After the Divorce, the CEO Begged to Remarry Me

Ethan's handsome face instantly turned frigid.

He clearly didn't buy it. His eyes locked on Carol like he was trying to catch her slipping, but all he saw was calm composure.

"If you don't want a divorce, fine," he said coldly. "But this marriage stays under wraps. I'm not making it public, and you're not walking around pretending to be part of the Mitchell family.

"I don't think we need to see each other again either." He paused, then added with a warning edge, "Also, handle your own mess. Don't bring trouble to the Mitchells. I won't be your cleanup crew."

Carol nodded right away, smiling sweetly. "Sure, whatever you say."

Who said she didn't get a good deal out of this?

She got rid of a jerk and scored a ridiculously good-looking husband. That's a win in her book.

Ethan didn't want to see her again? Fine by her-less stress.

But she doubted Grace would let that slide.

Sure enough, the next morning her phone rang.

Grace's tone was gentle, but firm. "Carol, move into Ethan's villa."

Carol tried faint resistance. "Mrs. Mitchell, but Ethan might not-"

"I've already spoken to him. Jack will come pick you up soon."

So, Carol packed the essentials and hopped into the Bentley, heading toward Ethan's villa nestled on the hillside.

The decor was just like a private clinic-minimalist, icy tones, sharp lines. It looked expensive, massive even, but completely lifeless. Cold enough to send chills through her bones.

Ethan was at the dining table eating breakfast. He looked even paler than yesterday, but still sat straight, eating with that calm, aloof elegance only he could pull off.

When he saw Carol walk in, he let out a cold snort, eyes full of sarcastic amusement. "Wow, you really know how to get what you want. Went straight for my mom, huh?"

Carol had expected that reaction. She raised her hands helplessly. "You're blaming me? If even you can't say no to your mom, how was I supposed to?

"I swear, I'll keep to myself. I won't do anything crazy."

Though honestly-

What a waste, having this face around and not doing anything "crazy."

If Grace really wanted a grandkid, well, she wouldn't say no to that.

With genes like theirs? The baby would be a showstopper.

Too bad.

Almost like he'd read her mind, Ethan set down his fork and knife, shooting her a chilly look. "Crazy stuff? Keep dreaming."

"Ahem!" Carol cleared her throat, trying to change the subject. "So, where am I staying?"

Jack chimed in right on cue. "Ms. Bennett, the guest room's all ready. I'll show you."

The room was top quality, everything top-brand. Fresh sheets, even some well-fitted clothes in the closet.

But even with all that, it still felt cold. Like a luxe hotel suite-stylish but detached. Fancy, but soulless. No warmth whatsoever.

When Carol finished unpacking and walked out, Ethan was already gone.

Jack reminded her, "Mr. Mitchell doesn't like strangers at home. The helpers are all part-timers-clean up and leave. Hope you won't bring guests here either, Ms. Bennett."

Carol nodded obediently, silently thinking to herself: isn't she the biggest stranger here?

Since she was going to be living here for a while - maybe even become a widow - Carol figured she couldn't just let the place stay so gloomy. No way she was spending her days in this cold, lifeless house.

So, she took a day off from work and called her go-to interior team to give the villa a serious makeover.

By the end of the day, she'd been on her feet non-stop.

She swapped out the heavy dark curtains in the living room for light beige sheers to let the sunshine in, tossed some pastel pillows on the couch, and set fresh fruit and flowers on the coffee table. In the study, she replaced the blackout curtains with brighter ones and put a leafy pothos in the corner. Even the dining table got dressed up with a checkered tablecloth.

Looking at the refreshed space, Carol clapped her hands in satisfaction.

Now this felt a bit more like home.

Just as she finished arranging the last vase of flowers, the front door opened.

Ethan was back.

He walked into the living room, saw the changes, and instantly his face darkened. "What the hell is all this?"

Carol turned around, unfazed. "This place had bad vibes. Not great for your health. You've been sick so long, you need sunlight. Keeping the curtains shut all day just messes with your mood. I helped you fix that. No need to thank me."

Ethan's eyes flicked toward the cushions and fresh blooms, wary. "What are you trying to pull?"

Carol tilted her head, casually honest. "Nothing really. I just don't want you to drop dead too early."

Whatever lecture he was about to deliver got stuck in his throat. He stared at her, his expression suddenly hard to read.

Right then, the oven timer beeped - dinner was ready.

Carol walked toward the kitchen, throwing back, "I made extra food. Just homey stuff, nothing fancy like the meals Jack brings from those five-star joints. If you don't mind, you're welcome to join."

She thought he'd brush it off or ignore her completely. But when she came out carrying a dish, he was still standing there, silent.

His eyes scanned the room. He still looked stony-faced, but the sharp anger from earlier had dulled a bit.

Thinking maybe he still hated the changes, Carol added, "Sorry, occupational hazard. I'm a designer - it's kind of second nature. If you really can't stand it, I'll have someone undo it tomorrow."

Though in her head she was muttering, Don't be the guy who bites the hand that feeds you.

Ethan paused for a beat, then grumbled, "Busybody."

Carol shrugged like she didn't care.

She thought he'd head upstairs, but to her surprise, Ethan pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down.

Even Jack was caught off guard, his eyes going wide as he rushed over to quietly remind Carol of Ethan's long list of food restrictions - no onions, garlic, spicy stuff, this allergy, that sensitivity.

As Carol listened, it hit her - wait a second, she'd only made dinner for herself and maybe added enough for one more. Why did it now feel like she was cooking just for him?

Then she remembered – his mom had promised her a decent "widow's payout" even if she didn't get pregnant within two months.

Given Ethan's attitude, there was no chance he was gonna touch her. So, getting pregnant? That train had left the station.

In that case, setting an extra place at the table? Not a big deal.

She'd take that compensation money with a clear conscience.