His Rejected Wife: The Billionaire’s Regret

Orana’s Point of View“I want a divorce.”For a second, I thought I had misheard him. My fingers tightened around the edge of the table, nails digging into the marble countertop. I knew one day this day would come. I always dreaded it, but today it was happening.“What?”Across from me, he didn’t sit. He never did when it came to things that mattered or something he considered beneath him.Callahan stood with his shoulder straight, hands in the pockets of his suit pants in a way that made him feel untouchable—something I once found to be hot, something that I always craved.His expression was cold, as though he were discussing a business deal and not ruining four years of my life.“I won’t repeat myself,” he said flatly.My chest tightened painfully.A week ago, I had been in a hospital bed, bleeding, breaking, losing what I thought was our child.And now this.“You’re divorcing me?” My voice came out softer than I intended, fragile in a way I hated.His eyes flicked to me briefly, th

Orana’s Point of ViewI knew Callahan hated people who didn’t keep time, and he said I had to meet him exactly at ten, which means I have less than two hours to eat, shower, and head to the other side of town with this traffic.By the time I was getting to his office, it was just fifteen minutes before ten o’clock.“Did you hear? Marissa Pearce is the new CMO,” someone said as they went into the elevator.“Well, it’s easy to get such a position if you’re fucking the boss,” Another one commented, and my insides churned.“I know, right. I just feel for the wife in all of this.” The blonde with the short hair commented while I stood there, in the very back.“I don’t. I hear she is the one who went to his father to plead with him to force Callahan to marry her. She deserves it,” the one with the long blonde hair retorted, no sympathy in her voice.I almost laughed at what she was saying. Because that’s not true, but I don’t bother correcting her. I have other things to worry about.“Still

Orana’s Point of View“Mama, you’re staring at me again.”I blinked, dragged back into the present by a small, sweet voice.My daughter stood in the middle of the room with her tiny hands planted on her hips, already dressed, already impatient. Her curls framed her face in soft chaos, and her green eyes.The same eyes that looked like his watched me with far too much awareness for a five-year-old.“I am not staring,” I said, forcing a lightness into my tone as I reached for her hairbrush. “I’m admiring.”She narrowed her eyes at me, unconvinced with what I was saying.“You always admire when you’re thinking too much.”I huffed out a quiet laugh despite the way I was feeling. “Is that so?”“Yes.” She nodded with eagerness.I knelt in front of her, gently turning her around so I could fix her hair. My fingers moved, parting, smoothing, braiding into two long braids. motions I had perfected over the years. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, catching on the soft strands as I w

Callahan’s Point of View“How many days has it been?”My voice cut through the silence of the room. My eyes swept over the lights of the city, the sound of vehicles and people buzzing below me.Two thousand thirty-seven days since Orana walked out of my office and disappeared as if she had never existed.At first, I hadn’t thought much of it. She had always been emotional. too soft and dramatic sometimes when she doesn’t get her way. I figured she would cool off and come crawling back like she always did; she loved me too much to just walk away.I also knew she had nowhere else to go. Her father would never take her back. Too much depended on this marriage for him to take her back.And she had no friends.I had even called her father days after she sent the divorce papers and left without a word. “Where is she?” I had asked, my tone clipped, already irritated by the inconvenience.But he didn’t even know. I tried her sister, who was her only friend, and she couldn’t tell me either. I

Orana’s Point of ViewMy fingers tightened slightly in Vaughn’s hand, but I didn’t turn right away. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready to give that moment or that power.For a second, everything else blurred, the music, the voices, the soft glow of chandeliers overhead. My gaze locked onto him like it had been trained to, like muscle memory refusing to fade. He looked the same. The kind of man who never lets anything slip.But his eyes weren’t calm; something dark flickered, they narrowed, staring hard at me.They moved over me slowly, deliberately, starting at my face before dragging down the length of my body. The black dress suddenly felt heavier under his gaze.His eyes drifted from me to where Vaughn’s hand rested against my bare back, and his other hand was holding my hand. For anyone else, it looked like we were a couple, but I knew better.His eyes traveled to Vaughn’s face, who was just holding my hand. He looked calm, but I saw something flicker in his eyes. Jealousy? Anger? I