Too Late For Regret: The Neglected Wife

Chapter 2

Word Count: 780 | Released on: Today at 13:46

lowly raised a hand to point at her own cheek - re

w furrowed - just for a second. Something f

napped back lik

ar-streaked. "Maybe she didn't mean it... My head hurts."

ightened. "We're going

out his wallet, and tossed a bl

by his assistant. Tonight was the first time he'd han

bill to my assistant." His tone was fl

rd bounce. A hollow

h the card. "Wh

His patience was gone.

an arm around Alona, and h

uit. This time he didn't speak. He just turned his face aw

Auntie Alona" her son talked about every day. The one who bough

view. The Bentley pulled away, its tires

g, but she no longer felt the cold.

t there before her phone rang.

? You missed your ev

as a psychologist. She owned a small, well

her voice strange and far awa

zed with sudden, terrifying clarity: in the life she had built,

fingers trembling, she ordered a t

ery. It was full of Leo. But in the most recent photo

she wasn't as fun as Auntie Alona. Inez had blamed herself, believing she had neglected

faced middle-aged man handed h

The simple kindness from a s

sion on the hill she shared with Dominic, but to a small apartment in the he

the hot water wash away the chill and the humiliation. In the steamed-up mi

-deceit - wiped awa

ptop, ignored the flood of work emails, and opened a blank document. Her fingers hov

da Reeves - the iron-fisted matriarch who ruled the family - would never all

r. What she needed right now was a

contact. Her heart hammered - a frantic, trapped bir

let's get

Chapter End

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Too Late For Regret: The Neglected Wife

Roldan Mccartney Modern

“My car broke down in a torrential downpour, so I called my husband of seven years for help. He hung up on me. But minutes later, his childhood sweetheart, Alona, pulled up, slapped herself in the face, and called his private line crying that I had attacked her. Dominic arrived in his Bentley almost immediately. He didn't even look at my shivering, soaked body. Instead, he wrapped his jacket around Alona, tossed a corporate card at me to call a cab, and drove away. Through the car window, I saw our six-year-old son glaring at me. "Mom, stop making a scene! Auntie Alona is not feeling well." Later that night at the family dinner, his brother intentionally drove through a puddle to drench me in mud, and his mother forced me to wear a maid's uniform to the table. The family matriarch then ordered me to kneel on the cold marble floor, demanding I produce a second heir. For seven years, I thought my devotion could warm his cold heart. I didn't know everyone in his circle mocked me for trapping him with a pregnancy, or that I was just a convenient shield to protect his true love from his ruthless grandmother. I didn't cry, and I didn't argue. I simply stood up from the cold floor and sent him a text message. "Dominic, let's get a divorce." The next morning, I blocked every number in the Reeves family and called my lawyer.”