THE DIVORCE GAMBIT From Dumped Wife to CEO's Forever novel Chapter 7

Moonlight spilled in through the window, casting a faint silver glow across Gordon's sharp profile.

His lips pressed into a thin, unwavering line. There was a force about him—unyielding, commanding—so intense that even the air felt heavy, and the atmosphere in the room seemed to constrict around him.

Skyler, his nephew by blood, didn't dare say another word. Instinctively, he lowered his head, his tone turning reverent. "Alright, Uncle," he said quickly. "I'll have someone look into it right away."

Skyler had always admired talented people, especially promising young men like Julian.

But if his uncle wanted an investigation, then so be it. The truth would stand up to scrutiny—he was sure of it. Julian wouldn't let him down.

Soon enough, Uncle Gordon would see for himself that he'd been overthinking everything. The thought of witnessing that moment, of seeing his uncle proven wrong for the first time, sent a jolt of excitement through Skyler.

For years, Gordon had stood above everyone else, untouchable and revered. No one had ever managed to challenge him, let alone prove him wrong. But Skyler was determined—he would be the first.

Hell yeah.

--

Meanwhile, Caitlin had returned to the home from her childhood memories.

The neighborhood was as ordinary as they came in Silverhaven—rows of modest apartment buildings, nothing fancy.

Ever since Fortune Kensington had taken her in, this was where they'd lived, renting a small flat on the eighth floor.

She took the elevator up and knocked on the door—three quick raps.

A minute passed before the door creaked open. Standing there was an elderly man in his early sixties, his face warm and kind. When he saw Caitlin on the doorstep, he froze, eyes wide with disbelief. "C-Catie? What are you doing here so late?"

Ever since she'd married into the Chandler family, Caitlin had started to change. She was embarrassed by her humble roots, by her grandfather's job as a janitor. She stopped acknowledging him in public, keeping her distance whenever anyone else was around.

But now, feeling her hand holding his, Fortune's eyes stung with unshed tears. "Of course, sweetheart, of course. Come in. I'll make you some noodles right away."

Since Caitlin's marriage, she'd barely visited—maybe three times in total. Fortune's coworkers used to gossip, calling Caitlin ungrateful, saying she'd turned her back on family.

Now, all Fortune wanted was to shout from the rooftops, to tell the whole building that his granddaughter had come home to see him.

Before heading to the kitchen, he reached over and flicked on the air conditioner in the living room.

It was a small gesture, but it touched Caitlin deeply. People of her grandfather's generation had always been frugal; even on sweltering summer nights, they'd rather sweat than spend money on electricity. But for their children and grandchildren, they'd give the world if they could.

Caitlin sank onto the sofa, taking in the familiar scene. The apartment was small—just two bedrooms, sparsely furnished—but every surface sparkled with care. By the door, a bright orange vest hung neatly on the coat rack: her grandfather's work uniform.