Beg For My Love Cold Hearted CEO Noreen Evans and Caiden Evans

When the clock struck eight, shadows thickened across the streets, and the cold crept in with relentless bite.

Noreen Evans sat alone at the dining table, idly scrolling through her phone. The untouched dishes in front of her had gone stone cold, their glossy surfaces dulled and uninviting.

Greta Johnson, the housekeeper, approached with quiet caution. "Mrs. Evans," she called out. "Today's your wedding anniversary. I'm sure Mr. Evans will be home tonight. He's probably just caught up with something. Let me warm the food for you."

Noreen gave a faint shake of her head. "Don't bother. He's already had dinner somewhere else."

The bluntness of her reply made Greta falter for a moment before understanding flickered in her eyes.

In three years of marriage, Noreen and Caiden Evans had lived more like polite strangers than husband and wife. The sweetness of their first year had long faded, replaced by rare visits and colder silences.

Leaving the dining table behind, Noreen went upstairs and lay on the bed. Her phone buzzed relentlessly, and a flood of new messages filled a group chat.

Curious, she lightly tapped one open.

The photo that opened showed Caiden sprawled carelessly across a wide leather sofa. His collar hung open, exposing the clean line of his collarbones, and his sleeves were rolled carelessly to his elbows. The casual ease in his posture carried an almost dangerous kind of allure.

Even the tilt of his head and the heavy-lidded look spoke of lazy indulgence.

In the corner of the shot, a delicate hand extended toward him, a wineglass poised midair. The gesture was intimate, as if toasting him in private.

Noreen's breath caught when her gaze slid down to the wrist. The slender hand was unmistakably feminine, and the emerald bracelet it wore shimmered under the light—a piece she knew too well.

That heirloom had once been promised to her, an Evans family treasure. Now, it encircled another woman's wrist.

Her fingers tightened around the phone as a fresh message arrived. This time, it was a video.

She tapped it without hesitation.

A soft voice spilled out through the speaker—gentle, sweet, and tinged with a teasing lilt. "You came straight from the airport just to celebrate my birthday. Aren't you worried Noreen will be upset when she finds out? Why not invite her too?"

With a look of mild disdain, Caiden let a crooked smirk slip. "Aren't you worried she'll ruin the mood?"

Laughter rippled through the group. Someone snorted derisively, "She's never quite belonged with us anyway. It's probably best she doesn't come."

Another chimed in with a teasing lilt, "Caiden, when was the last time you even saw Noreen? You'd probably walk right past her without recognizing her on the street."

Caiden swirled the deep red wine in his glass, his tone light and detached. "See her? We're not exactly close enough to keep up."

A voice cut through the chatter. "Come on now, aren't you two a married couple?"

A low, derisive chuckle rumbled from Caiden, as if he couldn't believe the absurdity of what he'd just heard. "That marriage is like a bottle of spoiled wine—better tossed out."

Jessica Dale's soft voice followed, laced with a hint of apology. "Alright… then we won't invite her this time. I'll make it up to her next time."

Noreen lowered her phone, bitterness tightening somewhere deep inside her.

What a petty little stunt! They were all sitting together in a private room, yet they'd chosen to chat in the group thread—just to make sure she saw it.

Most of the people in that group were part of Caiden's social circle. Jessica was one of the few women there.

The only reason Noreen had even been added was that Jessica had pulled her in.

She hardly ever spoke in the chat, but every new update about Caiden landed in her feed anyway. Wherever he went, Jessica was never far behind.

Hours later, with the house steeped in silence, Noreen lay sprawled on her bed, idly twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

The cold metal leeched into her skin, sinking deeper, until the chill reached the softest part of her heart.

A weight settled in her chest, not quite pain, but heavy enough to make every breath drag.