Regret After Divorce

Scarlett’s POV“Miss Taylor, did you come alone? Why don’t you call your husband?”The doctor glanced at the report in her hand, then looked up at me with eyes full of pity.That look. That damn look.For the past few months, I’d had constant stomach pain. At first, I brushed it off, popping painkillers like candy to get through the day. I told myself it was probably just stress or diet—something temporary. But the pain had grown worse… unbearable. So, today, I finally dragged myself to the hospital.I thought I’d walk out with some prescriptions and rest orders.Not this.“I’m already divorced,” I said firmly, lifting my chin. “So just tell me the truth.”I had signed the divorce papers this morning. My hands had trembled slightly, but my resolve was steady. There was no point holding on to a marriage that had already withered. And even if I hadn’t signed them, Everett wouldn’t have come. He hadn’t shown up for me in months.The doctor hesitated. “Miss Taylor… based on the test resul

Scarlett’s POV“Madam, it’s done.”The stylist’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror.And froze.The woman staring back at me wasn’t the same Scarlett Taylor who walked into this salon an hour ago.Gone was the soft, obedient wife with dull eyes and a timid posture.This woman had sharp eyes lined with quiet fire. Her long hair had been chopped into a sleek, shoulder-length cut that framed her face like a crown. Her lips were a bold shade of red—confident, unapologetic. Even her expression had changed. Steady. Unyielding. Dignified.For a second, I didn’t recognize myself.And for the first time in years… I liked what I saw.“I look…” I whispered, touching the mirror lightly, “…free.”The stylist smiled. “You look powerful, Miss Taylor.”I nodded. “Thank you.”I paid the bill, left a generous tip, and walked outside. The afternoon sun kissed my face as a warm breeze played with the ends of my new hair. I stepped to the edge of the side

Scarlett’s POVI was already getting fed up. Sweat beaded at my temples, the sun blazing mercilessly over my head. I pulled out my phone, ready to call Davis and throw a fit, when the hum of a luxury engine drew my attention. A sleek Bentley Mulsanne cruised to a stop in front of me.I paused, squinting at the car.A Bentley Mulsanne. Rare. Discontinued. Half a million, easy. Only a handful existed in the city.Could it…?Sure enough, the back door opened.Everett stepped out like a scene from a movie—tall, composed, a trace of cool air trailing behind him. His tailored suit clung to his frame with obscene perfection, the faint scent of expensive cologne wafting in the breeze.He looked like a man untouched by the heat, the dust, or this world.My eyes locked onto his. His expression—calm, detached—never changed. Those deep-set eyes skimmed over me like I was nothing more than part of the scenery.I scoffed. “Tch.” Disgust rose in my throat like bile. I turned sharply and stormed towa

Amelia’s POV“Everett!”He looked up from his desk, his chiseled features as unreadable as ever.His eyes flicked to me, cold and distant, and he didn’t say a word.I walked over, trying to keep my tone soft and sweet. “Everett, Aunt Maria saw all those news articles online lately. She’s completely misunderstood the situation. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen. Now she’s even talking about picking a date for our wedding.” I laughed nervously, twisting the hem of my dress. “I couldn’t talk her down… so I came to you.”He leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow with a disinterested expression.“That’s all?” he asked, voice flat. “If that’s the issue, I’ll talk to her myself. No need for you to stress over it.”The cold response hit harder than I expected.My smile froze.That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Not at all.I steadied myself with a breath. “Actually… I also wanted to ask about all the buzz online. You have the power to shut those stories down easily, Everett. Wh

Scarlett’s POVAfter more than ten hours on a plane, I was completely drained. All I wanted was a hot shower and my bed.“Sorry, Ms. Taylor, I just got too excited,” Noah said as he rushed to open the back door of the car for me.I gave him a faint smile and slid into the back seat. Eleanor followed behind, and Noah began loading our luggage into the trunk.Once inside, Eleanor leaned toward me with a smirk. “Told you. Noah won’t be the last one acting like that.”I sighed and closed my eyes, muttering, “If Uncle Robart weren’t so close to my family, I wouldn’t even bother showing up.”Writing, for me, was about passion, not fame, not money. I didn’t need the world’s applause. And I certainly didn’t crave it.Noah finished buckling in, then turned around with a grin. “Alright then, Miss Taylor. I’ll take you to the hotel now.”“Thanks,” I said, then added, “And give me your books.”“Here you go!” he said quickly, handing over a hefty stack of novels.Eleanor took them from him before