Too Late for Regret by KatVonBeck

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray's text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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My childhood best friend and I made a pact: Stanford first, then the world.

But an hour before the deadline, he gave it all up for another girl.

He chose to stay at the local state university, for Anisa, a girl who seemed so helpless.

He arrogantly assumed I would give up my future to follow him.

He didn't know, in that moment, he was the one I was letting go.

I vanished from his world. He thought I was overreacting, that I'd come around in a few days.

But when I boarded that plane to California, I wasn't just leaving him behind. I was choosing myself, for the first time.

Chapter 1

My finger hovered over the "submit" button, trembling slightly. Not from fear of the future, but from the sting of betrayal, a wound barely an hour old.

"He backed out, didn't he?" Lily's voice on the phone held a weary understanding. She knew us too well.

I didn't need to answer.

"He just told you, just like that? No discussion?" Anger started to creep into her tone.

I closed my eyes.

Jonah's confident smile flashed in my mind. The smile he'd used to deliver the news, as if he were doing us both a favor.

"He said Anisa needs him."

"Of course, she does." Lily sighed. "So, what about you? You gonna follow him to State? Give up Stanford for..." She trailed off, unable to articulate the feeling of downgrade.

My thumb, driven by a morbid curiosity, scrolled mindlessly through social media.

And there it was.

Anisa, face shyly tucked behind Jonah's shoulder. The caption read, "Found strength when I least expected it."

My chest tightened, like a cold steel band squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"No," I said. "I'm not following him anywhere."

My gaze fixed on the cursor blinking next to the "submit" button.

"I'm only responsible for my own life, Lily," I said.

The clock in the corner of my screen ticked down, merciless. The final deadline for Stanford's application was now.

"Good," Lily said, a note of fierce resolve in her voice. "Because I'm already planning our trip to California. Claire, you're going to love it there."

A knock at the door startled me.

I looked up. It was him. Jonah, one arm casually draped over Anisa's shoulder.

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