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The 100-Point Plan For His Regret

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 802    |    Released on: 24/04/2026

Arch," in San Francisco. Bridget, ever loyal, asked no questions and immediately started

nd business management. She spent hours online, studying the work of top architects, her mind once again buzz

texts from his mother demanding to know why she wasn' t by her husband

versary, Blake came home. He found her in the home o

prised. "What

not looking up from her drafting table.

pleased. He was used to her life revolving around him. "I guess yo

t him. Her gaze was cool,

ing his hand a bandage and a week of her worried attention. Her s

words feeling hollow even to him.

riage, and he still saw her

e low. "If I said I wanted a

s phone rang. He glanced a

walking into his study

one he never used with her. She didn' t need to hear the words. She kne

m the study. "I' m taking you out

was one last thing

restaurant. He pulled up to the cu

alone. He was holding a huge bouquet of white gardenias and a beautifully wrapped gift b

flicker of some old, fooli

ed at his side, linkin

and triumphant. "Blake told me you were joining us to celebr

f hope died,

ce Caroline' s frozen expr

ing her the flowers and the gift.

The dinner, the flowers, the gift. She was just t

orite." She unwrapped the gift to reveal the diamond necklace he had been so excited about. "A

, his eyes fixed on Ariana, a so

ffocating. She reached out and took the bouquet f

e said, her voice a strained wh

you, Caroline. You'

her along. He had used her. He had used their anniversary as a cover to celeb

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The 100-Point Plan For His Regret
The 100-Point Plan For His Regret
“For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.”