Too Late For Regret: My Cold Husband's Tears

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 949 | Released on: 02/02/2026

of the table. Frederica stared at the olive submerged in the

speakeasy. Chloe was the only person in New York who knew Frederi

e leaves you after you serve him divorce papers because his ex-girlfriend scr

s flooded with notifications. The algorithm knew her better th

O to Attend Mus

s a picture of the Sinclair Gallery in

Reilly, Easton's younger brother. The man she had loved first. The man who had traded her to his older

le and clamped her hand over

er mind. "Going there tonight is suicid

way. Her eyes snapped into

hiding at home.' The Mccullough stock is already volatile. I cannot look weak.

ed a layer of crimson lipstick with the precision of a sniper adjust

he grabbed her coat. She followed Frederica out

ocked the entrance. The red carpet was a gauntlet of flashing lights. Frederica bypassed the main entr

unted, not looking

ess into something that could pass for a uniform. The guard waved them through. The moment her heel touched the polished concrete inside, her posture shifted. Her shoulders

gh the front windows, blinding strobes

s shouting for Easton, for

the A-listers. Frederica maintained a frozen, pleasant smile as she moved th

The camera feed is live," she whispered. "I've got a

walking on broken glass. She entered the main gallery, and the noise s

stale champagne. Eyes followed her. She c

ster of women in Chanel. "My God, is that a vintage Mc

She kept her eyes fixed o

they

Her hand was tucked possessively into the crook of Easton's arm. Easton wore a black tuxedo, looking like

stop. The visual confirmation was worse than the phone c

iumphant smile spread across her face. She raised a hand and

He turned. His eyes met Frede

w tightened. He didn't look hap

sponse, and she was done fleeing. She grabbed a glass of champagne

rd them. The crowd parte

e feet away. She

, her voice cutting through the ambient noise li

Chapter End

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Too Late For Regret: My Cold Husband's Tears

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“I stared at the cold crystal chandelier of our penthouse, my body aching from an act that felt less like love and more like a hostile takeover. After four years of being treated like a piece of furniture, I finally slammed the divorce papers onto the marble island. But Easton Reilly didn't even blink. Instead, he took a frantic call from his ex-girlfriend and walked out on me to go to her, leaving me naked and shivering in our walk-in closet. The humiliation didn't stop there. That night, his mistress unveiled a massive oil painting of Easton's bare, scarred back to a room full of New York's elite, stripping me of my dignity as his wife. When I fled to my childhood home for refuge, I found my mother in a pool of blood after a violent breakdown. My father, concerned only with his company's stock price, refused to call an ambulance and handed me a hush-money check while my mother lay dying. Even my brother-in-law, the man who had traded me to Easton years ago, tried to assault me in the driveway. I felt like I was drowning in plain sight, surrounded by wolves who viewed my life as nothing more than a line on a balance sheet. I hated Easton for his indifference and my father for his cruelty. I was ready to burn my entire world down just to feel the warmth of the fire. "He took the bait," I whispered into my phone, my voice dead calm. "Initiate Plan B." Just as my father prepared to let my mother die, a team of world-class surgeons stormed the hospital, citing a secret clause in my prenup that I had long forgotten. I looked down the sterile hallway and saw the silhouette of the husband I was trying to leave. He hadn't gone to his mistress; he had gone to war for me. The game had officially changed.”