All Chapters of The Goodbye he regretted : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

“Haha… Ethan, what’s the move here? Trying to drop into a split? Careful, man, you’re gonna tear something you actually need!” Charles clutched his stomach, his chest heaving as a deep, loud laugh echoed down the polished corridor. It was the kind of uninhibited, belly-deep laughter he hadn't experienced in months. Inside the high-stakes, pressure-cooker environment of the tactical intelligence headquarters where every word was weighed and every shadow watched, letting your guard down like this was a luxury that didn't exist. Being back with his brothers brought a rare, grounding relief. A few paces away, Michael leaned against the wall with his hands folded in front of him. He watched his two younger brothers bicker with a quiet, indulgent smile, looking less like an older sibling and more like a weary patriarch watching his boys roughhouse in the yard. For a brief second, the quiet halls of the estate melted away, replaced by the ghost of their childhood home—a time before secrets,

“I asked him not to contact you again, and I spoke quite harshly. I’m not sure how he’ll take it.” “Well done! I’m a goddess, so I won’t let ordinary people like him interact with me. I’m the woman of Ashford Group’s president!” “Right. You’re the only woman that every man in the Ashford family pampers.” Michael’s charming eyes arched as he smiled and patted his little sister’s shoulder. He looked at her dotingly. “Michael, give me your phone.” Maureen beckoned, holding out a hand without looking up from her desk. Michael brought the device and passed it over without hesitation. “The password is your birthday.” “I know.” Maureen tapped in the digits, tapped into the global address book, and permanently blacklisted Damien's primary line. “Good job.” Michael's mouth curved into a faint, satisfied line. “We must nip this in the bud. If we don’t, that bastard will push his luck.” Maureen’s eyes turned cold when she mentioned her ex-husband. The sheer mention of him was enough to fr

Damien remained motionless by the entrance pillar, his sharp jaw tight with mounting irritation. In his mind, he had provided Selene with everything a woman in her position could ever want. He hadn't loved her, sure, but he had given her the status of a top CEO's wife. She lived in a luxury manor, wore fine clothes, ate gourmet meals, and was waited on hand and foot by a full household staff. She didn't suffer a single day under his roof. He had even handed her an unrestricted supplementary credit card, never holding back a single cent. Even though she hadn't spent a dime on that card in three whole years, her life as his wife was still a thousand times better than her old job wiping down counters as a caregiver in a nursing home. So why was she standing there talking like she had been mistreated? Hearing her insinuate she was finally being "treated like a human being" burned right through his pride. His eyes narrowed, a reddish tint rising near his cheekbones as he clenched his teet

"Look—isn't that Mr. Vance?" a whispered voice gasped near the entrance, cutting through the heavy silence.Kylie turned around, her smug, arrogant composure instantly shattering into sheer panic. Her face drained of all color, and her voice caught in her throat. "D-Damien..."She was terrified of him. Everyone in the family was. Even if her mother, Diana, secretly sneered behind his back about his origins as an illegitimate child, no one dared to cross him in the open. Within the Vance clan, Damien's word was absolute law, and his authority was absolute."Lucas, get Kylie out of here immediately," Damien ordered. His tone was utterly flat, devoid of any warmth or emotion, yet it carried a weight that left no room for hesitation.Around the lobby, several guests had already slipped out their phones, covertly recording the escalating spectacle. If Kylie stayed a second longer and continued her unhinged rant, the Vance family’s prestige would be dragged through the mud on every financia

Damien accompanied Maureen to the infirmary. She set a bottle of iodine and a roll of gauze onto the counter. The doctor’s chair was empty, but she had no intention of waiting around for anyone. Blood still seeped slowly from the scrape across her palm, She had already rinsed it once under the cold tap; this would be enough. Damien reached over her shoulder, shutting the medicine cabinet with a quiet, decisive click. “I’ll do it,” He said. His shadow fell across the counter, long and solid, cutting off the light. Maureen yanked her arm back, eyes narrowing. “No need.” Before she could snatch the bandage, his fingers closed around her wrist. His grip was cool against her flushed skin—firm enough to stop her without bruising, practiced enough that she knew struggling would only look childish. “Selene, stay still,” he said, stepping in front of her so that the open cabinet was at his back and she had nowhere left to retreat. She bristled, the familiar flare of irritation rising