Too Late For Regret: My Genius Wife

ng Isolde fel

ffocating weig

rking violently as air

s snapp

guest bedroom. S

and ash was gone, replaced by the cloying scent of e

ic blasted her

her shoulder. "Pardon

ching her reflection

er hair was done up in an intricate chignon. Her face... her face looked young

ed her ch

ive banner hung acros

H BIRTHD

Ef

so small and delicate it was nearly swallowed by the grand, bold letters of

pped, then she pul

da

actly one

the pillar for support. Hal

old

was sharp.

ed, handsome, and annoyed. But there was a difference. He didn

w so the guests wouldn't hear. "You're standing there gap

w, radiant in a red gown that cost more

dripping with fake sweetness. "Did y

at them. The

t table. A small girl in a plain wh

fi

st Grayson, her shoulder checking

e!" he

dropped to her knees

arful. She flinched, expecting to

Effie w

aughter into a hug so tight she felt

rm

Thump-thump

beautiful sound

uneral, but loud, gasping sobs of relief. She buried her face in E

solde choked out

ere staring. The crazy wife, cryin

e grabbed Isolde's upper arm, hi

ear. "You are making a scene.

de f

d signed the divorce papers without looking. The hand that

olde raise

ked at

ping one hand on

Grayson's ha

t.

k by the icy command in her

a sharp, practiced twist she hadn't used in six years-muscle memor

emove it. She thr

ack a step, shock

d her spine. She s

carrying across the silent pocke