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Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlson

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 968 | Released on: 22/01/2026

shut, sealing them inside. The s

e scent of her. Aubree's perfume. Something heavy and floral, like gardenias left out in the hea

s eyes. He looked exhausted. For a second, the mask slip

if he had a headache, was a phantom limb. It was an old habit from a time when

closed, "don't dress like you're at

ds tasted like ash. "I'm

ing well, Alexia. It's always something. A

neon streaks. It wasn't an excuse. It was a fact. But facts did

hone

s pocket, the screen lighting up his face i

u saved me from that b

ips. He typed a reply, his thumbs moving quickly.

uld stifle it. She fumbled with the clasp of her purse, her fingers shaki

le rattled ag

oward her. "What is tha

e back into the depths of the bag.

sound of pu

ike it had mass. When they pulled into the underground gara

hed the numbers climb. A

he walked away. "I'm going to the study,"

the study

the cold glass of the window. She was twenty-six years old. She was married t

scent lights of Carlson Glob

tant-and walked toward the R&D department. Her right si

reak room. Laugh

id you see the photos on Page Six? Jen

e. "Where wa

e. Honestly, I don't know why he stays married to h

hand gripped the str

eared loudl

rson in this building who knew Alexia had written the core code

at the break room. The

ession softening into concern

smile. "Good mornin

er, lowering his voice. "Seriously. Y

. "The migration

she swayed slightly. "You are the only stable thing in th

uth to argue, but a

was flanked by the CFO and two board members. But

the hallway seemed

. The executives trailed

ing back, dropping his hand.

looked at Alexia. His g

he said, his voice low and

ood drain from her

do it on your own time. Not on my pay

been with Aubree all night. He had let h

n. "I'm sorry,

h him. Alexia caught Alf's eye an

derisive huff. "Get ba

ay. He didn'

e the whispers in the break room

Chapter End

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Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlson

Waldo Friesinger Billionaires

“I stood at the edge of the ballroom, a black blot on my husband's perfect canvas. While Jensen Carlson stood under the crystal chandeliers as the master of his universe, the guests whispered that his "friend" Aubree was a much better match for him than I ever could be. My stomach was twisting in sharp, jagged cramps from what I knew was acute appendicitis, but to the Carlson family, I wasn't a wife-I was a utility. My mother-in-law called me a "drill bit" and ordered me to drive Jensen home like a servant because his "optics" mattered more than my internal organs. When I arrived, Jensen didn't ask why I was shaking; he just snapped that my black coat was "depressing" and told me to stop "fidgeting" with my medication. He spent the night whispering to Aubree, then came home and fed my divorce papers into a shredder, mocking me for thinking I could survive a week without the Carlson name. The next day, he humiliated me in front of my entire department, accusing me of flirting with staff just as I was about to collapse from the pain. I had given up my PhD for this man and secretly written the code that built his billion-dollar empire, yet he viewed me as nothing more than a "depreciating asset." Even as I lay shivering on the hardwood floor because his mother locked the guest rooms to force me into his bed, he only sneered, asking if he was "that repulsive" when the pain made me vomit. "If you're not in the car by seven, I'll cut off your grandfather's medical funding." That was the final thread. I didn't go to the gala. Instead, I reclaimed my original patents, wiped my server access, and met him on the curb with a cardboard box and a resignation letter. "I'm not your wife anymore, Jensen. And I'm not your employee." As my Uber pulled away, leaving him clutching a revoked patent and a divorce petition, I realized I wasn't losing everything-I was finally starting to breathe.”