Too Late For My Ex-Husband's Regret

Chapter 7

Word Count: 706 | Released on: Today at 16:22

a P

d blew snow into the foyer. White flakes swirled ac

and dark jackets walked in, filling the r

their faces were hard and flat, like

s used for dirty jobs. I had seen him once in Brennan's study, and he was

om sofa and pointed at me on the

ge the cheating photos like we plann

s moved over me slowly, like he was alr

ng phone, Brody glanced over at Brittny

on something. Brittny's lips curved,

chin slightly toward the ceiling. Her hand rested on her b

e weren't paid actors hired to take fake photo

ag from his waistband, and shoved it roughly into

ldly as two huge men grabbed my wrists and dra

wood steps on the way up. Each step sent

I stared desperately at Brennan, begging him wit

h shut and don't let her dirty the carpet," he said, waving a han

n attic level Brennan always called soundproofed, th

n and threw me hard onto the king-s

a ceramic lamp crashed to the floor and shattere

the heavy oak door slammed shut behind the ten men, followed by the loud

facing the bed, set up a mini v

ed light

t the camera, then back at me. "We're not just taking pictures. We're filming

rted humming softly. Four of the men pulled small filter masks

t into the closed room. It curled through the

tiny bit, and the room immediately started spinning as the me

cked, one after anoth

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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.”