The Ex-Husband's Endless Regret

I have no memory of stumbling out of the club. The neon lights and the bass of the music were just a sickening blur. Moments later, Vincent emerged, surrounded by his men. He didn't look back. He just slid into his Maybach and drove off into the night.

Wiping my tears away in a frantic daze, I threw myself into the first cab that stopped.

"Follow that Maybach up ahead." I ordered, my voice trembling but resolute. I needed to see his ex with my own eyes. I had to know the woman who had haunted his mind all the time and I could never defeat for six years.

Vincent pulled over nearby the terminal at the international airport. I threw a wad of cash at the driver and practically fell out of the car, hiding in the shadows behind a concrete pillar.

Vincent stood by the exit. A moment later, a woman in a white dress stepped out, dragging a suitcase behind her. Her silhouette was soft and delicate. But, I was astonished at the sight of her face as if lightning had struck me to the core.

She is Elara Borgia, my step-sister.

I could have accepted him falling for anyone, but why did it have to be Elara Borgia? I bit down on my lower lip so hard and tasted the metallic tang of blood, completely numb with the pain.

Falling into a trance, I saw Vincent had already taken Elara’s luggage. He pulled her against him, his arm wrapped around her waist as they walked toward the car. I just couldn’t accept it yet and flagged down another cab to keep following them.

Through the windshield, I could see Vincent turned his head and spoke to Elara, incredibly tender. He even reached out to tuck the stray hair behind her ear. That devoted care was something I had begged for but never received in our six years.

As I stared at his car ahead, my vision completely blurred by tears, an accident occurred at the intersection.

A deafening screech of tires tore through the street, followed instantly by the sickening crunch of metal on metal! The taxi I was in slammed into the back of Vincent’s Maybach. Before I could even brace herself, another car bumped into the rear with brutal force!

BANG!

The violent impact threw me forward. My forehead heavily smashed into the back of the front seat. A blinding agony erupted in my skull, and warm blood instantly poured down.

Amidst the chaos, I peered through the shattered window. The door of Vincent’s Maybach flew open. Vincent was out in a flash. He sprinted to the other side, pulling Elara into his arms with a gentleness reserved only for her.

He cradled her, scanning her body for injuries, his brow deeply furrowed in agonizing concern. Scooping Elara up, Vincent turned to leave the wreckage. But his gaze accidentally locked onto the taxi. Through the broken glass, he saw me, bleeding and trapped in the crushed backseat. For a second, I saw a flicker of clear shock in his emotionless eyes. But it vanished just as quickly.

Sensing his hesitation, Elara murmured softly against his chest, her hand resting on his lapel.

"Vincent, what’s up? Did you see anyone? I'm fine, it's just a scratch. If you have things to deal with, just go ahead… It seems that a taxi got hit really badly…"

A heavy silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Then, Vincent tore his eyes away.

"Nothing happened."

With those words, he held Elara tighter and walked away in to the night, not looking back once. Staring at his ruthless and disappearing figure, I wanted to laugh, but only tears mixed with blood slid down my face.

Over the past six years, I was nothing in his eyes. Trembling, I pulled out my phone and dialed her best friend, Vesper Corleone.

"Vesper… I'm leaving.” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. “Get my immigration papers ready."