My Divorced CEO Wife Is Begging for Me Back

Chapter 3

Conan woke up on the couch before sunrise.

Rhea had already left for the airport. He folded his blanket and was about to make breakfast when his phone rang.

"Milan General Hospital. Am I speaking to Conan Ashworth?"

"Yes."

"Clara Voss was brought in after a serious car accident this morning. You're listed as her emergency contact. She's being taken into surgery, and the doctors need you here immediately."

Conan went cold.

"How badly is she hurt?"

"I'm sorry, sir. The doctor will explain when you arrive."

He grabbed his jacket.

Clara was Rhea's mother, but she'd always treated Conan like her own son. She was the only member of the Voss family who had never looked down on him.

Whenever Rhea criticized him for staying home instead of building a career, Clara defended him.

"He gave up so much to support you, Rhea. When was the last time you did something for him?"

Rhea hated those arguments. Clara never backed down.

Even with the divorce approaching, Conan couldn't abandon the woman who had treated him like family.

He was reaching for the front door when it opened.

Rhea walked in, followed by Daven.

Conan barely noticed him.

"Rhea, Mom's been in a serious accident. She's at Milan General. Come with me."

Rhea stopped, but only briefly.

"I'm busy today. I've got company matters to handle."

"Rhea, she's in surgery. We need to..."

"Then hurry to the hospital." She glanced at Daven. "Before you go, make him something to eat. He hasn't had breakfast."

Conan stared at her.

"You're asking me to cook right now?"

"It's just breakfast, Conan. Toast and milk will take five minutes."

Daven stepped forward with an apologetic smile.

"Rhea, don't trouble him. I've just returned from a long flight, but I can wait. He should get to the hospital. What if his mother's condition gets worse?"

Conan's jaw tightened.

"Watch what you're saying."

Daven blinked.

"I'm sorry. I only meant that we should prepare for the worst. I didn't mean to upset you."

Rhea immediately frowned at Conan.

"Why are you snapping at him? He's showing concern for your mother."

Conan looked at her.

"Rhea, listen to me. The woman in the hospital is..."

"I heard you. And I'm telling you to go after you've made breakfast. You've been doing the cooking for three years. Surely you can manage something this simple."

Daven quickly raised his hands.

"Please, Rhea. I can make breakfast myself. You've already done so much today. Why don't you sit down and rest?"

Her expression softened.

"See, Conan? Daven knows how to be considerate. You've been living under my roof for three years, yet you can't even prepare a simple breakfast without complaining."

Conan felt something inside him give way.

Clara was lying in an operating room, and her own daughter was more concerned about whether Daven had eaten.

He'd been trying to tell Rhea the truth. She hadn't let him finish a single sentence.

For three years, he'd tolerated her coldness toward him. But Clara deserved better than this.

"Since Daven's back, I'll step aside," Conan said. "You can be together."

He took the divorce agreement from the coffee table, signed the remaining signature page, and slid it toward Rhea.

"Sign it."

Rhea looked at the document.

"Conan, are you really going to keep this up? All because I picked Daven up from the airport?"

"I'm not arguing with you. Just sign."

She reached for the papers, apparently intending to read them.

A sharp crash interrupted her.

Daven had knocked a glass from the side table. Shards scattered across the floor.

"Daven!" Rhea hurried toward him. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing." He showed her a small cut on his finger, then glanced toward Conan. "You should finish signing whatever Conan brought you. I don't want to hold things up."

He gave Conan a sympathetic look.

"Though I find it hard to believe he'd actually divorce you. After finally marrying into the Voss family, why would he give up such a comfortable life?"

"Daven..." Rhea began.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't speculate." He lowered his voice. "Maybe he just needs more spending money. Couples argue about these things all the time."

Rhea's face tightened. "Conan, must you make everything so difficult?"

She returned to the table, picked up the pen, and signed the document without reading it.

"There. Are you satisfied?"

Conan checked her signature, then slipped the agreement into his folder.

"Yes."

He picked up the backpack beside the couch.

He'd packed it the night before, intending to tell Rhea this morning that he was leaving. She hadn't even noticed.

Rhea was already examining Daven's finger.

"Where's the first-aid kit?" she asked.

"In the bathroom cabinet," Conan answered automatically.

Then he stopped himself.

He had been taking care of her and everything in this house for so long that even now, on his way out, he was still answering questions about where things were kept.

Conan walked to the door.

Behind him, Rhea said, "Let me know how your mother is."

He paused with his hand on the handle.

For one moment, he considered telling her again.

But the hospital had asked him to come immediately, and he'd already wasted enough time.

He opened the door and left.

***

Rhea found a bandage for Daven's finger.

The cut was barely visible, but she cleaned it carefully while he sat beside her.

"I'm sorry about Conan," she said. "He's usually not like this."

Daven shook his head.

"Don't apologize. He's probably worried about his mother. I can understand that."

Rhea glanced toward the door.

Conan had taken his backpack.

She hadn't noticed him bringing it downstairs, and she couldn't remember seeing him carry that much luggage since they got married.

Her phone rang before she could think further. It was Luke, her assistant.

She declined the call, but he rang again. By the fourth attempt, she answered.

"What is it, Luke?"

"Ms. Voss, we have a serious problem at Sparkles Enterprises."

Rhea straightened. "Tell me."

"Our expansion has hit a bottleneck. We need substantial funding and access to a high-end overseas distribution network. Without both, several of our upcoming projects could stall."

"Then find a partner who can provide them."

"There's one company with the resources we need. Ashworth Diamond Group."

Rhea frowned.

"Ashworth Diamond Group?"

"Yes. They're the most powerful thriving conglomerate in Milan City. Their distribution channels cover Europe, North America, and Southeast Asia."

"I know who they are," Rhea interrupted. "I've tried approaching them before. Their president never appears in public."

"That's the problem. We can only reach their vice president, and he's refusing to discuss any new cooperation without approval from the person who actually controls the group."

"Then arrange a meeting with the president."

"We're trying. But nobody seems to know who he is. He stepped away from the business three years ago, and I just received word that he's returned."

"After three years?" Rhea repeated.

"Yes. According to our source, he's already resumed control of the group."

Rhea rubbed her forehead. "Who is this man? How can the head of a company that powerful remain so mysterious?"

"I don't know, Ms. Voss. His identity has never been publicly disclosed."

Rhea considered the situation.

Ashworth Diamond Group had everything Sparkles Enterprises lacked: capital, international connections, and access to the luxury markets she had spent years trying to enter.

If she could secure its cooperation, the company's expansion would be back on track.

"Listen carefully, Luke. I want a meeting with that president. Use every contact we have."

"Even if we manage to reach him, his conditions may be difficult."

"That doesn't matter." Rhea's voice grew firm. "As long as he's willing to cooperate, he can name his price."

She ended the call, unaware that the man she was so desperate to meet had just walked out of her house with a backpack on his shoulder.