That Emma deserved better."

"She was right."

Alex looked up sharply.

"Emma did deserve better," Richard continued calmly. "She deserved someone who wouldn't lie to her about who he was, someone who wouldn't pretend to be poor to test her character, someone who wouldn't waste both their time on a relationship built on deception." His voice hardened. "What she got instead was my son playing games with people's lives."

The accusation hit Alex like a physical blow. "I wasn't playing games. I was trying to find someone who could love me for—"

"For who you are?" Richard interrupted. "You never gave her that chance. You created a fictional version of yourself and expected her to fall in love with it. When she inevitably fails to meet impossible standards , you're surprised?"

Alex felt his temper flare—the first real emotion he'd shown all evening. "So this is my fault? Her cheating, her family's abuse, her complete lack of respect—that's all on me?"

"Her actions are her own responsibility," Richard stated calmly. "However, your reaction to them, your choice to tolerate them, your decision to remain in a relationship where you were evidently unhappy—that's your responsibility." He approached his desk, retrieving a bulky folder. "That leads us to the reason for your presence."

"I contacted you since—"

"You contacted me because you’ve reached your lowest point and recognized you require what I can provide." Richard unsealed the folder, disclosing images, financial documents, and what appeared to be surveillance records. "You're calling because you seek retribution."

Alex looked intently at what was inside the folder. There were images of Emma alongside Richard Blackstone—seemingly the name of her lover—predating back several months. Financial documents indicating her retail therapy and wellness excursions. Credit card statements showing the degree of her family's reliance on Alex's kindness.

"You had her tracked?"

"I had both of you watched since the day you departed from this home." Richard's tone was straightforward. "Did you believe I would just leave my only son to the wolves?" "I've been observing, anticipating, wishing you would regain your clarity before you totally ruined yourself."

Alex picked up one of the photographs—Emma and Blackstone entering a hotel together, date-stamped two weeks ago. "How long?"

"Four months. Though the emotional affair started long before that." Richard sat behind his desk, suddenly looking more like a CEO than a father. "Richard Blackstone III, heir to the Blackstone Real Estate Empire. Net worth approximately two billion dollars. Currently under investigation by the SEC for securities fraud, though he doesn't know it yet."

"You investigated him too?"

"I investigate everyone who comes into contact with my family." Richard leaned back in his chair. "Now, let me ask you a question, Alexander. What do you want?"

Alex looked up from the photographs. "What do you mean?"

"It's a simple question. You've been betrayed, humiliated, financially exploited, and emotionally abused for three years. Tonight, you finally walked away. So I ask again—what do you want?"

Alex thought about Emma's laugh as she fed strawberries to another man. Her mother's endless insults. Her brother's casual assumption that Alex existed solely to fund his lifestyle. The years of being invisible in his own home.

"I want them to understand what they threw away," he said quietly.

Richard smiled—the first genuine expression he'd shown all evening. "Good. That's the first honest thing you've said since you walked through that door." He stood, moving to a hidden panel behind his desk that opened to reveal a wall safe. "Then let's discuss your inheritance."

He pulled out a stack of legal documents and set them on the desk between them. "Chen Industries has grown considerably in your absence. Current valuation is approximately twenty-eight billion dollars. Your share, as my only heir, is sixty percent—sixteen point eight billion dollars."

Alex's mouth went dry. When he'd left three years ago, the company had been worth maybe eight billion.

"We've expanded into renewable energy, artificial intelligence, and cryptocurrency. The New York real estate portfolio alone is worth more than most Fortune 500 companies." Richard picked up another document. "This is the deed to the penthouse at 432 Park Avenue. Fifty million dollars, purchased last year. I had intended it as a wedding gift, but given the circumstances..."

"Father—"

"There's also the matter of your position in the company. I've held the title of Executive Vice President open for you. Starting salary is two million annually, plus bonuses tied to performance. You'd oversee our East Coast operations—approximately forty thousand employees across seventeen states."

Alex stared at the documents, his mind reeling. Three years ago, he'd walked away from maybe fifty million dollars and a comfortable executive position. Now his father was offering him nearly seventeen billion and control of half the company.

"Why now?" Alex asked. "Why not three years ago when I left?"

"Because three years ago, you weren't ready. You were a boy who thought money was the root of all evil, who believed that wealth corrupted everything it touched." Richard sat back down. "Now you realize that being poor doesn't grant you virtue—it only renders you vulnerable to those who would exploit you."

Alex's phone, quiet for the last hour, suddenly burst into calls once more. Emma's name appeared on the screen, followed by her mother's, and then her brother's. It appeared that rumors were circulating that he had submitted divorce papers.

"They're panicking," Richard observed, glancing at the phone. "Wondering how they'll pay for their lifestyle without their personal bank account."

"Let them wonder."

"Or..." Richard opened another folder, this one much thicker. "You could show them exactly what they've lost."

Inside were architectural plans for a luxury development project, financial projections, and partnership agreements. Alex recognized some of the companies involved—his father's competitors, including Blackstone Real Estate.

"The Hudson Yards project," Richard explained. "Fifteen billion dollar development. Residential towers, commercial space, luxury shopping. The city approved it last month, and bidding opens next week." He pointed to a particular section of the plans. "Blackstone Real Estate is the front-runner. They've been positioning for this contract for two years."

Alex began to understand. "You want to outbid them."

"I want to crush them." Richard's voice was cold as winter steel. "Completely, publicly, and permanently. Blackstone's entire company is leveraged against getting this contract. If they lose it, they lose everything."

"Including Emma's new boyfriend."

"Including Emma's new boyfriend." Richard gathered the documents. "But I won't do it without you. Chen Industries has always been a family business. If you want revenge, you'll earn it by taking your rightful place at my side."

Alex looked at his father, really looked at him for the first time in three years. He saw the loneliness Richard tried to hide, the years of hoping his son would come home, the carefully controlled love that had never known how to express itself except through business and strategy.

"What would I have to do?"

"Tomorrow morning, you'll return to your apartment—our apartment, as it turns out, since I've been the one paying the rent through a shell company. You'll pack your things while Emma is at work. Then you'll come to the office, and we'll announce your return to the company."

"And then?"

Richard smiled, and for the first time, Alex saw something predatory in it. "Then we show Manhattan what happens when you disrespect a Chen family."

Alex thought about Emma, probably still at the restaurant with Blackstone, celebrating what she thought was her freedom from a dead-weight husband. He thought about her family, already planning how they'd manipulate her new wealthy boyfriend. He thought about three years of invisible servitude, of being treated like he was worth nothing.

"All right," he said. "I'm in."

Richard nodded, already reaching for his phone. "Good. I'll have Legal draft the paperwork tonight. "By tomorrow night, you'll officially hold the title of Executive Vice President at Chen Industries and become one of the wealthiest individuals in New York."

While his father dialed numbers and Alex examined agreements that would alter his life permanently, his personal phone kept vibrating with more and more urgent messages from his soon-to-be former spouse. He looked at the most recent message:

*"Alex, kindly return my call." We should have a conversation. "I believe I made an error."

Alex powered the phone down entirely.

Emma was correct about one thing—she had erred.

She simply didn't realize how serious it was yet.