My CEO Ex: Let Me Go.-Chapter 37

When I heard the word "cooking," I froze for a moment.

In my mind, I couldn’t connect Alexander with cooking.

"Vivienne, you don’t know this, but actually, Alexander is pretty good in the kitchen. When he was in college, he lived alone and became quite the cook. He would often cook for me," Isabella said, clearly trying to provoke me, her voice dripping with intent to hurt.

I knew exactly what she was doing, but it still stung.

If a man is willing to cook for the person he loves, it’s a clear sign of how much he cares.

But in our three years of marriage, Alexander had never once cooked for me. I didn’t even know he could cook.

I had heard that cooking could strengthen a couple’s bond, and even though we had a professional chef at home, I’d tried my hand at it sometimes, but Alexander never once helped me.

That’s the difference between love and indifference.

I pushed down the ache in my chest and said as calmly as I could, "Give the phone to Alexander. I need to ask him something."

"What’s it about? I can ask him for you," Isabella replied with a smirk. She knew we were still married, and yet I had to go through her just to speak to my husband. It was laughable.

Even though I was considering divorce, I couldn’t stand the way Isabella flaunted her power over me.

"Give the phone to Alexander! I need to ask him myself!" I demanded.

Before she could say anything, I added, "This phone has auto-recording. If you don’t want me to play the recording for Alexander, hand it over."

Isabella knew Alexander wouldn’t care about something like this, but she still wanted to keep up a good image in front of him. After a moment of reluctance, she grabbed Alexander’s phone and walked to the kitchen.

The call stayed active, and after a few seconds, I heard Isabella’s voice come through the speaker.

"Alexander, Vivienne called you."

"You hold it. I’m not available right now. What did she want?" Alexander’s voice sounded muffled, distant.

"I asked her, but she wouldn’t say."

I heard Alexander moving closer to the phone. "Vivienne, what’s going on?"

"Alexander, where’s my phone?"

"It’s with me."

"What are you doing with my phone?"

"My phone was left at the club, so I used yours to contact the people there and have them return it. I rushed out and accidentally took it with me."

Isabella lowered her head, her expression darkening. So Vivienne wouldn’t be able to see the Trending Topics now?

Alexander had taken my phone? Was it really an accident, or was it intentional? Did he not want me to see the news?

I finally put the pieces together. "Can you have someone bring my phone back to me now?"

Alexander shook his head. "I’m afraid not."

"Where are you now? I’ll send someone to pick it up."

"I’m at Isabella’s house. We’re about to head out soon."

"Then leave the phone at the door."

"It might get stolen if I leave it there."

"Then give the phone to the security at Isabella’s villa."

"The security staff is on leave today."

"Is that true?" I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.

"Of course, it’s true. What would I lie to you for?"

"Alright then, when will you be back?"

"I don’t know. We’ll see."

"You..." I took a deep breath, unable to hold back my frustration, and hung up.

"Forget it, no phone, no phone."

Maggie, ever cautious, asked, "Mrs. Hawthorne, would you like to use my phone instead?"

I shook my head, handing her phone back. "No need."

On the other end, Isabella returned the phone to the home screen, turned it off, and slipped it back into Alexander’s pocket. Her voice was soft, almost inquisitive. "Alexander, why did you lie?"

There was a password-protected mailbox at her house, and the security wasn’t on leave. Alexander clearly didn’t want me to get my phone.

He replied indifferently, "I didn’t want her to see the news and get upset. I’m trying to keep things calm, so it doesn’t affect you. If we can delay it, we will. Once the heat dies down, it won’t matter anymore."

Isabella’s eyes glinted with satisfaction. She spoke apologetically, "But this isn’t fair to Vivienne. Alexander, why don’t we help her clear things up? I don’t want it to keep going like this. I want to be with you openly, even if people criticize me. I don’t care."

Alexander furrowed his brow, clearly troubled. "Now’s not the right time. I still can’t fully control the public narrative. You’re a public figure now, and if we clarify things, it’ll affect your career."

Isabella felt a heaviness settle in her chest.

Was he doing this for her career, or did he simply not want to make it public?

"I just..."

"Isabella, you don’t need to worry about this. It’s my decision to keep things quiet. If Vivienne wants to blame anyone, it should be me. Just focus on your work, and I’ll handle the rest."

Isabella’s smile faltered, but she nodded, then hugged Alexander from behind, resting her face against his back. "Alexander, you’re so good to me."

"Alright, go wait outside. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Mm." Isabella left the kitchen, her steps light as she retreated.

Alexander stood still for a few moments, watching her leave before he turned back to the stove, continuing to cook.

He was lying.

He wasn’t worried about me clearing up the news. He was worried I’d be hurt after reading the comments online.

But for some reason, when Isabella asked him, he instinctively lied.

"Mrs. Hawthorne, are you going out?" Maggie’s voice broke my thoughts.

"Mm, today is the anniversary of my grandparents’ passing. I’m going to visit their graves," I said, forcing a smile as I left the living room.

My grandparents had originally lived in the countryside, but after more than a decade, their graves were moved to a cemetery on the outskirts of the city.

On my way there, I bought three bouquets of flowers, some wine, and a few other offerings.

My grandfather passed away when I was nine. Seventeen years had passed, and his image had become a blur in my memories, leaving only a few warm fragments.

At the cemetery, I placed the bouquets in front of my grandparents’ and father’s tombstones, then set the food and drink down in front of them as well.

I sat before my father’s gravestone, staring at the cold stone. Closing my eyes, my mind involuntarily drifted back to the car accident before my father passed away.

It had been ten years, but I still couldn’t forget it.

If my father hadn’t pushed me out of the way with his own body, I would have died with him that day.

As the years went on, I could slowly forget my grandparents, but I would never forget my father.

He had been the greatest father in the world.

After his divorce from my mother, he never remarried.

When I was younger, I didn’t understand why he refused to marry again, but as I grew older, I began to understand his reasoning.

He once told me, "People’s hearts are hidden. No one can know how a new wife might treat Vivienne. Besides, I’m busy. I don’t have the energy for another marriage."

My father, Maxwell Sinclair, was a journalist who often traveled for work, which is why he left me to be raised by my grandparents.

Back then, I didn’t understand him, but as I grew up and learned about his work, I finally realized why he was so insistent.

There were still reports about my father in newspapers from many years ago.

It was during one of his interviews that he met Chairman Hawthorne and became close friends, despite their age difference.