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Too Late For Regret: The Neglected Wife

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 594    |    Released on: Today at 13:46

ions. Just a calm statem

t were a venomous snake. She walked to the kitchen, poure

ok. Don'

ute. Fi

dark and silent,

ps. He'd probably seen it and

to give up and go to b

throat. She walked back to

ge from Dom

ngle

in

cold, dismissive agreement to end their seven-year marriage,

d at the w

ange feeling w

li

better than any messy, dra

ic as usual, moving through the day as if the

th worried eyes, her gaze lingering

efore Jessica could ask

work, using her patients

Reeves estate. Mrs. Miller, the housekeeper,

nted to

ted your presence." Mrs. Miller's to

stion washing over her. It wa

t drizzle had started. She stood by the curb,

An unknown numbe

need me to s

sickly sweet.

ened. "How did y

"Oh, I don't have it. I'm calling from Dom's phone. He's in

s blatant,

satisfaction of a victor, "and his reply. 'Fine.' So like him,

and sharp. She said nothi

the curb. The window slid down, re

one in the rain? Waiting fo

s playboy, a close friend of Alona's, and someone w

him and turne

"I'm heading to the dinner too. My brother... he's prob

rain, then at the unresponsi

gned sigh,

m the devil she knew than give Dom

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Too Late For Regret: The Neglected Wife
Too Late For Regret: The Neglected Wife
“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.”