Divorce to Destiny: Reclaiming My CEO Husband

403 Opening Envelopes (Jayden)

The decoy flight was a well-choreographed illusion. Viktor boarded the Nexus Global jet, accompanied by someone who looked like me and a highly visible security detail.

The intention is simple: draw eyes, especially if Judy is watching. The whole operation was designed to mislead, to give me the cover I need to get out unnoticed.

Now I'm in a smaller charter jet, an aircraft that looks almost understated compared to the Nexus one. It's sleek, black, and inconspicuous, blending into the private airstrip with an anonymity that feels oddly comforting. Inside, the jet's interior is quiet, the hum of the engines a low and steady reassurance. I'm settled into one of the leather seats, my briefcase open next to me.

The documents from Nexus London are slowly going from the to-do to the done pile. I've read everything I needed to review. Investigation notes, financial statements, and transcripts of company phone and cell conversations.

I'm looking for anything that might hint at Grayson being set up. Now all I have left are the yellow

envelopes, which will have security pictures that might be of interest.

I get up to use the bathroom and stretch my legs. My muscles are stiff from sitting and working through endless paperwork, but I can't afford to slack off. The thought of being home, even if it's just for 24 hours, is a beacon in this pressure cooker.

It's what keeps me going, the reason I haven't crumbled under the pressure. I'm hoping to get everything here looked at and earmarked for further consideration before I land.

I really don't want to do any of this in the next twenty-four hours. Whatever I think needs further analysis, I'll tell Viktor about, and he can take a closer look with the investigations team.

I come out of the bathroom and do some stretches. The tightness in my neck and shoulders won't let up, but at least the movement helps a little. Then I sit and shift my attention back to the briefcase beside me.

I pull out the stack of envelopes and put them in my lap.

There should be enough time to get through these. Each envelope is dated, so I'll need to be sure I get it all back in the correct envelope again. So, one envelope at a time is the best way.

I stick my thumb under the flap and rip the first one open. A yawn takes me by surprise. I run my hands over my face, trying to shake the exhaustion. My thoughts drift to the kids, to Abby and Bobby and Sarah. They'll be excited to see me, even if it's only for a short while. I picture Henry's tiny face, his bright blue Brennan eyes. Winona, waiting for me, holding down the fort like she always does, even when things get tough.

I'm the luckiest man in the world.

But this is not getting the work done. I need to get the work done so I can relax when this plane lands. I pick up the phone that goes to the pilot.

"How long before we land?"

403 Opening Envelopes

"Forty-five minutes, Sir."

"Do you know if there's a car waiting for me to arrive?"

"Yes, Sir. There will be a car and a driver."

"Great. Thank you."

I hang up and refocus on the task at hand. Right, let's get this done. I'm running out of time.

I put my hand inside the envelope and slide out some images. The first is a blurry photo, a grainy security camera shot of someone walking out of a Nexus London meeting room.

The timestamp doesn't align with anything significant. Just another loose end. I sigh and jot a note to have Viktor cross-reference it later.

I slide those pictures back in and move to the next envelope. It contains a series of banking activities. A few flagged transactions catch my eye-amounts siphoned off in such a way that it screams inside job. Making another note, the pieces inch closer to forming a complete puzzle, but I'm not there yet.

With a heavy breath, I place the papers back in their envelope, stacking them neatly. The next one has better quality images, probably from higher-resolution cameras.

A meeting room shot again, this time showing Grayson himself, looking anxious. I frown. His body language suggests he's tense and expectant.

Was he suspect of a setup or simply feeling the guilt?

I put those photos aside and reach for the next envelope.

My fingers hesitate, but then I push through, determined to finish what I can. This isn't just paperwork. It's the future of Nexus London, the integrity of the company, and my ability to prove that I'm not just Gus's son but my own man.

I slide the photos from the last envelope. I expect to see more bullshit, some security footage related to the embezzlement scandal. But instead, I'm hit with something that knocks the air out of my lungs. Winona.

In a bar, unmistakably Winona, her head thrown back in laughter. Lance is right there beside her, leaning in too close, way too damn close. My chest tightens, an ache spreading through my ribcage.

I stare at the timestamp written on the envelope. It's accompanied by three letters.

HPW.

Fuck. Hall pass week.

No, I think, this can't be real. This is my mother, I know it is. That's why she was there, getting these to me.

I don't want to keep looking, but I can't stop myself. I flip to the next photo, and it feels like I'm being kicked in the gut over and over. Lance's arm is draped along the backrest of the booth, just behind her. Winona doesn't look uncomfortable. They look... friendly. Too friendly.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I come to the next image. Winona and Phillip. He's leaned in, his

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403 Opening Envelopes

expression too intent, too intimate. I feel the bile rise in my throat. Phillip, the snake, always waiting

I knew about him, I expected it. Did I think Winona would be with the man I'm most jealous of? No. But Lance? My best friend? The betrayal twists inside me, a sickening mix of disbelief and rage.

But these photos don't prove anything. Anyone drunk in a bar looks like this.

I know, deep down, I promised her I'd never hold hall pass week against her. I gave her that week. She needed it, and I was willing to give her what she needed.

But seeing it... seeing her with them-it's a different kind of pain, a primal, crushing agony.

My breath comes out ragged, the photos trembling in my grip.

I look at more and as they progress, I can see that there's no doubt left in my mind at all. The ones out of the club leave no doubt.

I'm regressing, I can feel it. Anger, raw and untamed, surges through me. Logic evaporates, leaving only the Neanderthal urge to smash those men, to reclaim what's mine, to make them pay for touching her.

To hate her for letting them touch what's mine. For enjoying it. Were they better than me?Does she want them more?

My jaw clenches so tight it hurts, and my vision blurs with a red haze.

404 Rage Unleashed