His Regret Came Too Late for My Heart

I froze for half a heartbeat, startled by the chaos unfolding before me. I hadn’t even registered what was happening when a shadow surged from behind, shoving me aside. I hit the floor hard as the man rushed past—Marcus—and he went straight to Elara, cradling her in his arms like she was made of glass.

I’d thought my heart had reached its breaking point long ago, but the sight of him holding her, his voice rising in fury—not concern for me, but for her—proved me wrong.

“What’s wrong with you, Nora?” he barked, anger sharp in every syllable. “Elara just came to greet you, and you struck her out of nowhere!”

His glare cut through me like ice. There was no warmth left in those eyes, no trace of affection. For the first time, I saw what I truly was to him—nothing but a burden.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stand. “She provoked me, Marcus. She mentioned my mother and called me worthless,” I said, my voice trembling but steady enough to sting. “What did you expect me to do? Sit there quietly while you still refuse to explain what really happened back then? You told me the operation failed, and that was it!”

For a brief moment, I saw panic flicker across his face—real and raw—but it was gone as soon as it appeared. He straightened, his expression smooth again. “What explanation do you need? I told you already. The surgery didn’t work because of your mother’s condition. Why are you acting like I’ve kept something from you?”

Because you did keep something from me, I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t—not yet. Revenge had its own timing.

Before I could respond, he cut in again, his tone hardening. “No matter what, that doesn’t give you the right to hit her. Elara was being polite. You owe her an apology.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Elara spoke first, her voice sweetly composed, the perfect victim. “It’s fine, Marcus. Really. She probably still resents me for what happened between Ethan and me. I can’t blame her. If she needed to slap me to get it out of her system, then so be it. Don’t scold her on my account.”

The two of them turned away before I could say another word. Halfway across the hallway, I heard her whisper softly, just loud enough for me to catch. “If she hates me this much, maybe it’s better if we stop seeing each other. I don’t want to make things difficult for you.”

That was it. The final crack. Whatever thread of emotion I had left for Marcus snapped completely.

I stood there, fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. The love I’d held onto for five years—burning, desperate, foolish—finally turned to ash.

A few hours later, my phone buzzed.

I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to upset you by asking you to apologize. Elara’s in charge of the Harris project—I didn’t want to risk our contract. Once everything settles, I’ll make it up to you. I told you I’d get you a gift, didn’t I? Don’t be angry, please.

I stared at the message, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. He didn’t care about me. Not then, not now. He was still doing everything for her. I tossed the phone aside, gathered the bag I’d already packed, and left the house without a second glance.

The hotel room I checked into was small and cold, but it was silent—and that was all I wanted. For once, no lies, no performance. Just me and my resolve.

I had barely unpacked when my phone rang again. It was one of the employees from Marcus’s company.

“Ma’am, where are you?” she asked nervously. “The investor meeting is about to start—are you on your way?”

I was about to tell her I wasn’t coming when a voice filtered through the background. Marcus.

“Call a team of specialists,” he ordered briskly. “Elara needs treatment immediately.”

I blinked, stunned for a moment, before a humorless laugh escaped me. Treatment? For what—her pride? She’d barely been scratched. Yet he was ready to spend millions for her comfort.

I hung up. “Tell him I won’t be attending,” I said curtly.

Moments later, my phone lit up again—Marcus this time. I didn’t want to answer, but curiosity got the better of me. I pressed the call button silently, not saying a word. He didn’t realize I’d already picked up; his attention was on someone else.

“Sir,” his secretary said, “are you certain you want to revise this contract? The loss could exceed tens of millions. The board might—”

“Do it,” Marcus interrupted. “I made Elara a promise. If she wants it changed, it gets changed.”

The line went quiet after the secretary left. Then his voice softened, switching effortlessly into his husband act.

“Hey, love,” he said sweetly, as though nothing had happened. “They told me you missed the meeting. Are you okay?”

“I’m not feeling well,” I replied, my tone deliberately weak.

“Then rest,” he said quickly. “I’ll cancel the rest of my schedule and come home soon.”

I didn’t bother answering. He wouldn’t come back—not when Elara was around. I spent the rest of the day in silence, waiting.

Evening arrived, and still no sign of him. I scrolled idly through my phone, half-distracted, until a live stream caught my eye—an influencer showing off dresses at a luxury boutique. I almost scrolled past… until a familiar figure appeared in the background.

Marcus. Standing beside Elara. Holding up a dress against her body, laughing. Smiling.

My heart turned to stone.

This was the moment. I called my lawyer first. “Send the divorce documents to his assistant immediately,” I said. “Do not wait.” Then I contacted the agency—the one that specialized in disappearances. “We move tonight.”

Later, I would hear how the news reached him. How his secretary had burst into his office, pale and trembling.

“Sir,” she stammered, clutching her tablet, “there’s an issue. Madam Nora apparently found out the truth about her mother—and she’s filed for divorce.”

I could almost see his expression: confusion, disbelief, then dread.

Moments later, another staff member came running in, breathless. “Sir! There’s been a report—Madam Nora… she’s gone. They said she ended her life because she couldn’t bear what you did to her mother.”