The CEO’s Regret: Begging Her Firefighter Ex-husband

Chapter 4

After settling into the base dormitory, Lucas began methodically undoing the life he had built with Claire over the last five years.

He split their joint accounts and transferred the household bills, vehicle registrations, and insurance policies entirely into her name.

For five years, Lucas had quietly managed every domestic detail so Claire could focus solely on running her company.

She had grown so accustomed to the seamless comfort that she had never realized how much labor it actually took.

The following afternoon, her sedan refused to start in the company parking lot.

Claire sat in the driver's seat, pressing the start button repeatedly, only to be met with a hollow, rhythmic clicking sound.

Her first instinct was completely automatic. She picked up her phone and dialed Lucas.

The call rang four times before he answered. "Hello?"

"Lucas, my car won't start," Claire said, her voice sharp and hurried. "The battery seems dead. Come down to the office and take a look."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

"I can't do that," Lucas said calmly.

Claire frowned, gripping the leather steering wheel. "What do you mean you can't? It's just a dead battery. It won't take you fifteen minutes."

"I'll send you a contact," Lucas replied.

Before Claire could speak, the line went dead, and a text popped up on her screen with the number of a nearby roadside repair service.

Claire stared at the screen in utter disbelief.

A surge of anger flared in her chest, and she redialed his number immediately.

The moment he picked up, her tone was biting. "Are you seriously playing games with me over a dead car battery, Lucas?"

"I am not playing games," Lucas answered evenly. "The service crew has the proper tools. They will be there in twenty minutes."

"You have handled my car for five years!" Claire snapped. "Why are you suddenly telling me to call a stranger?"

"Because I am no longer your husband, Claire."

Claire let out a cold, mocking scoff.

"Stop acting like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, Lucas. We aren't divorced. If you think moving into a rundown dorm and ignoring my calls is going to make me come running, you are delusional."

"The paperwork has already been submitted to the court," Lucas replied, his voice unbothered. "Since we are divorcing, it is better that you get used to handling your own life."

His total lack of emotion struck a raw nerve.

In the past, Lucas would argue, express hurt, or eventually yield to keep the peace.

Hearing him speak with this clinical, distant detachment made her feel like she was talking to an absolute stranger.

Her CEO pride surged to the surface, and she took the offensive to put him firmly in his place.

"Do you really think you can afford to push me around, Lucas?" Claire said, her voice turning cold and threatening. "You're a civil servant living off a rescue stipend. Who bought this luxury sedan? Who paid off your family's debts and funded this entire lifestyle?"

She leaned forward against the wheel, delivering her warning with corporate authority.

"Don't forget who holds the power in this marriage. If I withdraw my company's annual funding from your base's rescue charity, your director will have questions for you. Drop this childish attitude, swallow your pride, and come fix the car."

Lucas remained silent on the other end for two long seconds.

"Call the mechanic, Claire," Lucas said quietly.

Before she could unleash her fury, her phone vibrated against her ear with an incoming call.

The screen lit up with Julian's name.

"Hold on," Claire cut in automatically. "Julian is calling."

She switched lines without a second thought. "Julian? What happened?"

"Claire..." Julian's voice came through, trembling and choked with tears. "Leo got pushed on the playground at preschool. His forehead is bleeding... there's blood everywhere. I'm shaking so badly I can't hold my keys... can you please come?"

"I'm on my way right now," Claire said instantly, snatching her handbag from the passenger seat. "Don't panic, Julian. Stay by the nurse's office. I'll take a cab and meet you there in ten minutes."

She hung up and sprinted out of the parking garage, completely forgetting that Lucas was still holding on the other line.

In the past, whenever she switched lines to deal with work or Julian, Lucas would wait patiently on hold, keeping his phone pressed to his ear until she returned.

Sitting at the small desk in the dormitory, Lucas looked at the disconnected call for two seconds.

He didn't wait.

He slipped the phone into his pocket, gathered his tactical manuals, and walked out the door.

It was nearly eleven that night when Claire finally returned to the dark penthouse.

Julian and Leo had already fallen asleep in the guest room after a long, exhausting evening at the pediatric clinic.

The apartment was pitch black, quiet, and noticeably colder than it had ever been.

Claire kicked off her high heels in the foyer, tossing her coat onto the sofa.

Her head pounded with exhaustion, and the mechanic she had called earlier had charged her an outrageous emergency f*e just to jump-start the engine.

She sat down on the sofa, remembering the interrupted conversation from the afternoon, and pulled out her phone.

She had no intention of comforting him. In her mind, his defiance was nothing more than an insolent strike that needed to be swiftly crushed.

She typed out a message with cold authority:

Leo had a medical emergency at school today, which is what real responsibility looks like. That mechanic ripped me off because you refused to show up. You’ve had your little tantrum at the base, Lucas. Remember who built this household and who holds all the cards. Pack your bags and be back at the apartment tomorrow morning, or don’t expect me to welcome you back at all.

She hit send with a firm tap.

She tossed the phone onto the glass coffee table, fully expecting his panicked apology to light up the screen within minutes.

Ten minutes passed.

Then thirty minutes.

Then an entire hour.

The phone lay on the glass, completely dark and silent.

Claire picked it up, checking her connection, but there were no missed calls, no incoming texts, and no typing bubbles.

Midnight passed into the early morning hours, but the screen remained dead.

Sitting alone in the vast, echoing living room, a strange, suffocating chill crept into Claire's chest.

For five years, her authority had been absolute.

Now, staring at the black glass in her hand, she felt for the very first time that the man who had always stood behind her was no longer looking back.