All Chapters of My Ex-Husband's Greatest Regret: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

RosemarieThe whole drive over, I couldn't sit still."He texted me nothing all day," I said, checking my phone for the fifth time. "No note from the teacher, no update, nothing.""That's a good sign, Rose," Tyson said, eyes on the road. "No news means nobody called the office.""Or it means something happened and they haven't gotten around to calling yet.""You're spiraling.""I'm a mother. It's allowed."He reached over without looking, pulling my hand off my phone and lacing his fingers through mine. "He's fine. I promise you.""You can't promise that.""I can promise I'll burn the place down if he's not," Tyson said, and despite myself, I laughed.The SUV rolled up to the Academy right as the three o'clock bell rang.I kept drumming my fingers against the dash. "Stop fidgeting, Rose," Tyson said, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "He's fine. The kid's got your spine.""He's seven, Tyson. First day at a school where every kid probably knows how to shoot a rifle by age five," I shot

Rosemarie Two months can change everything. Even the simple act of seeing my own shoelaces.I looked down at the oatmeal cashmere sweater I had on. It used to hang loose on my hips. Now it curved over a round little bump. Four months. Sixteen weeks. The nausea was finally gone, replaced by nonstop hunger and a belly that turned rolling over in bed into a full production."Director? Row nine. The transport permits for the northern basin need your signature before Friday."I blinked, pulled myself out of my own head, and looked across the table.Dan stood straight as a flagpole, holding a folder, while Clara, my new logistics aide, tapped away on a tablet. We'd set up in the eastern sunroom. The glass walls let in soft morning light, which was the only reason I hadn't gone insane staring at tax codes for three hours straight."Hold on, Dan," I muttered, leaning forward. "Flip back to page fourteen. The old survey from my father's land."Dan raised an eyebrow, glancing at Clara. "The 19

RosemarieThe house was quiet without Leo running down the halls.Martha had set up three mattresses in the west wing playroom, and between the pizza crusts, the game chatter, and four little boys arguing over who got to be the lead tank, our son was busy for the night. For the first time in weeks, Tyson and I had the whole wing to ourselves.I stood barefoot on the rug in front of the mirror, wearing an ivory silk nightgown that used to drape loose down my waist.Now it stretched tight across my middle.I rested both hands on the swell of my four-month belly. The skin felt warm and tight under my fingers. Along the curve of my hip, faint pink lines were starting to show — fresh stretch marks. And when I tucked my hair behind my ear, my fingers brushed the raised ridge of the scar running along my hairline.God, Rose, I thought, staring at my reflection. Look at you.I wasn't the untouchable director in pencil skirts anymore. I felt wide. Clumsy every time I tried to get off the sofa

TysonThe doors slammed shut with a boom that shook dust off the ceiling.I stood in the middle of the hall, staring at the empty space where three of the capital's most untouchable men had just scrambled out on their hands and knees like kicked dogs. Cassian hadn't even stopped for the pieces of his rod.My chest was still heaving.Pride. Hot, fierce pride, flooding straight through me.I'd spent my whole life thinking power only came from brutality and ruthless deals. Then Rose said two words and brought three lords to the floor without lifting a finger.I turned around.She was leaning against the fireplace, one hand braced on the mantel, the other curled over her belly. Her breath came quick and shallow, the silver in her eyes dimming back to her normal amber, dazed and wide.Her knees buckled."Rose," I said, already moving, catching her before she hit the ground."Tyson... I'm fine," she said, voice hoarse. "I can walk—""You're not walking anywhere," I said, scooping her up and

TysonThe council room was loud, stuffy, and giving me a pounding headache.Every chair around the long table was filled with old men who smelled like panic, cold sweat, and cheap cologne. Garrett stood by the projector screen, his arms crossed over his tactical vest, looking like he wanted to put a bullet through the drywall just to get some damn quiet."I’m telling you, Tyson, the southern border wires have been humming since dawn," Garrett said, raising his voice over the muttering elders. "Three separate diplomatic missives hit the secure terminal before breakfast. Alpha Miller, Alpha Vance’s cousin in the lowlands, and that snake Hayes from the River Ridge. All three of them want an emergency summit by the end of the week."I leaned back in my leather chair, slowly rolling up the cuffs of my black dress shirt. "And what’s their official excuse?""To 'reaffirm border stability and trade treaty protocols in light of unprecedented seismic and spiritual disturbances,'" Garrett read o