Chasing the Wife He couldn't Love: Ex-Husband's Regret

Damien didn't even notice I just got in until Jane pulled away from the kiss and smirked at me. It wasn't their first time doing this in our home, but even when we just laid Grandpa Walton to rest? Someone who loved us so much and even loved him more than the rest of his Grandsons.My stomach churned upset. He couldn't be more disgusting than this.And for the first time since we got married, I felt deeply disappointed in Damien—he could see it clearly in my eyes. I saw his gaze dropped a bit but he composed himself immediately. Then he walked up to me, his eyes dropping on my face. While I looked up at him, my heart hammered in my chest. This was the man I had loved my whole life but he never reciprocated or respected me for once. “Jane wants to stay here for some days.” his voice echoed and it felt as though he had just slashed through my heart with a blade. My fist tightened and my leg wobbled. I looked into his eyes, even though my whole being was shaking. “This is my ma

Tears brimmed in my eyes. I could never have thought Damien could hurt me to this extent. I was the one who was supposed to be under Damien like this—I was his wife. But I was never Damien’s priority. And the fact that he does it with her on our matrimonial bed, shows he never had even a fraction of feelings for me. I couldn’t help but feel the wave of sadness overwhelming my soul. Damien had done his worst. Since he had been shaming me and bringing Jane to our home to do a lot together under my nose, I’ve never seen him have s*x with her. And today, he broke something completely inside of me. He left my heart and soul shattered—the excruciating pain consuming my whole being. Then seconds later, it dawned on me. I meant absolutely nothing to Damien. He doesn't even consider me a human to think of a woman in his life. Then I realized, it was best for me to pick up my pieces now. And for some moment, I felt ease settled in my chest instead of those hard feelings I had earlier.

The sound of Damien’s laughter from the hallway sliced through me like a jagged blade. He was still on the phone with Jane. His voice was light, teasing, and full of a warmth he had never once offered me in five years.My hands shook as I pulled the zipper on my suitcase. It was done.I looked at the brown envelope sitting on the duvet. It looked so small, yet it held the weight of my entire failed life. Within those pages was the end of "Hazel and Damien."I wiped my face with the back of my hand. No more tears. I had cried enough for a lifetime. If I stayed, I would eventually vanish until there was nothing left of me but a shadow in this big, cold house.I pulled on a simple trench coat and grabbed the handle of my box. As I wheeled it toward the door, the bedroom door swung open.Damien walked in, tucking his phone into his pocket. He still had that lingering smile on his lips, the one meant for Jane. When his eyes landed on my suitcase, the smile vanished. His face turned into a

The room went cold. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it hurt. Arrest? Kidnapping? Damien was using the law to hunt me down like a criminal. He didn’t want me back because he loved me. He wanted to own me, and he wanted to control my child."I haven't kidnapped anyone!" I shouted, my voice trembling as I stood up. I shielded my pregnant belly with my arms. "This is my baby. And I didn't steal a cent. That money is my inheritance!"The police officer didn't look convinced. He stepped forward, reaching for his handcuffs. "Tell it to the judge, ma'am. We have a signed statement from Mr. Damien Reyes in California. He says you fled with company funds and his unborn heir."Before the officer could reach me, a shadow fell over the room. Bryan stepped in front of me. He looked like a mountain solid and immovable. His eyes were like ice, fixed on the officer."Take your hands off her," Bryan said. His voice was quiet, but it carried a terrifying power."Sir, don't interfere," the offi

The air in the stone cabin turned to ice. My heart stopped. I stared at the woman standing in the melted doorway. She had the same high cheekbones, the same arched eyebrows, and the same deep brown eyes I saw every morning in the mirror."Mom?" I whispered. The word felt like a lie in my mouth. "But... the crash. The fire. I saw the funeral."The woman stepped over the ash of the door. She moved with a cold grace that my mother never had. My mother was warm and smelled like vanilla; this woman smelled like expensive tobacco and gunpowder."Funerals are easy to fake when you have enough money, Hazel," she said. Her voice was sharp, like a razor blade. "The Syndicate needed a leader they could trust. Your father was too weak to do what was necessary. So, I made a choice."