Chapter 13: Regrets

Marcus POV

I am such a bastard.

The thought tore through me as I drove my fist straight into the mirror the moment I returned home, fresh from the hospital after Liam had been discharged.

A part of it cracked and broke instantly shard flying around and a few piercing into my knuckles making it bleed but I didn't in care infact I barely felt the pain as I remained standing Infront of it chest heaving the other part which hadn't broken yet caught hold of my reflection and I froze.

The man staring back at me looked unfamiliar Wrecked. Broken. Almost worn out of life.

The suit I wore hung loosely on my frame, creased and lifeless. My beard was overgrown, my hair bushy and unkempt. My body, once solid and commanding, had grown lean in an unhealthy way.

 My face was lined deep with exhaustion, wrinkles etching all over enough to make me look twice my age. My eyes were dull, sunken speak of eyes that hadn't known real sleep in years.

I couldn't help but flinched at the sight.

How did I become this?

How did I, a man who once walked into rooms and bent the world to his presence, turn into this hollow shell?

The question echoed in my head, the the same question I had asked myself over and over again for years, even though I already knew the answer.

It was my fault every bit of it.

And I had brought this upon myself the day I destroyed my marriage with my own hands. The day I hurt the one woman I never should have hurt. A woman who stood by me through everything. Through my rise, my struggles, my failures. And how did I repay her?

I treated her like trash.

I discarded her as if she were nothing, all because she gained weight. A condition I now realized was normal for women who gave birth.

And when our child, the same child who changed her body, died, I didn't even console her. Instead, I brought another woman into our home. My ex bitch of a girlfriend

Vanessa.

The bitch who wrecked my life.

My jaw tightened as I cursed her silently wherever she was. May she never know peace.

There's always been this saying that goes like this 'You never 'll know the importance of what you have until you lose it'

Hell I never believed in that nonsense used to think it was bullshit. Not until I lost her.

Her.

Beverly Hamilton.

The memory slammed into me without warning.

That day—the day I had last seen her before she left and took a part of my life with her, without her knowing.

I clenched my fist hard as the memory slammer harder into me I could still remember it vividly that day at the foot of the stairs.

Where she laid there on the floor in the pool of her blood begging me eyes wide face pale and full of terror begging me to save her life as the blood ran freely down her head.

But what did I do?

Crack.

I slammed my fist into the mirror again. The remaining glass shattered, the sound sharp and violent, echoing through the room. The more I remembered, the more the urge to end everything clawed at me.

How could I have been so stupid and blind no scratch that how could I have been so cruel to the point I bite so hard at the finger that fed me?

Now that I think about it did Vanessa perhaps used some kind of voodoo or jinx on me caused what exactly did I see in her that made me cast Beverly aside?

The question swarmed freely in my head unfiltered and no matter how much I thought about it I knew I wasn't getting an answer to it.

And now, as if fate was mocking me, she was back.

But not as the woman she had been seven years ago. The image of her earlier today forced its way into my mind. The way she stood across from me, shoulders straight, chin lifted, eyes steady as she stated her conditions before agreeing to treat Liam. Her voice calm. Her expression unreadable. Not a single crack in her composure

I flinched.

She was beautiful now. Not just physically, but in a way that radiated strength. The weight I once despised was gone, and in its place stood a woman who looked powerful, confident, unbreathable.

And to top the list she was now a doctor.

A doctor.

My chest tightened at the irony.

This was the same woman who once relied on me for everything. The same woman whose sanitary pads, clothes, and daily needs came from my pocket. The same woman who used to look at me as if I were her whole world.

Now she looked like someone who could buy a skyscraper without blinking.

And then..there was the Lois V limited-edition diamond wristwatch I had noticed glinting on her wrist earlier or did I perhaps imagine it?

The Lois V piece was a watch only the rich and powerful could afford. A watch I would've needed to be the man I was seven years ago to even think about buying.

So...so how did she do it?

How did she becomes so strong and wealthy all of a sudden?

The questions came pouring relentlessly inside my head nagging at me but hell no matter how much I thought I couldn't come up with anything.

But more than all of that the part that struck me hard the part that twisted my insides so much it made me want to choke, was that after everything yes after everything I had done to her humiliated abandoned she still agreed to treat Liam.

My son. My very own flesh and blood.

Of course she could have walked away. Could've pretended he didn't exist once she realized he was my son. No one would have judged her because I very much deserve such treatment from her after what I did.

But then she didn't.

My heart clenched painfully in my chest and for a moment I fought hard to breathe.

I hated this.

Yes I hated every bit of this and I don't want it.

I don't want her kindness her compassion towards me It made the guilt unbearable and honestly I would have preferred it if she hated me. If she screamed. If she spat in my face. At least then I could beg for forgiveness knowing she would never grant it.

But this?

Seeing her still human after my cruelty felt like punishment.

It scratched at my conscience, a wound that would never heal. I didn't deserve her goodness. Not after what I had done.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I just want to die.

I roared as I punched the mirror again, ignoring the sharp pain as more glass bit into my skin. Blood splattered, tears blurring my vision as they streamed down my cheeks.

I didn't deserve any of this.

Pound.

Not her.

Pound.

Not her presence. Not her kindness.

I continued hitting even as the blood poured profusely now forming a pool on the floor.

“S sir?”

The door abruptly opened and I heard Nanny Marcy rushed in.

“Oh my goodness, sir!” she screamed, horror flooding her voice as her eyes took in the shattered glass and bloodied mirror.

However her presence did nothing to alter the moment as I just ignored her and kept hitting until I felt her arms unexpectedly wrap tightly around me from behind. Warm. Trembling.

“Please calm down, sir,” she cried. “You are going to hurt yourself.”

She pulled me away from the wall, her grip firm despite her shaking. We stumbled to the edge of the bed, and she sank down, bracing herself as she held me close. On any other day, I would have recoiled. I hated being touched.

But today, I found myself collapsing into her arms.

Small. Vulnerable.

She tore the hem of her blouse without hesitation, her fingers moving quickly as she wrapped the cloth around my bleeding hand, trying to stop the flow.

“Marcy,” I whispered, my voice hoarse as I lifted my head to look at her.

She was crying.

Real tears. Worry and pain etched into her face, her lips trembling as she focused on my wounds. I hated seeing that expression because of me.

“I don't deserve this,” I said weakly. “Your tears. Your care. Her kindness. I have been an asshole to everyone who loved me. I don't think I deserve to be loved again.”

“Shh,” she sniffed. “Please stop talking.”

I shook my head slowly.

“No. You need to know the truth. You need to know what kind of monster I am. Why you shouldn't be here caring for me. Why I should die.”

“And you think dying will solve anything, Sir Marcus?”

Her voice snapped through the room, sharp even through her tears. I flinched eyes widening slightly. She had never raised her voice at me before. It was forbidden.

But even then she didn't apologize. Instead, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and looked at me sternly. Her shoulder squared. Gaze steady.

Right now, she didn't look like the nanny that I employed but a mother about to scold her child.

“Fine,” she said firmly. “I get it something happened. Something bad enough to make you want to destroy yourself. I don't need to know what it is. But have you thought about what your actions would cause? Your life. Your company. Your family. And most importantly, your son.”

She tightened the cloth around my wrist, making me hiss softly.

“Liam is sick. He doesn't have his mother. And his father, the one person who should protect him, is behaving like this. What do you think will happen to him?”

That broke me.

My chest tightened, breath hitching as her words pulled me out of the dark fog swallowing my mind. My shoulder sagged the fight draining out of me immediately.

My son.

She was right heck I hadn't thought about him, thought about what my death would do to him thought about how it'd live his poor soul shattered.

Just what exactly was wrong with me?

I get it I was a bastard who deserved death but seriously at the expanse of my son's life?

“Daddy?”

As if on cue the small voice suddenly pierced the room.

I lifted my gaze immediately to the doorway.

And the sight I saw punched the breath out of me.

 Liam stood there, clutching the doorframe, watching me wide with frightened eyes. I noticed the way his lower lip trembled, as his eyes took in the ruins and bleeding me. His face grew paler, paler than I had ever seen even when he usually had his seizures.

And In that moment, everything inside me broke completely.