All Chapters of TOO LATE TO REGRET, EX-HUSBAND: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

The red laser dot danced across the dark fabric of Arthur's jacket before snapping sharply upward, burning a bright, glowing crimson circle right between my eyes.My breath caught in my throat. Every muscle in my body locked up instantly.From the shadows near the shattered medical cabinets, a tall figure stepped forward into the dim circle of our flashlight beams. He wore a dark tactical vest over a black hoodie, his face half-concealed by a black balaclava, leaving only cold, dead eyes visible. In his right hand, he held a suppressed pistol with the barrel aimed straight at my chest."Drop the box, Sinclair," the gunman repeated, his voice distorted slightly by a low, mechanical rasp, though his grip on the weapon was rock-solid. "Drop it right now, or the doctor's heart stops beating before she even hits the concrete."Arthur didn't flinch. But I could feel the sudden, massive surge of tension radiating from his body. His broad shoulders squared off, and his fingers tightened aroun

The glowing screen of the security monitor cast an eerie blue light across the shattered furniture of our living room.On the display, standing right outside our bent iron security gates in the pouring rain, was Clara Vance.My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the screen as if looking at a ghost. Clara was supposed to be locked away in a federal supermax prison three states away, serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Yet there she stood, wearing an immaculate white trench coat, her dark hair swept back neatly from her face, looking straight into the camera lens with a cold, knowing smile."Clara," I whispered, the name tasting like ash on my tongue.Arthur stepped up beside me, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He stared at the monitor, his dark eyes narrowing into dangerous slits."She's not alone," my father muttered, pointing a steady finger toward the background of the security feed.Right behind Clara’s limousine, two unmarked b

The tiny speaker on the console hissed softly as the recorded voice faded away into the quiet room.“Activate Protocol Omega across all regional accounts. Let the empire burn.”Those chilling words hung in the air like a heavy shroud. The monitor screen flickered, displaying a string of encrypted financial codes cascading down in harsh red lettering.I stood frozen beside the sofa, my arms still wrapped protectively around Leo and Emma, who were leaning sleepily against my side. My heart hammered against my ribs with a renewed, frantic rhythm. I thought we had won. I thought Clara's arrest meant the end of the nightmares, the bomb threats, and the endless syndicate wars.Instead, we had just unlocked a deeper, darker basement."Protocol Omega," Arthur repeated, his deep voice dangerously quiet. He stared at the glowing monitor, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned completely white. "Clara wasn't the head of the snake. She was just the tail."My father stepped closer t

The name echoed off the high vaulted ceiling of the living room like a gunshot.Julian Kingsley.Standing right inside our shattered entryway, wearing a dark, elegant overcoat dusted with evening rain, was a man who had been buried in federal records for a quarter of a century. His dark, piercing eyes scanned the ruined room before landing squarely on my face. The resemblance was undeniable. The sharp line of the jaw, the curve of the cheekbones, the intense, searching gaze—it was like looking into a mirror twenty years into the future."Julian?" Richard gasped, pushing himself up from the armchair with trembling legs. My father’s face went completely bloodless, his hand instinctively dropping toward his empty holster before he caught himself. "You... you died in the fire. Victoria said your car went off the bridge into the Hudson."Julian let out a low, humorless chuckle, stepping further onto the Persian rug. He shook his wet umbrella, leaving it standing near the ruined doorway bef

The flashing red and blue lights of the federal police cruisers painted the shattered walls of our living room in harsh, rolling waves of color. Outside, officers in heavy tactical gear were loading a handcuffed, screaming Adrian Kingsley into the back of an armored transport van. He thrashed and cursed, his eyes locked on me with pure, unadulterated venom until the heavy steel doors slammed shut, cutting off his muffled shouts.I let out a long, shaky breath, letting my head rest back against Arthur’s broad shoulder. His strong arm was wrapped securely around my waist, holding me close as the chaos of the raid slowly settled into a tense, quiet stillness."He's gone," Arthur murmured, his lips brushing softly against my hair. "He won't ever hurt you or the kids again.""Not yet," Julian said, stepping into the hallway from the front door. He had a grim, weathered look on his face, his dark eyes fixed on the silver watch strapped to his wrist. "Adrian was just the front man. The autom