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Chapter 14: Damien’s Threat
Last Updated:
2025-12-31 21:16:05
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EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET (It's Too Late To Apologise) They Know I'm Here
"They know I'm here," I whispered. "They know exactly where I am." "Of course they do. It's all over the news." Calloway took the card back, studied it. "But this—this is a threat. A deliberate intimidation tactic." "It's working." Marcus appeared in the doorway, took one look at the flowers, and swore. "Where did those come from?" "Delivery. Signed by Damien and Natasha." Calloway pulled out his phone. "I'm calling security. No more deliveries. No visitors except people on our approved list. And I want cameras reviewing footage of that girl—find out if she was paid to deliver this or if it went through normal channels." He stepped into the hallway to make calls. Marcus moved to my bedside. "Elena—" "They're working together," I said, my voice hollow. "Damien and Natasha. Planning something. And I'm stuck in this bed, useless, while they—
EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET (It's Too Late To Apologise) Premature Panic
The hospital was a blur of fluorescent lights and urgent voices. Calloway carried me through the emergency entrance despite my weak protests that I could walk. Security guards flanked us, keeping back the handful of photographers who'd somehow found us even at 3 AM. "Mrs. Sterling! Is the baby okay?" "Calloway! Statement on the allegations?" "Is this stress-related?" Their voices faded as automatic doors closed behind us. "I need a doctor!" Calloway's voice cut through the quiet ER. "My wife is pregnant—eight months—she's bleeding—" A nurse materialized instantly, wheelchair in hand. "How much bleeding?" "Not much," I managed, my voice shaking. "Just spotting. But the baby stopped moving and I can't—I can't feel her—" "Okay, let's get you into a room. Dr. Morrison's been call
EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET (It's Too Late To Apologise) The Baby!
Everything was brutal. Efficient. The kind of calculated attack that would shred Natasha's credibility in hours. But it also meant exposing everything. My past. Damien's abuse. The miscarriages. The gender reveal party. Everything I'd tried to leave behind. "Elena?" Calloway's voice was soft. "What do you think?" I looked at him. Really looked at him. This man who'd walked into my life at exactly the right moment. Who'd offered me safety when I had nothing. Who'd somehow become the father of my baby through the most impossible circumstances. Who was now about to lose everything because he'd protected me. "I think," I said slowly, "that I want to address the media myself." The room went silent. "Elena—" Calloway started.
EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET (It's Too Late To Apologise) Fighting Back
The estate security finally cleared the reporters from the driveway, threatening trespassing charges and police intervention. By the time our SUV pulled through the gate, my hands had stopped shaking, replaced by something harder. Rage. Calloway helped me out of the car, his hand steady on my lower back as we walked toward the massive stone mansion. It was beautiful—sprawling grounds, perfectly manicured gardens, the kind of wealth that whispered rather than shouted. Under different circumstances, I might have been impressed. Right now, I just needed walls between me and those cameras. "Mr. Sterling." A woman in her forties met us at the door, her expression professionally neutral despite the chaos we'd just escaped. "The security team has established a perimeter. No one gets within a half-mile of the property without authorization." "Good. Have—"
EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET (It's Too Late To Apologise) One Threat Down
I sat on the bed, holding Charlotte's car seat, listening to Calloway's muffled voice through the door. He was on the phone with Marcus. Then the police. Then what sounded like a private security company. Every sound made me jump. Every creak of the penthouse settling. Every distant siren. Every breath. Damien had been here. In our home. In our daughter's nursery. He could come back anytime. Charlotte slept peacefully in her car seat, completely unaware that a monster was circling us. The bedroom door handle turned. I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand, ready to throw it. "Elena, it's me." Calloway's voice. "I'm coming in." The door opened. He stepped inside, followed by Marcus and two men I didn't recognize—both massive, both armed, both scanning the room like they expected Damien to leap out of the closet. "These are your bodyguards," Calloway said, gesturing to the two men. "Former Secret Service. They'll be with you anytime you leave the penthouse. Non-negotiable."
EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET (It's Too Late To Apologise) Mother Knows Best
Victoria Sterling didn't move from the doorway. She just stood there, taking in the scene—Calloway and me, flushed and disheveled, standing too close in the kitchen at 4:30 in the morning. "Well," she said finally, her voice cool and measured. "This is interesting." Calloway straightened, his hand falling away from my face. "Mother, what are you doing here?" "I could ask you both the same question." She closed the door behind her with a soft click, then moved into the penthouse with the grace of someone who owned every room she entered. "Marcus called me about his father's... involvement in certain matters. I was concerned. Wanted to check on you both." "At 4:30 in the morning?" I asked, finding my voice. "I couldn't sleep." Victoria set her designer purse on the hall table, then turned to face us fully. Her sharp eyes missed nothing—our proximity, the half-eaten omelets on the counter, the way Calloway's hand had moved protectively toward me when she'd entered. "And clear
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