Too Late For My Ex-Husband's Regret

Chapter 3

Word Count: 606 | Released on: Today at 16:22

a P

eat on my fork. Holding back a wave of nausea,

made my throat tighten up. I forced myself to swallow it, set

lared into pure glee. She covered her mouth and l

like Aria really

d didn't even lift his head. "If she

and leaned down, bringin

" she whispered, low enough tha

e rim of my water glass as a c

t carried across the entire dining room. "It'

. My mind went c

-the only warm, living thing that had kept me sane du

ooden legs screeched against the floor. My voice

fied face and stumbled two steps b

severe allergy to animal fur. The doctor said a pregnant woman can't be around pe

own her cheeks

chunk of burning iron in my gut. I clapped a hand over my mouth, shoved the chai

bly, hot tears spilling from my eyes. Sour bile and undigeste

ice rang out. "Have you lost your

. My knuckles turned white as I braced myself against the marble counter. For three years, I had endured his coldne

loodshot eyes in the mirror. Whatever softness or guilt

lked back to the table step by step. Brittny was st

ice raspy and dead calm. "You gave h

linen napkin, and wiped the corner of his mouth. He

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Too Late For My Ex-Husband's Regret

Mo Er Romance

“My NHL All-Star husband brought his pregnant mistress home in the middle of a blizzard. He threw a divorce and fake PR remarriage contract at my feet, demanding I take the blame for our split so he wouldn't breach his franchise morality clause. He claimed he owed the mistress a proper title because she donated her kidney to save him after a fatal crash three years ago. But he was too blind to know the kidney inside his body was actually mine. When I refused to play along with his PR stunt, his mistress maliciously had my pet rabbit cooked and tricked me into eating it. I slapped them both in absolute grief, but my husband snapped. He forced my bloody thumbprint onto the contract, then brought ten thugs into the house to drug me and film a fake cheating scandal to ruin me forever. As hallucinogenic gas filled the locked attic, I clawed at the door and screamed for my life. But my husband just told his mistress to ignore my "pathetic act" and walked out the front door with her. I had endured his coldness and the fans' vicious hate for three years, secretly giving him my own organ to repay a life debt to his family. Why was my silent devotion repaid with him leaving me to be destroyed by a gang of thugs? Just as the men closed in, a mysterious man in the back row suddenly stepped forward and brutally crushed the entire gang in seconds. He wrapped his jacket around my shaking shoulders, his ice-blue eyes flashing with lethal rage. "It's okay now. You're safe." Surviving this hell, I knew my debt to the Hurley family was paid in full-now, it was their turn to bleed.”