CEO's Revenge- She Begged After the Divorce

Chapter 3: The Transformation

The morning sun cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Alex's childhood bedroom, waking him in a space he hadn't occupied in three years. For a moment, disoriented, he thought he was back in the cramped apartment with Emma. Then he saw the custom-made furniture, the original artwork on the walls, and the view of the estate's gardens stretching toward the horizon, and reality settled over him like a well-tailored coat.

His old life had ended last night. Today, his real life began.

A soft knock at the door preceded the entrance of Robert, his father's personal attendant. "Good morning, Mr. Chen. Your father requests your presence for breakfast in thirty minutes. I've prepared your wardrobe selections in the dressing room."

Alex nodded, the formal routine coming back to him instantly. "Thank you, Robert."

The dressing room was a stark contrast to the small closet he'd shared with Emma. An entire wall displayed suits—Tom Ford, Brioni, Ermenegildo Zegna—all perfectly tailored to his measurements. Another wall showcased shirts, ties, and accessories organized by color and occasion. Shoes lined the bottom shelves like soldiers at attention.

Robert had selected a charcoal grey Brioni suit, crisp white shirt, and a tie the color of old money. Alex dressed methodically, watching his reflection change with each piece. The man staring back at him looked nothing like the soaked, defeated figure from last night. This was Alexander Chen, heir to billions, about to reclaim his empire.

His phone—the cheap Android he'd used for three years—sat dead on the nightstand. In its place was a new iPhone with a note from his father: *"New life, new number. Your old contacts have been transferred except for three. You know which ones."

Emma, her mother, and her brother. Deleted from his phone, soon to be deleted from his life entirely.

Breakfast was served in the morning room, where his father was already reviewing financial reports on a tablet while sipping espresso. Richard looked up as Alex entered, and something approximating approval crossed his features.

"Better," he said simply. "Sit. We have fourteen minutes before the car arrives."

A full spread awaited—fresh fruit, pastries, eggs prepared three different ways, and coffee that probably cost more per pound than Alex's old monthly grocery budget. He'd forgotten what real luxury tasted like.

"Legal finished the paperwork at 3 AM," Richard said, sliding a folder across the table. "Sign these, and you're officially Executive Vice President. The board meeting is at nine. The press conference announcing your return is at eleven."

Alex opened the folder, scanning the dense legal language. "Press conference?"

"Your return to Chen Industries is news. We control the narrative, or the media does. I prefer controlling narratives." Richard set down his tablet. "I've already had PR prepare your talking points. You'll say you took time away to gain real-world experience, understand the struggles of average workers, and develop perspective that will make you a better leader. Very humanitarian, very relatable."

"Very calculated."

"Everything in business is calculated, Alexander. The sooner you remember that, the better." Richard buttered a croissant with mechanical precision. "Your apartment situation—I assume you want to collect your belongings personally?"

"I need to see it one last time." Alex wasn't sure why, but the idea of someone else packing up the remnants of his failed marriage felt wrong.

"The building is owned by Chen Industries subsidiary corporation. I've arranged for security to accompany you at 7:30 AM. Emma leaves for work at 8:15 every morning. You'll have the apartment to yourself." Richard paused. "Unless you want to confront her."

Did he? Alex thought about the dozens of unanswered calls, the increasingly desperate text messages that had come through before he'd turned off his old phone. Part of him wanted to see her face when she realized who he really was. But a larger part simply wanted to disappear from her life as thoroughly as she'd erased him from hers.

"No confrontation. I just want my things."

"Wise." Richard checked his watch. "The apartment is already legally yours—I've had the lease transferred to your name. Emma is technically squatting at this point, though she doesn't know it yet. We'll give her thirty days to vacate."

The casual way his father discussed displacing Emma should have bothered Alex. Instead, he felt only a cold satisfaction. She'd wanted everything in the divorce? She could have everything—for exactly one month. Then she'd discover that "everything" was nothing at all.

The Bentley arrived precisely on schedule, joined by a second vehicle carrying three security personnel. Alex watched the estate disappear in the rearview mirror, Manhattan's skyline growing larger ahead like a promise of things to come.

The apartment building looked different in the morning light—smaller, less impressive. Alex had thought it was luxury when he'd signed the lease three years ago, thrilled to afford a doorman building in a decent neighborhood. Now he recognized it for what it was: middle-class aspiration, nothing more.

"Mr. Chen," the doorman stammered as Alex approached with his security detail. "I didn't realize—that is, I wasn't informed—"

"It's fine, Marcus." Alex had always been kind to the building staff, one of the few dignities he'd maintained. "I'm just here to collect some things."

The penthouse elevator required a key. Alex used the one his father had provided, watching the floors tick upward. His hands should have been shaking, but they weren't. He felt eerily calm, like an actor stepping into a role he'd been rehearsing for years without knowing it.

The apartment still smelled like Emma's perfume—expensive, floral, purchased with his money. Everything looked exactly as he'd left it, except for the wine glasses in the sink. Two of them. She'd brought Blackstone here, into their home, probably last night after the restaurant.

Alex moved through the rooms methodically, directed by one of the security personnel who carried empty boxes. His clothes from the closet—cheap suits and worn shoes. His books from the shelf—mostly financial theory and business strategy Emma had mocked as "boring." His laptop, his running shoes, the watch his father had given him when he turned eighteen that he'd hidden in a drawer so Emma's family wouldn't ask questions.

In the bedroom, he paused at Emma's vanity. Photographs lined the mirror—their wedding day, vacations, dinners with her family. In every picture, Alex was smiling. Emma looked happy too, but now he recognized it for what it was: the satisfaction of having secured a reliable source of funding, not love.

One photograph made him stop. Their first date, at a small Italian restaurant in the Village. They'd shared a dessert because Alex had "just started his job" and couldn't afford two. Emma had laughed and called it romantic. He'd believed her.

"Mr. Chen?" One of the security guards stood in the doorway. "We've packed everything from your office and the living room. Do you need more time?"

Alex set down the photograph. "No. I'm done here."

As they loaded the boxes into the elevator, Alex's new phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "Alex? This is Emma. I got your new number from your office. Please, we need to talk. I know you're upset, but we can work this out. Call me."

His office. She was already trying to manipulate his new life, calling the company he'd deliberately kept secret from her.

He forwarded the message to his father with a single word: "Handle it."

The response came immediately: *"Already done. She's been blacklisted from contacting Chen Industries. Security has her photo."

Chen Industries headquarters occupied three floors of a glass tower in Midtown, with views stretching from the Hudson to the East River. Alex had visited once as a teenager and been overwhelmed by the scale. Now, walking through the lobby flanked by security, he felt something different: ownership.

Employees stared as he passed. Word had clearly spread overnight—the prodigal son was returning, and everything was about to change.

His father waited by the private elevator, along with a woman in her thirties wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit. She had sharp eyes and the kind of confident posture that suggested she didn't tolerate nonsense.

"Alexander, this is Jennifer Park, your new executive assistant. She's been with the company for six years and has my complete trust." Richard gestured to the elevator. "Jennifer will brief you before the board meeting."

"Mr. Chen." Jennifer's handshake was firm, professional. "I've prepared an overview of all current projects, the board member profiles, and your father's strategic objectives for the next quarter. I've also taken the liberty of clearing your schedule for the next week except for essential meetings."

The executive floor was subdued luxury—hardwood, leather, and glass that screamed power without shouting. Jennifer led him to an office that made his old cubicle look like a storage closet. Corner location, wraparound windows, furniture that probably cost more than most cars.

"This is yours," she said, gesturing around. "Your father's office is through that connecting door. I sit just outside. These are the current project files—" She indicated a stack of leather portfolios on the desk. "And this is the situation you need to understand immediately."

She pulled up a presentation on the wall-mounted screen. "Hudson Yards development. Fifteen billion dollar project. Six companies are bidding, but only two have serious chances: Chen Industries and Blackstone Real Estate."

Alex studied the projections. "Blackstone is the favorite."

"They were. They've been lobbying for two years, have relationships with half the city council, and Richard Blackstone III has been personally courting the mayor." Jennifer clicked to another slide showing a timeline. "However, their entire financial structure depends on winning this contract. They've leveraged every asset, called in every favor. If they lose..."

"They're finished."

"Completely." Jennifer's smile was sharp. "Your father has been planning this for eighteen months. He's been publicly positioning Chen Industries as the underdog while quietly securing support from every stakeholder that matters. When we win—and we will win—Blackstone Real Estate will collapse within ninety days."

Alex thought about Richard Blackstone feeding Emma strawberries while mocking the "help" who paid her bills. "Good."

"There's one complication." Jennifer pulled up a photo that made Alex's stomach clench. Emma, photographed yesterday, entering Blackstone Real Estate headquarters. "Emma Winters has been hired as Blackstone's new marketing director. She started this morning."

"That's impossible. She's never worked in real estate."

"She doesn't need to. She's window dressing—a pretty face for Blackstone to parade at charity events and city functions. Richard Blackstone is using her exactly the way he uses everything else: as a tool." Jennifer studied Alex's reaction. "Your father thought you should know before the board meeting. Blackstone will be there presenting his proposal. She'll likely be with him."

Alex walked to the windows, looking out over Manhattan. Somewhere in this city, Emma was starting her new job, probably thrilled with her rich boyfriend and her escape from her "embarrassing" husband. She had no idea that the company she'd just joined was already dead—it just hadn't stopped moving yet.

"Does she know?" he asked quietly. "About me?"

"No one outside Chen Industries leadership knows you're Richard Chen's son. Your father has kept it remarkably quiet. As far as the business world knows, you're a new executive with an impressive but vague background." Jennifer paused. "That changes today. The press conference at eleven will make you one of the most talked-about people in New York."

"And when Emma sees it?"

"That depends on whether she's watching the news or too busy celebrating her new life." Jennifer's tone was neutral, but Alex caught the edge of disapproval. She'd clearly been briefed on his situation.

The next three hours passed in a blur of briefings, introductions, and strategy sessions. The board meeting was at nine, and Alex needed to be ready to face eighteen of the most powerful people in New York business—including, apparently, his ex-wife's new boyfriend.

At 8:55AM, Jennifer knocked on his door. "It's time, Mr. Chen."

Alex straightened his tie, checked his reflection in the window, and followed her to the boardroom. He'd spent three years being invisible, being dismissed, being treated like he didn't matter.

That ended today.

The boardroom was already full when they entered—expensive suits, carefully styled hair, and the kind of predatory confidence that came from moving billions of dollars with a signature. Conversations stopped as Richard stood.

"Gentlemen, ladies, thank you for attending on short notice." Richard gestured to Alex. "I'd like to introduce my son, Alexander Chen, who will be joining us as Executive Vice President effective immediately."

The room erupted in controlled chaos—surprised murmurs, shocked expressions, a few knowing nods from people who'd apparently suspected. And at the far end of the table, Richard Blackstone III stared at Alex with dawning recognition and horror.

"You," Blackstone breathed. "You're the—"

"Husband?" Alex finished calmly, taking the seat his father indicated. "Soon to be ex-husband, yes. Though I appreciate you keeping Emma occupied last night. The divorce papers were much easier to sign without her making a scene."

Blackstone's face went red, then white. Beside him, an older board member who clearly hadn't been briefed whispered urgently in his ear.

"Now then," Richard continued as if nothing had happened, "let's discuss the Hudson Yards project. Mr. Blackstone, I believe you wanted to present first?"

Alex watched Blackstone fumble with his presentation, suddenly off-balance and uncertain. The man who'd been so confident mocking "the help" last night now looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.

And this was just the beginning.

After the meeting—which Blackstone had stumbled through like a first-year intern—Jennifer pulled Alex aside. "Your father wants you ready for the press conference. Hair and makeup are waiting in the executive suite. We go live in ninety minutes."

"And Emma?"

Jennifer checked her phone. "Currently in a Blackstone Real Estate marketing meeting. She has no idea what's about to happen."

Perfect.

The press conference was held in Chen Industries' main auditorium, packed with reporters from every major financial publication and news network in the country. Alex stood backstage, listening to his father's introduction, feeling the weight of what was about to happen.

"...and it's my great pleasure to welcome home my son, Alexander Chen, who will be taking his rightful place as Executive Vice President and my successor..."

The applause was thunderous as Alex walked onto the stage. Camera flashes created a strobe effect, and he could see the reporters already typing on their phones and laptops, sending out breaking news alerts.

Somewhere in the city, Emma's phone was probably buzzing.

Somewhere, she was watching her entire world shift beneath her feet.

And Alex Chen, who'd spent three years being invisible, was finally stepping into the light.