Too Late for Regrets, Dear Husband

Chapter 4

Back at the Mansion

Jaxon pushed open the door to Valerie’s room. A room that had been part of his house but never part of his life.

He stepped inside, the scent of her still faint in the air. It was neater than he expected. No sign of struggle, no trace of the woman who had once fought for his attention.

His gaze landed on a stack of papers on the nightstand. He wasn’t planning to look—he didn’t need to know anything else about her.

But his fingers moved on their own.

A single sheet stood out, the official stamp catching his eye.

Jaxon’s breath stilled as he read the words.

Pregnancy Confirmation Report.

His fingers tightened around the paper.

Pregnant.

His mind raced back to that night at the warehouse.

I’m pregnant, Jaxon. I swear.

He had thought it was a lie. A pathetic, desperate attempt to make him go easy on her.

But it wasn’t.

He exhaled, crumpling the paper in his fist.

“She deserved it,” he muttered, refusing to look weighed down.

Jaxon let out a slow breath, staring at the crumpled paper in his fist. The weight of the revelation pressed against his ribs, but he refused to let it sink in.

A sharp knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Enter.”

Mason stepped inside, “Boss,” he greeted with a small nod. His gaze flickered briefly to the report, but he made no comment. “You asked me to check on Nora.”

Jaxon turned away from the nightstand, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of something unseen. “And?”

“She’s at the penthouse. She’s fine now.”

Jaxon gave a single nod. “Good.”

Nora had fainted immediately seeing Valerie’s lifeless body.

Mason hesitated.

“It’s not my place, Boss, but… I thought you should know. Madam—she wasn’t lying. About anything.”

Jaxon’s expression didn’t shift. If anything, his face grew colder. “And?”

Mason lowered his head slightly in deference. “Nothing, sir. Just that she—” He stopped himself, choosing his words carefully. “She was loyal. Until the end.”

Jaxon exhaled slowly, his jaw tight. For a moment, something unreadable flickered behind his eyes—but then, just as quickly, it was gone. His next words were ice.

“Where’s the car?”

“Out front, Boss.”

Without another word, Jaxon strode past Mason.

******

Three Month Later

Three months passed, the world had moved on. The Blackwell family hadn’t made a fuss about Valerie’s disappearance. Jaxon made sure of that.

As far as the world was concerned, Valerie Blackwell was dead.

And Jaxon? He hadn’t thought about her since that night. That’s what he told himself.

The meeting was nearly over. His top men sat around the polished mahogany table, the air thick with cigar smoke and the scent of whiskey.

Jaxon leaned back in his chair, skimming the final contract. The deal was solid—a merger of power, control, and money. It would make him untouchable.

Satisfied, he grabbed his pen, scrawled his signature at the bottom, and slid the contract toward the man across from him.

“Done,” Jaxon said smoothly. “We have a deal.”

The man—Vincent Moretti, head of the East Syndicate—didn’t move. Instead, he exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the table.

“There’s one last thing,” Vincent said.

Jaxon’s expression darkened. “And what’s that?”

Vincent lifted his gaze. “To finalize the contract, we need the approval of the second party.”

Jaxon’s brow furrowed. “Second party? Who?”

The door creaked open and Jaxon’s entire body froze.

His men tensed, their hands twitching near their weapons.

Jaxon turned his head slowly and then—his world tilted.

Valerie.