Ex-Wife Returns with Babies: The CEO Regrets Everything

Maria had just stepped into the office when someone came rushing over before she could even sit down.

This time, Maria recognized her-Grace Thompson, the same girl who'd handed her Charlie Cruz's file earlier.

Grace was quite young and also fairly new to Bennett Group. Ever since Tina assigned her to work with Charlie, she'd been on the edge. Charlie had a temper, never cooperated, and she didn't dare to snap back at him-so she had to beg, plead, and tiptoe around him every day like she was walking on eggshells.

When Tina told her someone else would take over Charlie's styling, Grace practically felt the handcuffs click open. Total relief.

Still, she wasn't heartless-passing the hot potato to someone else made her feel super guilty.

"Charlie has to go on stage in two hours, but he won't even sit still for makeup," she said, looking like she owed Maria big time.

"Take me there." Maria didn't hesitate. She grabbed her kit and strode out.

The moment she pushed open the door to the dressing room, she saw Charlie lounging on the chair, scrolling on his phone, a lollipop in his mouth. He looked more like he was ready to hit the beach than a live show.

"You're late. If he's not ready on time, think you can handle the fallout?!" Charlie's manager snapped the second Grace showed up. He got so fired up that he even looked like he might lay hands on her.

Grace just bowed her head and took it all, lips pressed tight.

Maria frowned and stepped forward, pulling Grace behind her. "From now on, I'm doing Charlie's styling. You've got any complaints, bring them to me. Don't take it out on her."

The manager froze. He probably wasn't used to stylists talking back.

"You-" He raised his voice again, but then caught the glint in Maria's eyes. That look wasn't playing. He blinked and suddenly backed off like someone had hit the mute button. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get started already!"

Maria gave Grace a comforting little pat on the head. "It's fine now. If you're free, mind handing me the stuff? I'm still figuring out where everything is."

The makeup was all in the kit, but every stylist liked to arrange things their own way. Maria hadn't had a chance to reorganize hers before getting thrown into the mix.

Grace nodded obediently and took the case like a trusty assistant.

Maria walked over to Charlie. As soon as she got close, a stick from his finished lollipop landed at her feet. A childish move if she'd ever seen one.

She just chuckled and ignored it. Pulling up a chair, she sat down. "Turn around. I need to get started."

Charlie didn't respond, still humming a tune.

"I said, turn," she repeated, clenching back the frustration rising in her chest.

Still nothing-he only switched to an even perkier song.

Even the manager couldn't take it anymore and leaned in, trying to coax him. "Come on, Charlie, you're going on soon. The fans are waiting. Can we not make a scene right now?"

Charlie shot him a look. "She had the nerve to boss me around."

Maria couldn't help but roll her eyes, just in time to get caught by the manager, who immediately barked, "Watch your attitude! What was that look just now? Apologize to Charlie Cruz!"

Maria slammed her hand on the table. "I'm here to do makeup, not babysit."

Only then did Charlie glance over, eyes dark and cold. He suddenly tossed his phone on the table. "Then I'm not going on stage. Just tell them the stylist lost it on me."

The manager stood there, clearly torn. He couldn't offend either side.

Maria wasn't new to working with celebrities, had done her fair share of big and small stars abroad, but Charlie? He was in a league of his own-for all the wrong reasons. Her brows furrowed slightly.

Clearly, he was used to pushing makeup artists around, playing the 'I've got fans, I'm the star here' card, probably relying on online drama and tantrums to get his way.

Well, tough luck, today he picked the wrong person to mess with. Maria wasn't someone he could steamroll.

Grace tugged softly at Maria's sleeve, whispering, "Maybe I should handle it. He really might not go out otherwise."

Maria shot her a quick look and shook her head calmly. "Don't stress it."

She plopped into the chair, eyeing Charlie who was back to staring at his phone, and said coolly, "Here's the deal: sit down and let me do your makeup, or just walk out. Your call."

Charlie snapped his head up, looking at her like she'd just grown a second head. Someone actually dared talk to him like that?

The manager's jaw dropped, eyes wide. "Do you even know who you're talking to? Are you out of your mind?"

Maria let out a low chuckle, sharp and calculated.

She pulled off her work badge and slapped it onto the table. Then turned calmly to ask, "What's the show he's supposed to be on?"

"The Late Night Scoop," Grace stammered, arms tightening around the makeup case like it was a life preserver.

The host ran a nightly show that was both a ratings magnet and a PR landmine. Her sharp wit and bold questions made celebs either shine or sweat. Getting on her show was no small feat. Charlie's manager had probably pulled every string to snag the spot.

Maria pulled out her phone, glanced at the manager, then fixed her eyes on Charlie, her voice icy. "I'll ask one last time-makeup or walk."

Charlie scoffed, visibly unimpressed.

The manager snapped, "You're the one who should walk!"

Maria casually typed as she spoke, then slowly recited a few names.

Each name she dropped made the color drain from their faces.

"Sound familiar?" Her tone was light but threatening. "Keep playing this game and I'll have no problem watching a new headline go viral. How about-'Top Star Charlie Cruz Blacklisted'?"

They froze, stunned.

Every name she had said belonged to some serious heavyweights in the industry-including the actual big boss behind The Late Night Scoop. These were people who stayed out of the public eye, almost invisible online. Only real insiders would know them.

Grace looked around, confused but catching enough to sense how real this was. She stared at Maria with newfound respect.