Revenge After Divorce: Ex-Husband Regret

CHAPTER ONE

Cassandra's POV

The dull thud in my head was relentless as I groaned, dragging myself upright. My body felt foreign, like a puzzle with mismatched pieces. Even my throat felt dry and scratchy. I blinked against the early morning sunlight and tried to make sense of my surroundings. Instinctively, I reached out to the other side of the bed, expecting to find Nate, my boyfriend.

My hand met warm skin. But it was not Nate's.

I froze, my heart lurching in my chest. Slowly, I turned my head to see a man I didn’t recognize. His face was calm, peaceful even. But it was undeniable—he was devastatingly handsome. Messy and curly black hair framed sharp cheekbones, and his full, slightly dark lips were slightly parted in sleep.

Oh, fuck no!

I scrambled out of the bed, clutching the sheet to my chest as memories of the previous night came flooding back. The party. The drinks. Nate hadn’t been able to come, so I’d gone with friends. But... how had I ended up here? With him? What the fuck had happened last night?

Then suddenly the man stirred, and I stiffened in horror. All I could do was hold the bed cover to my chest and watch as he turned to where I stood.

His eyes fluttered open. They were a piercing gray, like shards of a storm cloud. For a moment, he looked at me with a small smile forming on his face. “Good morning,” he greeted, his voice deep and smooth.

Panic stole what little sense I had left. “I... I need to go.”

Without waiting for a response, I glanced around the room wildly for my clothes. In the passion of last night, I seemed to have flung them all over the place. Shirt was hanging from the back of a chair. Pants were squeezed into a corner of the room, behind the vanity mirror.

I rushed forward and grabbed my shirt and pants, throwing them on haphazardly. I couldn't find my panties nor my bra, but fuck those.

The man sat up, watching me. “You don’t remember what happened, do you?” he asked.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to know.

Fumbling with the doorknob, I managed to escape into the hallway, leaving him—and the shame of what I’d done—behind.

********

Two weeks later, the memory of that morning still haunted me. I avoided Nate’s calls and texts, because of the guilt eating at me. I convinced myself it was a one-time mistake. Something I’d bury and never think about again.

Today was no different. I walked through the halls of my college, trying to blend into the crowd. “Cassie!” My friend Lauren jogged up beside me, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Hey,” I mumbled, clutching my books tighter.

“Guess what? Professor Hart is gone.”

“Uh-huh.” I barely registered her words.

“And we’ve got a new History professor!”

“That’s great, Lauren,” I said absentmindedly as we entered the classroom.

“Look!” Lauren nudged me, pointing to the front of the room.

I followed her gaze.

My heart stopped.

It was him.

The stranger from that night. The man in my bed. My one-night stand was standing at the podium, addressing the class.

I couldn’t breathe. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as my mind raced to connect the dots. What was he doing here? How could this be happening?

“Cassandra?” His voice cut through my spiraling thoughts like a blade.

I blinked, realizing the room had gone silent, all eyes now on me.

“Is there a problem?” His gray eyes locked onto mine, and I felt like I was pinned in place.

“N-no,” I stammered, sinking lower in my seat.

He smirked, just like he had that morning. “Good. Pay attention.”

The hour dragged on. Every single second I spent in that class seemed to stretch into an eternity. I couldn’t focus on anything except him—his voice, his movements, the way he looked at me like he knew exactly what was running through my mind.

As soon as class ended, I gathered my things, ready to bolt out of that room.

“Cassandra!" his voice called out. "A minute?"

I stopped mid-step, my stomach twisting. Oh, fuck and a half!

“See me in my office, will you?" He snapped and strutted out of the class.

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, forcing a casual shrug.

But it wasn’t nothing.

********

I stood outside his office five minutes later, debating whether to run or face whatever this was. Before I could decide, his voice came from inside.

“You can come in, Cassandra.”

How did he know I was here?

My hands were trembling as I pushed the door open. The room smelled faintly of leather and something woodsy. I read the name tab on his desk: Professor Marcus. He was sitting behind a large desk, papers scattered in front of him. Same curly black hair that I remembered, tumbling around his face. Same chiseled jawline. Same beautiful, pale skin.

This man was nothing if not gorgeous.

“You’re late,” he grunted, not looking up from his papers. "I hate tardiness, Cassandra."

The way he called my name made me feel like a bar of chocolate, melting in the middle. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

“Close the door.”

The click of the latch felt final, like a trap sealing shut.

“I don’t bite,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. That smirk was back, teasing and infuriating me.

“Why am I here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "I just met you."

Instead of answering, Professor Marcus stood to his feet, slowly approaching me. His hands were dug into his pockets, which inadvertently made his biceps flex out. It was all I could do not to stare at them.

I swallowed against my parched throat as he reached me, leaving just a few inches between us. His hand suddenly reached out and tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, and his fingers brushed my cheek. Even that light touch sent tendrils of desire pulsing through my body.

As though my senses had returned in a flash, I shot backwards, breaking the connection. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Professor Marcus smirked. "Cassandra, can you not remember the night we shared two weeks ago? Don't act like you can't sense what's between us."

"Hell if I want it!" I snapped back.

He stared at me with an amused smirk. Then he turned back to his desk and retrieved an envelope from his drawer. He slid the envelope across the desk to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, hesitating before picking it up.

“Open it, Cassandra.”

The envelope paper felt heavy in my hands as I tore it open. Inside was something that looked like a contract, but the words blurred together as I tried to read them.

“What is this supposed to mean?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

I glared at him, my fear mixing with frustration. “If this is some kind of joke—”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” His tone was sharp now, making me startled.

I swallowed hard, clutching the contract tighter.

“Sign it,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“What if I don’t?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That wouldn’t be wise.”

The room felt suddenly colder. I wanted to demand answers, to walk out and never look back. But something in his gaze held me captive—a mixture of intrigue and danger that I couldn’t ignore.

“What happens if I sign?” I whispered.

His smirk widened. “Your life changes, Cassandra.”