Caleb held his phone, staring at Winona's newly posted stories. The photo of the divorce certificate was stark and glaring, while her airport selfie radiated a flamboyant freedom she could no longer hide. 

Most striking of all were the endless comments flooding in below. They resembled a silent yet raucous celebration, each one begging to be chosen. Men from all walks of life jostled for attention, as if bidding on a rare treasure.

He tried to look away. His Adam's apple bobbled, and his fingers gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned pale.

In the conference room, 500 company elites held their breath, waiting for him to make the final decision.

"Carry on," he said, a dry, strained quality in his tone that escaped his own notice. He grabbed the tablet nearest to him and began swiping through the project report. Yet, his eyes simply followed the words without absorbing a 

Caleb stayed silent for a long time, so long that Sigmund, on the other end of the line, cleared his throat nervously. "Mr. Solt?"

At last, Caleb spoke, his voice deep and resonant. "I got it. Find out which flight Winona is on and her destination in five minutes."

Sigmund moved quickly. Soon, he reported, "I found it. Ms. Nander bought a one-way ticket for the 3:00 pm flight to Smokebay, Frostia."

Frostia—the land famous for aurora borealis, glaciers, and freedom. Of course, that was exactly where she would go.

Caleb gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. After a pause, he instructed, "Contract the best local tour and security company in Frostia. Make sure she's… safe while she's there."

He hesitated, then added as if to justify the sudden command to himself, "That's… my one last responsibility as her ex-husband."

Yet the furrow in his brow and the shadow in his e

Caleb wore a perfectly tailored black suit. His stern expression amplified his commanding presence, and the entire conference room quickly fell silent. 

The meeting began with each department head reporting on project progress. Caleb sat at the head of the table, listening quietly.

Suddenly, his personal phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID—it was the villa's landline. He raised a hand to pause the reports and answered.

A panicked voice came through. "Bad news, Mr. Solt! Mrs. Solt, she… she burned down the entire villa!"

Caleb listened calmly, his brow unmoved. "It's fine. Let it burn. We'll just move to another villa."

He hung up and gestured for the meeting to continue.

Just as a key report was being discussed, a second call came in. This time, it was the head of a top auction house.

"Mr. Solt, sorry to bother you, but Ms. Nander has authorized us to publicly auction all the jewelry, accessories, and luxury bags you gifted her," the caller said respectfully, though hesitantly. "Considering the enormous value, we wanted to confirm with you if—"

Caleb's expression remained unchanged. "Let her do as she wishes."

He hung up again and signaled for the meeting to carry on.

Then came a third call. This time, it was Miranda. She cried out, "Caleb… Winona posted a diss statement about me online. More people are attacking me… What should I do?"

"What did she post?" His tone stayed calm. "Alright, easy. I'll check it out. Whatever it is, I'll handle it."

He hung up and opened Twitter. Sure enough, he saw Winona's latest post. It wasn't the clarification he had demanded, but a clear confirmation that Miranda had stolen her work.

"Let's congratulate Miranda Granger for stealing my photos and finally getting the clout she wanted!"

Caleb's gaze darkened as he read the words. He had expected rebellion from Winona, but not such a ruthless, straightforward strike. Still, it was within the bounds of what he had anticipated.

Just as he was about to instruct Dylan to handle the PR crisis, a fourth call came through. This one came from a close friend of his.

"Damn, Caleb! You're really letting a baddie like Winona go? If you're not taking her, I'm swooping in!"

Caleb's fingers tightened slightly around his phone. "What are you talking about?"

His friend sounded even more shocked. "You didn't know? Check her stories! She just posted!"

Caleb immediately ended the call and opened Instagram.

The first story was a photo of the divorce certificate. The second was a selfie of her at the airport lounge—sunglasses on, lips painted bold red, the massive flight info screens glowing behind her. 

The caption read, "Single and loving it! If you want to be my boyfriend, line up and apply."

The comment section on the stories had completely erupted. Young heirs, rising talents, and even some well-known male celebrities had all shot their shots.

"I'm first in line."

"Me, me, me!"

"Give me a chance, Ms. Nander."

"Sent my résumé via DM. Please respond!"

Caleb held his phone, staring at Winona's newly posted stories. The photo of the divorce certificate was stark and glaring, while her airport selfie radiated a flamboyant freedom she could no longer hide. 

Most striking of all were the endless comments flooding in below. They resembled a silent yet raucous celebration, each one begging to be chosen. Men from all walks of life jostled for attention, as if bidding on a rare treasure.

He tried to look away. His Adam's apple bobbled, and his fingers gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned pale.

In the conference room, 500 company elites held their breath, waiting for him to make the final decision.

"Carry on," he said, a dry, strained quality in his tone that escaped his own notice. He grabbed the tablet nearest to him and began swiping through the project report. Yet, his eyes simply followed the words without absorbing a single one. 

Winona's Instagram stories felt almost bewitching, pulling his mind back to them again

Chapter 11