My CEO Ex: Let Me Go.-Chapter 40

I looked at Alexander and asked, "What do you want to eat?"

He gave me a faint smile and replied, "What do you want to eat?"

"What can you cook?" I asked softly.

"I can make anything," he said casually.

I thought for a moment and then said, "Then I’ll have the cream of cheese soup, with some corn, some ham, and a bit of chocolate."

"Okay, I’ll go get the ingredients," Alexander said, pulling out his phone and placing it on the table. "I’ll leave my phone here. Maggie will call soon, so please tell her the room number."

"Mm," I nodded.

As I watched him leave, a sudden wave of uncertainty washed over me. Would he agree to my request because he cared about me, even just a little? The thought barely crossed my mind before I quickly pushed it away. Vivienne, stop being so narcissistic. He doesn’t like you. We’re still getting divorced tomorrow.

Then, a pang of fear hit me. I was scared that if I didn’t seize this moment, I would never have the courage to bring it up again.

The phone on the table rang. I picked it up and saw an unknown caller ID with just a green dot. I answered, and a woman’s voice came through the speaker. "Alexander, have you eaten?"

"It’s me," I said.

"Vivienne?" Isabella’s voice held surprise. "Where’s Alexander?"

"He went out to buy groceries," I replied flatly.

"He went to buy groceries? Don’t you have a housekeeper?"

I couldn’t help but smile slightly, a strange sense of satisfaction rising within me. I said, almost teasing, "The housekeeper isn’t here, so he went to buy groceries to cook for me."

"Vivienne, you..." Isabella sounded furious, then sneered, "Don’t think that just because Alexander is cooking for you, you’ve won. You’re still getting divorced!"

"Is Miss Blackwood jealous? I suggest you calm down. I’m recording this conversation," I said calmly.

I wasn’t lying. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard Alexander take a call. His phone was always on automatic recording to avoid work-related mistakes or lost evidence.

"You—don’t get too smug!" Isabella snapped, then angrily hung up.

I stared at the phone, feeling a surge of satisfaction. It was truly refreshing.

A short while later, the phone rang again. It was Maggie, asking for the new room number. I gave it to her, and soon after, she arrived. She checked on me to make sure I was okay, and once reassured, she started organizing the things she had brought.

"Mrs. Hawthorne, have you eaten? Would you like me to go get something for you?" she asked kindly.

"No need. Alexander went to buy it," I answered.

"It’s almost eight. Did Mr. Hawthorne say if he’s staying at the hospital or coming back tonight?"

"No."

"Then you can ask him when he gets here."

Alexander returned, and Maggie went to take the things from his hands. She expected him to have bought pre-made food, but when she opened the packages, she found fresh ingredients instead. There were also some kitchen tools—knives, bowls, and seasonings.

"Mr. Hawthorne, what are all these for?" Maggie asked, confused.

"Vivienne wants to eat the meal I make," Alexander said.

Maggie quickly tried to talk him out of it. "Mr. Hawthorne, please don’t joke about this. Let me do it, you should rest and talk with Mrs. Hawthorne."

"I’ll do it. I can," Alexander insisted.

"But..." Maggie hesitated, then finally gave in.

Alexander skillfully prepared the ingredients, and soon enough, the soup and filet mignon were ready. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

He brought a bowl over and asked, "I made it, try it. How does it taste?"

Maggie took the bowl and said, "Mrs. Hawthorne, let me feed you."

I waved her off. "I can do it myself. Just put it on the table and hand me the spoon."

I scooped up a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and took a bite.

"Well?" Alexander’s gaze was fixed on me, a silent expectation in his eyes.

"Mm, it’s really good," I smiled, though my vision was a bit blurry. I did my best to give him a reassuring smile.

"I’m glad you like it."

"I never imagined Mr. Hawthorne would be so good at cooking. For his first time, it’s amazing! With a little more practice, he could become a top chef," Maggie remarked.

I gave a light laugh but didn’t say much more. Alexander fell silent.

...

After dinner, Maggie washed the dishes. It was already past nine. Maybe because of my injury, I was feeling a bit drained and decided to rest.

"Sir, you should head home now. Mrs. Hawthorne has me here, and you can come by tomorrow," Maggie said.

Alexander nodded. "Alright, I’ll come by tomorrow." He grabbed his coat from the sofa and got ready to leave.

Suddenly, I sat up and called out, "Wait."

He paused and looked at me. "Is there something else?"

"When you come tomorrow, don’t forget to bring the Divorce Settlement Agreement, and bring mine too."

He froze for a moment, his brow furrowing. "Vivienne, the divorce isn’t urgent. You should focus on healing first. You can’t even see properly, how are you going to fill out the form?"

I moved my lips. "I can’t see well, but you can read it to me."

It’s not like I’m completely blind.

"The Divorce Settlement Agreement has already been signed. What difference does it make if we wait a few days for your eyes to recover before getting the Divorce Decree? Are you in such a hurry to get divorced?"

My heart sank. "Just take it as if I am."

Alexander’s face suddenly turned serious, and anger seemed to rise from deep within him. He abruptly turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

Maggie watched him go and sighed. "Mrs. Vivienne, Mr. Hawthorne seems to be angry."

"Let him be. I don’t even know why he’s angry. Isn’t it exactly what he wanted for me to divorce him?" I replied coldly.

“Mrs. Vivienne, you didn’t come back this afternoon, and Mr. Hawthorne was really worried. When he heard about your accident, he rushed over immediately and even cooked for you. It’s clear he cares about you.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Maggie, do you honestly think someone would cook for the first time like that?”

I couldn’t help but think that Alexander was an exceptional actor. He almost fooled me again. Thankfully, I’d seen through him long ago. I knew he could never love me—everything was just part of the performance.

“M-mrs. Vivienne means...” Maggie looked at me, her expression full of confusion.

“He’s always been the one to cook, and he’s done it for his ex-girlfriend too. Last week, she was sick, and he stayed by her side at the hospital, day and night. Do you still think he’s good to me?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

So that’s what it was.

In the three years Maggie had been at the villa, she’d never once seen Mr. Hawthorne cook.