THE DIVORCE GAMBIT From Dumped Wife to CEO's Forever novel Chapter 161

Who would ever believe it—the most powerful man in finance, head of the illustrious Sylvester family, Master Ninth himself, crouched alone in the bathroom, scrubbing bed sheets by hand?

If anyone from the outside world saw this, they'd never believe their eyes.

Thank goodness, though.

The guest room might lack a washing machine and detergent, but at least there was a dryer tucked in the corner.

Otherwise, things would have been a lot trickier to manage.

Once he'd finished washing the sheets, Gordon stood under an icy shower for half an hour before the heat pulsing through his body finally faded.

Downstairs, Beatrice was already seated at the dining table, enjoying her breakfast. She glanced at the clock on the wall, a faint frown creasing her features. "I could have sworn Gordon came home last night, didn't he?"

The butler stepped forward respectfully. "You're right, ma'am. Master Ninth came home last night."

"So where is he?" Beatrice's frown deepened. "At this hour, he's usually the first one down for breakfast."

But this morning, the living room was conspicuously empty.

She knew her son well. Gordon was nothing if not disciplined—never late, never one to shirk his routine. No matter how exhausted, he always rose before eight-thirty.

Yet now, it was nearly nine.

The butler smiled. "The housekeeper mentioned that Master Ninth wanted to sleep in a little today."

"Sleep in?" Beatrice arched an eyebrow. "He just recovered from being ill. Don't tell me he's feeling unwell again?"

Worry prickled at her. She set down her fork. "I'd better go check on him."

The butler followed her as she strode toward the elevator. As they reached the doors, they slid open—and Gordon stepped out.

Beatrice immediately reached for his hand. "Gordon, are you alright? You're not feeling sick again, are you?"

He looked perfectly composed, elegant and distant as ever—no one would ever guess he'd been scrubbing sheets at dawn.

"I'm fine," Gordon replied, glancing at her curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"If you're fine, why are you up so late?" she pressed.

The question made Gordon's mind flash back to last night's dream—he quickly pushed the chaotic images from his mind and looked at his mother. "I've just been tired lately, so I slept a bit longer. Really, it's nothing."

"Nothing?" Beatrice peered up at him, unconvinced. "If it's nothing, why are your cheeks flushed? Are you running a fever?"

She tried to reach up to feel his forehead, but at five-foot-four, she barely reached his shoulders. Frustrated, she slapped his arm lightly. "Honestly, what's the use of being so tall?"

After breakfast, as Gordon was heading out, Raven appeared, blocking his path.

"Gordy!"

He gave a small frown and strode right past her as though she were invisible.

Raven, unfazed by his cold shoulder, hurried to catch up. "Gordy, where are you off to? My car's broken down—could you give me a lift?"

"No." Gordon stopped abruptly, his tone icy. "Raven, sometimes you have to know your limits. I've made myself clear—please, keep your distance."

For a moment, Raven's eyes shone with unshed tears. She'd chased after Gordon for years, but his heart remained cold as stone.

Didn't everyone say that a woman pursuing a man was supposed to be easy?

Why didn't it work for her?

Still, she wasn't about to give up.

Gordon wasn't just cold to her—he was this way with every woman. He simply hadn't opened his heart yet. Once he did, he'd surely be moved by her persistence.

Watching Gordon's car disappear down the drive, Raven's resolve only grew stronger.