Divorcing My CEO

Lira pov:

"Happy anniversary," I whispered to the woman in the mirror.

The words tasted like dust.

Outside, the city glittered, a thousand lights celebrating a thousand stories. Laughter spilled from rooftop bars. Couples leaned into each other under streetlamps. Somewhere, someone was being kissed like they mattered.

But not here, not tonight and not for me.

I adjusted the strap of my silk dress, the fabric cool against my skin. It was the color of midnight, elegant and expensive, just like everything else in this penthouse. My makeup was flawless. My hair was perfectly curled. I looked like a woman who had it all.

And I did. I had the fame, fortune and adoration.

Everything except the one thing I'd quietly, desperately wanted for the last 1,095 days.

My husband, Damian Blackwood.

The man whose last name I wore like a crown, even though he never treated me like a queen. I glanced at the clock on the marble mantelpiece, the time was 10:47 p.m. He's late again.

I knew the signs. The empty space beside me in the king-sized bed. The silence that wasn't peaceful, but suffocating. The way the air in this penthouse felt heavier every night he chose the office over me.

I slipped off my heels, letting them drop to the floor with a soft thud. The cold marble kissed my bare feet as I walked to the balcony.

Three years of smiles for the cameras, of holding his arm at galas, of pretending our marriage was the fairytale the tabloids painted it to be.

Three years of him not touching me. Not the way a husband touches a wife. No lingering hugs, goodnight kisses too.

Just polite nods. Businesslike conversations, and a distance so vast, I sometimes wondered if he even remembered I was alive.

I thought about the day we signed the contract. It wasn't a proposal. It was a merger. Two powerful families, two carefully curated images, one cold, calculated agreement.

I was twenty-one. He was twenty-eight. I was a rising star, he was a rising empire. Our fathers shook hands, and just like that, my life was no longer mine.

I told myself it was fine. That love wasn't necessary. That I could be happy with the security, the status, the beautiful cage.

I was lying.

Because somewhere between the first press conference and the third silent anniversary, I fell in love with him.

The man who, when he thought no one was looking, would stare out the window with an expression so lonely it broke my heart. The man who, despite his icy exterior, had once, tucked a blanket around me when I fell asleep on the couch during a movie marathon.

That tiny, almost imperceptible act of kindness was the crack in my armor. It was the moment I stopped pretending I didn't care.

And it was the moment I started drowning.

Because loving Damian Blackwood was like loving a ghost. He was there, physically, but he was like a wall emotionally.

I tried everything, I learned his favorite coffee order and had it waiting for him in the mornings. I redecorated the guest room into a home office he never used. I memorized the names of his favorite authors and left their books on his nightstand.

He never said thank you, he never noticed. Or if he did, he didn't care.

The door clicked open downstairs. My heart, that stupid, stubborn thing, gave a hopeful little leap.

I took a deep breath, smoothing my dress, pasting on the smile I reserved for red carpets and charity events. The one that didn't reach my eyes.

I walked back inside, just as he stepped into the living room.

Damian Blackwood was tall., impossibly handsome. He was the perfect man.

"You're back," I said lightly.

He didn't look at me. He tossed his keys onto the counter with a clatter and loosened his tie.

"Had a meeting," he said flatly.

"It's our anniversary," I reminded him softly, stepping closer.

He paused for a while "Right." he said

That was it. No "I'm sorry I'm late." No "Did you wait for me?" No "You look beautiful."

Just... Right.

We stood there, three feet apart, in a room the size of a small apartment.

I looked at him. At the sharp line of his jaw. The way his dark hair fell just so across his forehead. The intensity in his eyes that could command a boardroom but never seemed to focus on me.

He was a masterpiece. A cold, untouchable masterpiece.

And I was tired of being the ghost in his mansion. Tired of loving a man who looked through me, of pretending my heart wasn't slowly shattering, piece by piece, night after lonely night.

Something inside me snapped.

Not with a bang, but with a whisper.

A quiet, final surrender.

"I want a divorce, Damian."

The words hung in the air, it was sharp and clear.

He froze.

For the first time in three years, his eyes locked onto mine. Not a sweep, a look full of shock and confusion.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I'm tired," I said, the words flowing out of me. "Tired of pretending. Tired of being your wife on paper and a stranger in every other way. I don't want to do this anymore."

He took a step towards me, his jaw tightening. "We had a deal."

"Yes," I agreed, holding his gaze. "Three years. It's been three years, Damian. And in all that time, not once have you held me, kissed me, or ooked at me like I was anything more than... an obligation."

He didn't speak. Just stared at me, his expression unreadable, like he was regretting his past actions.

I didn't wait for him to find his words.

I walked past him, my shoulder brushing against his arm. It was the closest we'd been in months. I felt the heat of him, the solidness. It was almost painful.

"I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers," I said, my voice steady. "You'll have them by the end of the week."

And then I walked upstairs.

Alone, by choice.

For the first time in three years, I didn't cry myself to sleep.

I just... slept.

---

DAMIAN'S POV

She said it like she was ordering a cup of coffee.

Calm, clear and final.

"I want a divorce, Damian."

Three words, five syllables.

And my entire goddamn world tilted on its axis.

I didn't breath, I Just stood there, frozen, as she walked past me. The whisper of her silk dress against my slacks was the loudest sound in the universe.

She didn't look back.

I turned, slowly, watching her climb the stairs. Her spine was straight. Her head, held high. She moved like a queen leaving a throne she'd never wanted.

My chest felt hollow. Like someone had reached in and ripped something vital out.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

The contract was clear. Three years. Mutual respect, no emotional entanglements. A clean, businesslike arrangement.

She'd agreed. She'd signed.

So why did it feel like I'd just been handed a death sentence?

I poured myself a drink. The burn in my throat was nothing compared to the cold dread spreading through my chest.

I didn't love her.

Love was a weakness. A distraction. Something for poets and fools. I was Damian Blackwood. I built empires, I crushed competitors. I didn't... feel.

But as I sat there, staring at the amber liquid in my glass, a memory surfaced.

Her, curled up on that damn chaise by the window. Asleep. Looking so peaceful, so... vulnerable. I'd stood there for a full minute, just watching her. And then, like an idiot, I'd picked up the throw blanket and draped it over her.

Why?

I didn't know.

Maybe because the room was cold.

Maybe because... I didn't want her to be cold.

I slammed the glass down on the table, the sound echoing in the silent penthouse.

At 3 a.m., I was still awake.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling mindlessly. My thumb hovered over her Instagram.

I clicked, and there she was on set. Laughing radiantly. Her co-star, Leo Winters, had his arm slung casually around her shoulders. His smile was wide.

My grip tightened on the phone.

Jealousy?

The word slammed into me like a physical blow.

I hadn't felt jealous in... ever.

And now? It burned, hot and ugly, in my gut.

Because if I was jealous... what the hell did that make me?

A hypocrite, a coward.

A man who'd spent three years pushing away the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And for the first time in my life, I was terrified.

Terrified that she was really going to leave.

And even more terrified that she was right to go.

I stood up, the weight of my own emptiness pressing down on me.

This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

Lira Hart might think she was walking away, but I wasn't letting her go.

Not without a fight.

Lira Pov:

He didn't come after me.

I heard his footsteps pause at the bedroom door, and for one foolish second, my breath caught in hope.

But all he did was open the door... and say nothing.

Like always.

So I pretended to sleep.

Like always.

My eyes burned, but I refused to cry.

Tears never moved him. Silence never cracked him. I had spent three years hoping my patience would earn his affection.

Three years loving a man who didn't even look at me long enough to see it.

I thought my patience and silence would gradually earn his affection, and make him notice me. Seems it was just my wishful thinking.

I thought maybe, if I smiled enough, stayed quiet enough, didn't ask for anything...

He might choose me on his own.

He never did.

The next morning, I left before he woke up, if he even slept. I didn't care. I had a meeting with my director, a fitting for next week's gala, and an interview to prep for. Real life. My life.

For once, I didn't want to rush back to that house.

It never felt like home.

Just a high-end prison with marble floors and cold, perfect silence.

A lifeless house.

"Lira!" my assistant grinned when I walked into the studio lot. "The promo video from yesterday hit a million views already. And guess who's trending?"

I offered her a smile, but it didn't reach my eyes.

She didn't notice. "Lira Hart and Leo Winters, fans are obsessed. They're already shipping you. Poor thing you're already married."

Leo. My co-star. Tall, golden, charming in a way Damian had never been. He made it easy to smile on camera. Sometimes, off-camera too.

He was everything Damian wasn't.

He has a way with his words, he is attentive and observant. He had everything I wanted in Damian, but somehow, my heart never beat for him.

They say 'We accept the kind of love we think we deserve'. One thing I know for sure is, I don't deserve this unrequited love. I'm done waiting for someone who doesn't look my way.

I thought about how Damian hadn't said a word about the scene I filmed last week, the one where Leo's character kissed mine.

He just doesn't care.

Not even a flicker of reaction.

That night, I lay on the long velvet couch in the downstairs lounge, the one I used to curl up on while waiting for him to come home.

Now, I was there by choice.

Not because I was waiting.

But because I didn't want to share a bed with a man who made me feel invisible.

I am Lira Hart. The most award winning Actress. A public figure. Every man's dream girl. Influencial, wealthy, and beautiful.

Every man would die to have me in their life. To be with me, to stay by my side, and for me to notice them. Except the one man I wanted. Funny.

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.

No footsteps. No conversations. No warmth. Just walls and distance.

And suddenly, the house I'd always be happy to be in, is now one I want to get out of quickly.

I used to think silence meant peace.

Now, it just meant we'd already stopped being anything at all.

I didn't hate Damian.

I wasn't sure I ever could.

But I was done waiting for him to see me.

Done holding my breath for a man who only looked at me when the cameras were watching.

This time, I'd be the one walking away.

And when I did...

I wouldn't look back.

(Flashback: Three years ago)

Lira pov:

The first time I realized I was falling for Damian Blackwood...

he didn't even look at me.

He was standing across the drawing room, one hand in his pocket, the other cradling a glass of scotch, his expression unreadable as my father spoke about the engagement.

He hadn't smiled.

He hadn't flinched.

He just stood there, composed and cold, while my future was being decided for me.

And I couldn't stop staring.

He was very handsome.

I thought marriage wouldn't be scary if it's him.

We'd met before, twice.

Once at a charity gala, where he'd nodded at me in passing.

Again, at a family gathering, where he'd shaken my hand and said, "Miss Hart."

That was it.

And yet, when my father announced the arrangement, something in my chest fluttered like it belonged to someone else.

An engagement.

To him.

To Damian Blackwood.

The man that I fell for at first sight.

I was twenty-one. An actress with a thousand dreams. He was twenty-eight, already a CEO with a jawline as sharp as his suits and a voice that could silence a room.

Damian was every girl's dream guy.

There are articles about him everyday. He was one of the richest, if not, the richest youngest CEO.

It wasn't supposed to be about love.

Our fathers were old friends, bound by business, legacy, and the illusion of loyalty.

The merger would solidify everything.

And I was the price.

I hadn't cried. Not then.

Instead, I watched him as he finally turned toward me, his gaze unreadable, as if I were a stranger being handed to him.

And still... I smiled.

Because I wanted him to want this.

I wanted to be chosen. Even if only for show.

The proposal happened three days later. In the Blackwood estate garden. At dusk.

There were no roses. No candles. No photographers.

Just a ring box he handed to me like it was a document to be signed.

"Do you have any objections?" he asked.

I could have said no.

I could have walked away.

But I looked at him, at his guarded eyes, the faint crease in his brow, the way his voice softened just slightly at the word objection. His eyes were crystal clear, like an ocean. I felt like I was drowning inside of it.

And something in me whispered:

He's not as cold as he looks. He just doesn't know how to be warm.

I thought I would be able to soften him. To make him smile. To change him. But I was wrong.

So I slipped the ring on my own finger, and said,

"No. I don't."

I told myself I'd learn to live with him.

I never expected to love him.

But the first time he walked beside me at our engagement party, press photographers shouting, lights flashing, his hand barely grazing my waist.

He looked at me.

Not long. Not soft.

But enough to make me wonder if there was something real buried beneath all that ice.

And that's all it took.

Just one look.

The grand wedding was everything they said it would be: perfect dresses, polished speeches, endless toasts. But beneath the glittering chandeliers, I felt like a stranger wearing someone else's skin.

He stood at the altar, all sharp lines and unreadable eyes. Damian Blackwood, my husband by name, but still a man I barely knew, and a man I already loved.

When the ceremony ended, I searched for his hand. For any sign that this, us, meant something more than a signature on paper.

He offered me a polite smile, cold and distant.

'Maybe he's shy or has social anxiety' I had thought.

That night, in the expansive master bedroom of the Blackwood mansion, I waited.

And waited.

Hoping he'd reach out.

Hoping he'd want me.

Hoping this could be more than just a contract.

The bed was huge, too big for two people who didn't belong together.

He climbed in late, barely acknowledging my presence.

His back faced me.

The silence between us was thick, suffocating.

Maybe if I fell asleep first, he'd feel less awkward.

But sleep wouldn't come.

I lay there, my heart pounding louder than the ticking clock.

I wanted to ask why.

Why had our families forced us into this?

Why did he refuse to look at me?

Why did I still believe that someday he might love me.

When morning came, Damian was already dressed, gone before the sun fully rose.

I was alone.

Not just in the room, but in the marriage.

And I realized then: I wasn't the bride of a love story.

I was the pawn in a game neither of us wanted to play.

That was when I realised, this was all for show.

But even so, I whispered into the empty room,

I will make you see me. One day.

(Flashback) Three years ago.

Damian Pov:

The deal was simple. Marry Lia Hart. Strengthen the alliance between our families. Secure my position.

Feelings weren't part of the equation.

I'd been raised to control, to conquer, to never show weakness.

Love was a distraction. An unnecessary risk.

When my father sat me down that evening, the contract between our families already drafted, I didn't hesitate.

I told myself it was business. Nothing more.

Meeting Lia was... different.

She was quiet, polite, and had a fire in her eyes that refused to be dimmed. She wanted me to see her, not the CEO or the Blackwood heir, but the man behind the mask.

I didn't know how to be that man.

The engagement felt like a chain wrapped around my wrist.

I wore the ring because I was expected to.

I treated Lia with the distance of a stranger because I was scared of what closeness might do.

The first night in our home, I turned away because I didn't know how to say what I really felt.

I was afraid that if I let her in, I'd lose control.

And losing control was the one thing I couldn't afford.

So I built walls.

Cold words. Silent nights.

Every stone laid was a shield-for her, and for me.

I thought if I kept her at arm's length, she'd eventually give up.

But I was wrong.

Because I didn't realize...

The walls I built were trapping me, too.

Sometimes, when I think back, I wonder if I was as blind to her as she was to me.

And if maybe... just maybe... I started falling for her long before I was ready to admit it.

(Present day)

I checked my time and it was 12pm. I called my secretary, James to come in.

"Sir, you called for me." He said as he came in.

"What is..... My wi.... I mean Lira doing?" Was I about to say my wife?

"She is on set for her new movie." James replied.

"Get the car ready."

I made a mistake in the past, and now I'm ready to correct it. I must get my wife back.

a.k.a: Mission to get my wife back.

As I came down from my car, I became the centre of attention. Everyone's eyes were on me, but my eyes were on my wife, who was stood with Mary, her assistant.

She looked very surprised to see me.

I had brought an expensive snack cart-artisan pastries, coffee, fruit platters. The crew loved it.. Lira's co-stars were swooning in.

"What's the meaning of this?" Lira asked when she came closer to me.

"Just thought I'd drop by and show support. Didn't want you starving." I smiled.

I could see the surprised look on her face. She looks more beautiful when she's surprised.

"Thank you, now go. I'm doing a shoot. Please." She commanded.

"Mr Corey?" I called out. Mr Corey was her director. "Do you mind if I stay for a while? I want to be with my wife."

"No. Of course not Sir. You can stay all you want." He replied, as everyone started smiling in awe. Some taking pictures of I and Lira, and some taking a video of us.

This would make the best headlines today.

I reached out and removed a little piece of leaf that had fallen on her hair, and everyone gasped.

Lira gave a little smile, it wasn't too obvious.

Whispers were everywhere about how loving I was, and how happy out relationship was. Lira stood surprised as she looked at me.

Then I saw him. Leo winters. The man that has been eyeing my wife like a midnight snack.

He walked over to the snack cart, and reached for a croissant.

"Wait." I told Leo, who was about to collect some snacks. "I have a something special for you" I said, as I brought out a pastry and handed it to him. He took it, and saw a note I'd written in it.

"For whoever that has been staring at my wife for the past two hours- eyes on your script looser" with a smiley face beside it.

Leo scoffed before taking a bite into the pastry and then coughs dramatically.

"Is there almond in this? I'm allergic to nuts!" Leo shouted.

Without missing a beat, I replied.

"Oh. Then you should definitely stay away from my wife."

There were laughters from the crew.

Everyone was laughing except Leo who was fuming in anger, and of course my wife, who glared at me like she was about to strangle me.

Before coming, I had researched on what Leo hated, and discovered he was allergic to nuts. Perfect plan.

"Let's move it. We're loosing the light." Mr Corey shouted, as everyone retired to their perspective positions.

I watched from a distance. Lira was so beautiful. She gives me butterfly just by looking at her.

Why did I take so long to notice her?

"Lights, camera, action." The director called, and the shoot began.

Lira acted with such professionalism that I haven't seen before. The way she speaks, acts, carries her body, and moves? God, she's perfect. I must make her love me again.

I sat beside the director as I watched them display their act.

Then lira and Leo started coming closer. They were so close that they could feel each others breath.

Then their lips were coming closer and closer. This can't happen.

I coughed so loudly that it disrupted the shoot.

"Someone get him a bottle of water" the director said.

I looked up at lira and she gave a sideway smile. She knew I was acting. She's smart.

Leo on the other hand was biting his lips out of anger and frustration.

You can't touch my wife when I'm here with her.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your shoot" I told the director and crew as I drank the water.

"It's okay. Let's continue. Action" he called.

Lira and Leo were coming closer again. I must do something.

I coughed again. This time, louder.

"Are you okay sir? Do you need to go to the hospital? " Mr Corey asked

"I'm fine." I coughed again

"We'll end her for today." Mr Corey said. "Mr Damian seems sick."

Everyone rounded up.

My plan worked.

Lira walked over to me angrily.

"What is this all about?"

"What are you talking about?" I raised a brow, feigning innocence.

She kept quiet before she spoke again.

"Our marriage is over. Once you sign the papers, everything would go back to normal. Why are you doing this now?"

I kept quiet. I wasn't sure of what to say.

Lira looked at me for a while without uttering a word.

Then she left.

Damn. I should have said something.

But what was I to say?

Lira Hart. I will make you fall for me.

This is a fight, and I'm fighting for you.