THE DIVORCE GAMBIT From Dumped Wife to CEO's Forever novel Chapter 186

After his shower, Gordon never usually bothered with Snow.

But tonight, something was different.

He was actually wandering around the house in his pajamas, looking for her.

"I'm not," Gordon protested when Beatrice caught him. "I was just asking."

"Just asking?" Beatrice arched an eyebrow, feeling a déjà vu she couldn't quite place. She held out her hand, showing off her freshly painted nails. "Gordon, look! Doesn't this color look good on me?"

"It looks good," Gordon nodded politely.

"Do I look eighteen?" Beatrice pressed, grinning.

How many?

Eighteen?!

Gordon's lips quirked. "You do."

She shot him a playful glare. "And if you flipped the digits, I'd look even more like it, right?"

Flipped digits? Eighty-one?

Before he could answer, Beatrice hurled a throw pillow at him, her voice indignant. "Do you seriously not know how to flatter a woman?"

Gordon just stared, silent.

Beatrice thrust her other hand toward him. "What about this color? Is this one pretty?"

"It looks good," he repeated, deadpan.

She rolled her eyes. "You are hopeless. Can't you say anything besides ‘it looks good'? Not a single word out of your mouth is what I want to hear!"

This old lady was impossible to please.

If he said she looked good, she complained. If he didn't, she complained anyway.

Gordon muttered, "My dad must have the patience of a saint."

Beatrice turned on him. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying I have a bad temper?" She jabbed a finger at him. "You, young man, are in desperate need of some discipline!"

Gordon's expression didn't change. "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

In this world, he was always the one in control—never the other way around.

Beatrice scoffed, dismissing him with a wave, and turned her attention back to carefully painting her nails.

After searching the house and still not finding Snow, Gordon gave up and headed upstairs to bed.

The past week's business trip had left him exhausted.

So it was no surprise that the moment his head touched the pillow, he fell straight into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He slept soundly, the kind of sleep that left even his dreams sweet.

The next morning, at exactly seven, Gordon woke up as usual. But as he moved to throw back the covers, something felt off.

He paused, staring at the sheets.

Why… why had he dreamed about her again?

And this time, she was even more alluring than before.

He didn't want to work there as the boss or manager this time.

You could only see the truth of a company from the ground up.

After all, property management was about serving the residents. If you could get the service right, the company would thrive.

Since his granddaughter trusted him, Fortune was determined to do the job right, so he wouldn't let her down.

Caitlin shook her head. "You specifically told me not to say anything, so of course I didn't."

"Good." Fortune looked relieved. "I'll head over after breakfast."

"Alright."

Once they finished eating, Fortune went to the property office.

Since he hadn't revealed his identity, everything was routine. He received his fluorescent green vest, grabbed a set of cleaning supplies, and headed out to collect the trash.

—

The next day passed in a blur.

The seventh was fast approaching—Caitlin's birthday was almost here.

At 11 p.m., Skyler texted Gordon on WhatsApp: [Uncle, tomorrow's Caitlin's birthday. Are you sure you're not going to get her a gift?]

Gordon sat in his Cullinan, a designer handbag and a full set of luxury lipsticks he'd brought back from overseas resting on the passenger seat, along with a bouquet of fresh flowers.

There was still an hour to go before midnight.

He picked up his phone, his face expressionless, and replied: [How many times do I have to say it? I don't spend money on women who aren't related to me.]