After the Divorce, the CEO Begged to Remarry Me

"Ah... baby, not so rough~"

"Hold me tight... let's come together."

Breathy moans mixed with low grunt-like groans spilled from the phone's speaker.

The cab driver couldn't help himself-he glanced in the rearview mirror at the stunning girl in the backseat. Awkward and half-joking, he said, "Young lady, I get that times have changed, but maybe leave those spicy videos for some private time at home with your guy, yeah?"

Carol Bennett slowly looked up. Her gorgeous features now carried a layer of frosty detachment.

She tilted her phone, revealing a clear live feed from a home surveillance camera. Her voice was as cold as ice. "That is my boyfriend. From my home security system."

The driver immediately shut up, giving her a silent, sympathetic look before snapping his eyes back to the road.

The sounds from the phone only seemed louder in the silence.

Carol lowered her head again, staring at the messy entanglement of bodies onscreen. Ryan Morgan-the guy who swore he loved her, who said they'd marry once her long-distance job ended-was now getting it on with another woman.

She clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms, the sting barely grounding her from the nausea and hurt twisting in her gut.

No tears. No dramatic breakdown. Just a subtle, steady chill settling in her eyes.

With practiced calm, she exited the video, opened her phone's editing app, trimmed the most damning few seconds, and uploaded it anonymously to a trending video site.

She gave it a clean, cutting title-"Riverton's Playboy: Ryan's At-Home Feature"-and hit send.

Done. She exhaled slowly, then dialed the contact labeled "Donald Bennett."

He answered almost immediately.

No greetings, no pleasantries. Her voice was cold, emotionless, firm enough to bruise.

"Fifty grand. Send it to my Venmo now. That marriage you mentioned? I'm in. After that, we go our separate ways."

There was a pause. Then a man's voice, thick with barely held excitement:

"Carol, you've finally come to your senses! I'll-"

She hung up before he wasted another word.

Within seconds, her phone chimed-"Venmo: $50,000 received."

The driver's hands visibly trembled, making the car jolt slightly. He glanced back again, this time like he couldn't quite believe the scene unfolding behind him.

Carol didn't acknowledge the look. She simply lifted her chin and said in an even tone, "Change of plans. Take me to the County Clerk's Office."

The driver dared not ask questions and quickly turned the wheel at the next intersection.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of a quiet government building.

It was early evening-well past closing time-but a sharply dressed man stood waiting at the side entrance, hands clasped, posture professional.

As soon as Carol stepped out, he approached with practiced ease.

"Ms. Bennett, hello. This is your and Mr. Ethan Mitchell's marriage certificate, fully signed and processed. Please keep it safe."

He handed her a crisp white envelope-standard issue, but freshly sealed.

Carol paused for half a second. She had assumed the marriage was symbolic, just for show. But this? No in-person appearance, no ID checks, not even a signature?

That was something else.

Then again, this was the Mitchell family. The richest name in Riverton. With their level of influence? Forms, lines, and laws are just... suggestions.

Wouldn't be surprised if they could waive the divorce waiting period too.

She took the envelope, light in her hand but heavy in implication. Her fingers brushed the seal as she muttered, "Thanks."

"Of course, ma'am. Just doing my job." The man gave a small nod and left.

Almost the moment his back turned, Carol's phone lit up like a Christmas tree.

Caller ID: Ryan.

She answered without flinching, not even raising the phone to her ear.

On the other end, Ryan's voice exploded through the speaker.

"Carol! Did you leak that video?! Was it you?!

"My parents are freaking out! My boss called! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

A cold smile curled on Carol's lips. She waited for him to finish screaming before answering, voice like ice over broken glass.

"Yeah. You're welcome. I made you famous."

"You bitch! It was just a fling! The one I actually want to marry is YOU! And now you're trying to ruin me?!"

"Wow. Slow down." She laughed-a short, sharp thing. "I never signed up to share a dirty toy with some other woman."

She lifted the marriage envelope, held it up to the sky, even though he couldn't see it.

"Listen, Ryan. The last two years felt like I was feeding a stray mutt with a God complex. Let me make this clear: I broke up with you. Don't call. Don't text. Don't breathe in my direction. You're toxic, and I'm done."

"You damn-!" Ryan was in the middle of another rage burst when Carol hung up on him.

Smooth and final, she blocked his number.

Silence. Pure bliss.

She flagged down another cab and headed straight for the café where she and Sophia Collins often met.

Sophia was already there. The moment she spotted Carol, she waved enthusiastically. "Carol! Over here! How'd things go with your man?"

Sliding into the seat across from her, Carol ordered an iced Americano before calmly saying, "We broke up."

Sophia blinked, stunned for a second, then clapped with a mix of joy and relief. "Good riddance!"

"I always said Ryan was trash! That dude's a pampered rich brat with a brain the size of a peanut. Every time I saw him with you, he looked like some hormone-crazed pig, just trying to drag you to bed! Lucky you snapped out of it before his stupid face sucked your soul out."

Carol rubbed her temples. She used to think Ryan's looks weren't too bad-now just thinking about him made her skin crawl.

She sipped her coffee. The chill of it ran down her throat and brought a wave of clarity.

"But there's more." She set the cup down.

Sophia caught the calm in her tone and raised a brow. "What? Something bigger than ditching that loser?"

Carol looked up at her, eyes steady. "I got married."

"Pfft!" Sophia choked on her coffee and started coughing hard. "M-Married?! To who?! When?!"

"Just now. To the only son of the Mitchell family. Riverton's richest."

Sophia's eyes nearly popped out of her head, voice shooting up several octaves. "Ethan Mitchell?! The guy everyone says is terminally ill, dumped by his ex, turned into some cold-blooded psycho who scared off eight fiancées? THAT Ethan?!"

Carol frowned. "...Is it really that dramatic? Though, I gotta admit, the name Ethan does ring a bell."

"He's literally Riverton's business Grim Reaper, always popping up in finance news. Of course he sounds familiar!"

Sophia grabbed her wrist, clearly freaking out. "Stop, don't change the subject! How could you agree to marry him?! The doctors said he's got, what, two months left tops? Babe, even if you're hellbent on being a widow, this is way too reckless!"

Something clicked in Sophia's head and before Carol could respond, she turned pale, rolling up her sleeves like she was ready to throw down. "Don't tell me it was your dad and that awful stepmom of yours who made you do it? I'm going to have a little 'chat' with them!"

Carol quickly stopped her hot-headed bestie, gently shaking her head. "No one forced me. I said yes on my own."

She paused, her tone unusually calm, like it wasn't her life they were talking about. "Honestly, yeah, I was kinda impulsive when I found out Ryan cheated. But thinking about it now... it's not the worst outcome. Becoming a widow in the Mitchell family beats being stuck with a scumbag any day."

"You think being the rich widow of some elite family is that simple?" Sophia was practically pacing now, angry and anxious at once. "They're obviously marrying him off now just so he can leave an heir! Once you're in, there's no way out!"

Carol let out a chuckle, her grin looking carefree-too carefree. "What's so hard about it? I'll just steer clear of him. Two months in hiding, wait till he's gone, then boom-freedom."

Before she could finish her thought, two large men in black suits had silently appeared by their table. The one in front wore a poker face, his voice respectful but firm. "Ms. Bennett, please come with us. Mr. Mitchell would like to see you."

...

Carol got into the black Bentley, flanked by the two suited bodyguards as the car quietly sped toward the outskirts of Riverton. It eventually pulled up to an upscale, heavily guarded medical facility, surrounded by trees and silence.

She was led into a sleek, modern room that had a wide view and that distinct hospital-disinfectant smell hanging in the air.

The suited man knocked on the door. "Sir, Ms. Bennett has arrived."

"Let her in." A deep, slightly hoarse voice responded from inside. Though tinged with weakness, there was an undeniable air of authority.

Carol pushed the door open, her eyes immediately landing on the lounge chair by the window.

The man was half-reclining there, a light gray cashmere throw over him. One hand rested outside the blanket-long fingers, sharp knuckles, and a clean, elegant bone structure.

His skin was pale, like carved alabaster-strikingly beautiful, but cold, as if he might crack under a fingertip.

Yet that fragility didn't dull his good looks at all-in fact, it gave him a strange allure.

His features were sharp, with striking symmetry. High brow bones, a straight nose, strong jawline, and thin lips set into a hard line-his face looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine, the kind that made hearts race.

Even though his face was pale and his breathing uneven, he still carried a cold, distant vibe-as if he was some priceless artifact meant to be admired from afar, never touched.

Carol felt her heartbeat hitch for a second.

This man was way better looking than those trendy celeb guys.

The disgust that had been brewing ever since Ryan's betrayal actually eased a little just from seeing this face.

Ethan slowly looked up, his gaze falling on her with zero warmth-more like he was evaluating something he didn't really want. "I didn't agree to this marriage. It was arranged by my mother and your family."

His tone was quiet but firm, like he was talking business instead of his own life. "Tomorrow morning, Jack Thompson will take you to file for divorce. No strings attached."

The man in the suit, still by the door, nodded politely. "Yes, sir."

Carol blinked and took a couple of steps forward, her tone casual like chatting with an old friend, even carrying a hint of playfulness. "Honey, come on, why are we suddenly talking about divorce?"

The word "honey" instantly made Ethan frown, a flicker of clear disgust flashing in his eyes-like someone completely put off by something frivolous.

He glanced up at her, his gaze sharp enough to cut. "Ms. Bennett, do you always get this cosy with every guy you've never met before?"

He paused, voice going colder. "For a mere fifty grand, you'd throw away your pride. Was it worth it?"

Carol's heart skipped half a beat.

This whole deal had been arranged between his mom and her family, yet Ethan somehow knew she'd collected fifty thousand from the Bennetts.

That's what happens when you're rich-what most people spend years saving for, he just calls "a mere fifty grand." Rich people, huh.

Still, she kept smiling, looking all sincere and innocent. "Who said we haven't met? You saved my life-I truly wanted to marry you and grow old together. The money's just... icing on the cake."

"Saved your life?" Ethan gave a short, amused laugh, clearly not buying it. There was even the faintest smirk at the corner of his mouth. "Ms. Bennett, if you're going to make stuff up, at least try to be original. This kind of gold-digger move is ancient."

"You want to prove you're not after money? Fine. No need to divorce-" he gestured at Jack, who stepped forward holding a folder. Ethan's voice turned distant. "Sign this agreement. You'll waive any financial gain from this marriage. Even if I die, you won't see a dime."

"But if you choose to leave now, I'll hand you a blank check. You name the price."

He figured that'd be enough to unmask her real intentions.

Sure enough-

Carol nodded. "Sounds tempting."

"As long as you understand. Jack will-"

Before he could finish, Carol picked up the pen and scribbled her name at the bottom of the document without hesitating. Her writing was swift and clean.

Once done, she slid the paper across the table to him, her grin bright and breezy. "Told you, I'm doing this out of gratitude. The money's got nothing to do with it.

"I'm done signing, hubby. Your turn."

Ethan's frown deepened-his brow so tight it looked like it could crack a walnut.

He seriously couldn't figure this woman out.

Thought she was in it for the money? She gave up every perk that came with being his wife without blinking.

Thought maybe she was into him? He was dying, and she acted like that was no biggie.

He tried again to talk her out of it. "All of Riverton knows how sick I am. Being with me will only leave you with nothing but a widow title. Don't waste your time-"

But before he could finish, Carol cut him off, "Then you'd better hang in there. A psychic said I bring good luck to my man-maybe you won't die after all."

Ethan's tone turned icy. "Marriage takes two people. I don't even like you."

Carol just shrugged. "You're good-looking. That's enough for me."

She had a major thing for pretty faces. Honestly, with a face like Ethan's, she felt she could forgive anything.

Ethan looked even more disgusted. "Heard you just dumped your ex and ran straight into marriage with me. Your 'feelings' seem a bit cheap, Ms. Bennett."

Carol didn't even flinch. "I had poor taste. Cut my losses in time. Marrying you only proves you're the real match for me."

Ethan had officially lost his patience. His voice turned colder. "I'm not wasting any more time. Jack will take you to file the divorce paperwork tomorrow at 9 a.m."

Carol lied without batting an eye. "Might not happen. Your mom already called her lawyer. I'm just along for the ride at this point."

Ethan's handsome face instantly turned frigid.

He clearly didn't buy it. His eyes locked on Carol like he was trying to catch her slipping, but all he saw was calm composure.

"If you don't want a divorce, fine," he said coldly. "But this marriage stays under wraps. I'm not making it public, and you're not walking around pretending to be part of the Mitchell family.

"I don't think we need to see each other again either." He paused, then added with a warning edge, "Also, handle your own mess. Don't bring trouble to the Mitchells. I won't be your cleanup crew."

Carol nodded right away, smiling sweetly. "Sure, whatever you say."

Who said she didn't get a good deal out of this?

She got rid of a jerk and scored a ridiculously good-looking husband. That's a win in her book.

Ethan didn't want to see her again? Fine by her-less stress.

But she doubted Grace would let that slide.

Sure enough, the next morning her phone rang.

Grace's tone was gentle, but firm. "Carol, move into Ethan's villa."

Carol tried faint resistance. "Mrs. Mitchell, but Ethan might not-"

"I've already spoken to him. Jack will come pick you up soon."

So, Carol packed the essentials and hopped into the Bentley, heading toward Ethan's villa nestled on the hillside.

The decor was just like a private clinic-minimalist, icy tones, sharp lines. It looked expensive, massive even, but completely lifeless. Cold enough to send chills through her bones.

Ethan was at the dining table eating breakfast. He looked even paler than yesterday, but still sat straight, eating with that calm, aloof elegance only he could pull off.

When he saw Carol walk in, he let out a cold snort, eyes full of sarcastic amusement. "Wow, you really know how to get what you want. Went straight for my mom, huh?"

Carol had expected that reaction. She raised her hands helplessly. "You're blaming me? If even you can't say no to your mom, how was I supposed to?

"I swear, I'll keep to myself. I won't do anything crazy."

Though honestly-

What a waste, having this face around and not doing anything "crazy."

If Grace really wanted a grandkid, well, she wouldn't say no to that.

With genes like theirs? The baby would be a showstopper.

Too bad.

Almost like he'd read her mind, Ethan set down his fork and knife, shooting her a chilly look. "Crazy stuff? Keep dreaming."

"Ahem!" Carol cleared her throat, trying to change the subject. "So, where am I staying?"

Jack chimed in right on cue. "Ms. Bennett, the guest room's all ready. I'll show you."

The room was top quality, everything top-brand. Fresh sheets, even some well-fitted clothes in the closet.

But even with all that, it still felt cold. Like a luxe hotel suite-stylish but detached. Fancy, but soulless. No warmth whatsoever.

When Carol finished unpacking and walked out, Ethan was already gone.

Jack reminded her, "Mr. Mitchell doesn't like strangers at home. The helpers are all part-timers-clean up and leave. Hope you won't bring guests here either, Ms. Bennett."

Carol nodded obediently, silently thinking to herself: isn't she the biggest stranger here?

Since she was going to be living here for a while - maybe even become a widow - Carol figured she couldn't just let the place stay so gloomy. No way she was spending her days in this cold, lifeless house.

So, she took a day off from work and called her go-to interior team to give the villa a serious makeover.

By the end of the day, she'd been on her feet non-stop.

She swapped out the heavy dark curtains in the living room for light beige sheers to let the sunshine in, tossed some pastel pillows on the couch, and set fresh fruit and flowers on the coffee table. In the study, she replaced the blackout curtains with brighter ones and put a leafy pothos in the corner. Even the dining table got dressed up with a checkered tablecloth.

Looking at the refreshed space, Carol clapped her hands in satisfaction.

Now this felt a bit more like home.

Just as she finished arranging the last vase of flowers, the front door opened.

Ethan was back.

He walked into the living room, saw the changes, and instantly his face darkened. "What the hell is all this?"

Carol turned around, unfazed. "This place had bad vibes. Not great for your health. You've been sick so long, you need sunlight. Keeping the curtains shut all day just messes with your mood. I helped you fix that. No need to thank me."

Ethan's eyes flicked toward the cushions and fresh blooms, wary. "What are you trying to pull?"

Carol tilted her head, casually honest. "Nothing really. I just don't want you to drop dead too early."

Whatever lecture he was about to deliver got stuck in his throat. He stared at her, his expression suddenly hard to read.

Right then, the oven timer beeped - dinner was ready.

Carol walked toward the kitchen, throwing back, "I made extra food. Just homey stuff, nothing fancy like the meals Jack brings from those five-star joints. If you don't mind, you're welcome to join."

She thought he'd brush it off or ignore her completely. But when she came out carrying a dish, he was still standing there, silent.

His eyes scanned the room. He still looked stony-faced, but the sharp anger from earlier had dulled a bit.

Thinking maybe he still hated the changes, Carol added, "Sorry, occupational hazard. I'm a designer - it's kind of second nature. If you really can't stand it, I'll have someone undo it tomorrow."

Though in her head she was muttering, Don't be the guy who bites the hand that feeds you.

Ethan paused for a beat, then grumbled, "Busybody."

Carol shrugged like she didn't care.

She thought he'd head upstairs, but to her surprise, Ethan pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down.

Even Jack was caught off guard, his eyes going wide as he rushed over to quietly remind Carol of Ethan's long list of food restrictions - no onions, garlic, spicy stuff, this allergy, that sensitivity.

As Carol listened, it hit her - wait a second, she'd only made dinner for herself and maybe added enough for one more. Why did it now feel like she was cooking just for him?

Then she remembered – his mom had promised her a decent "widow's payout" even if she didn't get pregnant within two months.

Given Ethan's attitude, there was no chance he was gonna touch her. So, getting pregnant? That train had left the station.

In that case, setting an extra place at the table? Not a big deal.

She'd take that compensation money with a clear conscience.