Semua Bab Too Late To Regret, My Hockey Star Ex-Husband: Bab 41 - Bab 50

Victoria Sterling's POV"And whether the Sterling family empire could survive a war between its own blood relatives."I smiled as I read the intercepted text message from Tyler Rodriguez to his security team. My cousin's boyfriend thought he was so clever with his investigation into my activities, but he had no idea that I had been monitoring his communications for weeks.The beauty of having spent two years building relationships with intelligence professionals in Europe was that I now had access to surveillance capabilities that rivaled government agencies. Tyler's security team was competent, but they were dealing with someone who had been planning this campaign far longer than they realized."Miss Sterling," said David Kim, my private investigator, "we've confirmed that Tyler Rodriguez and Ophelia are meeting tonight to discuss your activities. They know about your meetings with rival organizations.""Good," I said, settling back in my leather chair. "Let them panic. Panic leads t

Ophelia's POV"And maybe, someday, I could become the kind of person who deserved to have known someone like her."I was reading a surveillance report about Landon's activities at the community center when those words from his conversation with a fellow coach caught my attention. Even after everything that had happened between us, seeing him work with young athletes and finally understand the values I had tried to live by during our marriage stirred complicated emotions.But I didn't have time to dwell on my ex-husband's belated personal growth. The Sterling Foundation was experiencing unprecedented success, and that success was creating new challenges I hadn't anticipated."Miss Sterling," said Jennifer Walsh, entering my office with a stack of applications, "we've received over two thousand scholarship requests in the past month alone. Word about our programs is spreading faster than we anticipated."I looked at the applications, seeing names and faces of young athletes who needed t

Tyler Rodriguez's POV"Even if it was the last honest thing I ever did."I was reading Mary Hayes' heartfelt letter to Ophelia, which my security team had intercepted as part of our monitoring of threats against the Sterling family, when I felt a surge of protective anger. Even Landon's mother, who had contributed to the destruction of Ophelia's marriage, understood her worth better than some members of her own family.The irony wasn't lost on me that I was falling deeper in love with Ophelia every day while watching her navigate threats from every direction - criminals, rival business organizations, and now her own cousin Victoria. My feelings for her had evolved from admiration to something much more profound and complex."Mr. Rodriguez," said James Parker, my head of security, entering my office with a concerned expression, "we need to discuss the escalating surveillance of Miss Sterling."I looked up from the financial reports I had been reviewing for my own foundation, giving Jam

Rose Miller's POV"And the Sterling family war was about to become a federal case."I was sitting in the defendant's chair in Federal District Court, watching my entire life be dissected and destroyed by prosecutors who spoke about my crimes with clinical precision. The courtroom was packed with former patients, medical colleagues, and journalists who had come to witness the downfall of someone who had once been considered a rising star in neurosurgery."Dr. Miller," said prosecutor Janet Richardson, addressing the jury with the confidence of someone who held all the winning cards, "systematically stole credit from her colleagues, endangered her patients, and committed fraud for personal gain over a period of eight years."I looked at the faces of the jurors, seeing disgust and judgment in their expressions as they learned about the scope of my crimes. These twelve people would decide whether I spent the next twenty years in federal prison, and based on their reactions to the prosecut

Landon's POVThe letter I was writing to Ophelia was my forty-seventh attempt, and like all the others, it would probably never be read. But I kept writing anyway, driven by a desperate need to somehow communicate the depth of my remorse and the magnitude of my newfound understanding of what I had thrown away."Dear Ophelia," I wrote, my handwriting shaky from exhaustion and the cheap coffee that had become my primary sustenance, "I know I have no right to contact you, and I know you have every reason to never want to hear from me again. But I need you to know that I finally understand what you sacrificed for me, and I'm drowning in the guilt of how I repaid your love."I was sitting in the community center's break room at 2 AM, unable to sleep because my mind wouldn't stop cycling through memories of our marriage and everything I had missed or misunderstood. The medical records I had discovered months ago were spread across the table, along with newspaper articles about the Sterling