All Chapters of MY EX HUSBAND’S REGRET : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The next morning, I called Marcus.He picked up on the third ring, sounding like someone who had already been awake for hours. In the background I could hear the faint sound of keyboard clicks and what might have been a news channel playing somewhere in his apartment."Ivy," he said. "You're up early.""I need to talk to you. About the investigation. I think I have something."The keyboard sounds stopped. "I'm listening.""Not on the phone. Can we meet today?"Another pause, longer this time. "I have a thing at ten but I'm free after noon. Same coffee shop?""Somewhere different." I don't know why I said it, some instinct I couldn't fully explain. Maybe just not wanting to be somewhere Natalie already knew about. "There's a place called Henderson's on West Forty-Third. Do you know it?""I'll find it. One o'clock?""One o'clock. And Marcus?" I hesitated. "Don't tell Natalie we're meeting."The longest pause yet."Okay," he said carefully. "I won't."He didn't ask why. I appreciated tha

"We build a proper case. Carefully and quietly." He pulled out his notebook. "I need to dig deeper into her background, her finances, her digital footprint. I need to find out if she made any payments to anyone with AI capabilities around the time the photos would have been created. I need to find the source files if they exist anywhere.""How long will that take?""Depends on how careful she's been. If she's smart, and she clearly is, she would have covered her tracks. But everyone leaves something behind. A payment, an email, a search history, something." He looked at me steadily. "The text you received after your dinner with Adrian. That's important. Sending that message was emotional, impulsive. It was the kind of mistake someone makes when they're invested in the outcome personally. When it's not just professional sabotage but something they feel deeply.""She was watching us through a restaurant window," I said. "She sent me a photo of us and called me a whore. That's not just s

The word watching landed somewhere specific in my chest. "I need to think about it," I said. "That's fine. You have until Friday." He stepped back, hands in his pockets. Not pushing. Just waiting, the way he always waited. "Adrian." I said his name and then didn't immediately know what I wanted to follow it with. He waited. "Thank you," I said finally. "For being patient with me." "You don't have to thank me for that." "I do though. Most people aren't." He looked at me for a long moment, something moving in his expression that I was starting to learn the shape of even if I couldn't fully name it yet. "Goodnight Ivy," he said. "Goodnight." I went down into the subway and he stayed at the top of the stairs and I didn't look back because I knew if I did I would probably make some kind of decision I wasn't ready to make. Thursday arrived. Dinner with Natalie. I spent twenty minutes in front of my bathroom mirror beforehand giving myself a silent pep talk. You can do this. Yo

Friday afternoon couldn't come fast enough.By the time five o'clock arrived I had packed a small bag the night before, unpacked it twice because I didn't know what you brought for a weekend away with a man who wasn't quite your boyfriend but was definitely more than a friend, and finally repacked it with the decisive energy of someone who had bigger things to worry about than whether to bring the gray sweater or the navy one.I brought both.Adrian's car was waiting outside the Rhode building when I came down, same driver, same sleek black car that I was starting to recognize like an old acquaintance. He was already inside, jacket off, looking out the window at the Friday evening traffic with the particular stillness of someone who had learned to be patient with things they couldn't control.He looked up when I got in."You brought a big bag," he said."I didn't know what to pack.""Good thing the house has everything.""Then why did you tell me to pack?""Because telling you not to

The kitchen smelled like coffee and something sweet.Adrian was at the stove when I padded in barefoot, hair loose and probably embarrassing, wearing the gray sweater and the leggings I'd slept in because I hadn't wanted to take time to change when there was coffee involved.He heard me come in and looked n his shoulder."Morning," he said, like the word was something easy and familiar between us already."Morning." I went straight for the coffee maker, poured myself a mug, wrapped both hands around it. Took a sip and closed my eyes because it was exactly the right temperature and strength, and for one perfect moment my entire existence narrowed down to just that."I told you I'd bring my own coffee," I said."And yet here you are drinking mine.""I forgot.""You didn't forget."I opened my eyes. He was watching me with something quiet and amused in his expression, spatula in hand, completely at ease in this kitchen that wasn't even his in a way that made the whole scene feel disarmin