All Chapters of My Ex-husband's Late Regret : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Elena's POV The door clicked shut behind me, but my hand stayed on the handle for a second. I stand there, staring at nothing, my smile slowly fading, just enough to let the truth breathe underneath it. Lucien turned me down. Wow, I can’t believe he did. I let out a quiet breath, straightening my posture before finally walking down the hallway like nothing had happened, like I hadn’t just thrown myself at a man who looked at me like I was nothing, not even nothing like I was something worse and irrelevant. My heels clicked against the marble floor, but my mind wasn’t nearly as composed as my steps. “I still love Aria.” His words echoed in my head. I scoffed under my breath, pressing the elevator button a little harder than needed. Of course he does. Of course he’d say it like that—like it’s sacred, like her name still lives somewhere inside his chest where no one else can reach. The elevator doors slid open and I stepped in, turning to face my reflection in the mirror. Two

Aria’s POV My lips parted, and a gasp escaped from my mouth the moment his lips closed around my erected right nipple, warmly, sending a slow, aching heat through my body. I gasped again softly, my fingers moving into his hair as I tried to steady myself. “Ethan…” His name slipped out of my lips. He hummed against my skin, the sound low, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. “Hm...yes, my queen?” He kissed my right nipple and moved to the next one, his hand roaming around my body roughly doing something dangerous to my heart. I exhaled shakily, my chest rising and falling unevenly. I could feel my blood rushing out from my vagina, which made me shift slightly, pressing my lips together. “Ethan…” I called again, softer this time. He paused immediately. That was one of the best qualities about him, no matter how lost he seemed in me, he always listened when my tone changed. His head lifted, his eyes staring deeply into my soul. “What is it?” he asked, his vo

Ethan’s POV I blink slowly, my lashes lowering and rising again like I’m buying myself a few extra seconds to think, to choose my words carefully, to not say the wrong thing. My throat feels tight and dry at the same time. Like something is stuck there and refuses to move. I clear it softly. “My mom will never make me choose someone else… I can tell you that.” The words come out convincingly, too convincingly. Aria smiles. And that smile hits me straight in the chest. She believes me. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t question it, didn't look deeper into my eyes to search for cracks. She just believes me. And that alone makes the guilt settle deeper inside me, heavier than it already was. Because the truth is I lied. I fucking lied. My hands moved, wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer into me. I need to feel her, I need to remind myself why I’m even doing this. Her body fits perfectly against mine as if it was made for me. And maybe that’s why I lied so easily. B

(Author’s POV) “If you still love your ex-wife, tell her to stay away from my man.” The line went dead immediately after, leaving nothing but a hollow silence on the other end. For some seconds, he remained still, the phone pressed to his ear even after the call had ended, as though his body hadn’t yet understood what had just happened. Slowly, he lowered it, his brows knitting together in confusion. Who the hell was that? At first, he had thought it was Aria—maybe calling from another number, maybe trying to play some strange game—but the voice didn’t carry her warmth, her softness. There was something else in it. Something colder. Possessive. Threatening. And then the meaning of the words truly sank in. Stay away from my man. His expression darkened instantly. It wasn’t just a random call. It wasn’t a mistake. It was a warning. And the worst part is that it was directed at Aria. His grip on the phone tightened as he dropped his hand, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Withou

(Aria’s POV) I stare at the dress draped over the mannequin, and the black colour fits very well. The fabric glimmers subtly, like it’s alive, like it’s breathing under the soft golden glow above. Tiny beads are stitched into it with surgical precision, scattered across the surface like fragments of a shattered night sky looking delicate and dangerous. My gaze trails down slowly. The silhouette is everything I imagined and more. It hugs every curve with a kind of quiet authority that's not desperate for attention, not loud but impossible to ignore. The structure is sharp yet fluid, sculpted to flatter, to command, to own the room without ever needing to raise its voice. The neckline dips just enough to flirt with danger, teasing the line between elegance and temptation. And those subtle floral textures whisper luxury, power and control. My fingers twitch slightly at my side. I'm proud to call it my design, my vision and my power. A slow breath slips past my lips as I ta