Too Late to Regret My Ex-Husband's Obsession Couldn't Stop Me

The banquet had been planned for the evening, all for Estelle, but as soon as she took leave, Bronson eagerly changed the time.

He couldn’t wait to see her. If it weren’t for her insistence on working, he would’ve locked her by his side forever, keeping her from the world.

In the banquet hall, Kade’s gaze fell on the diamond bracelet Bronson had kept close—one he had practically fought for at auction, tripling the price to get his hands on it.

"Is this for Estelle?" Kade asked a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"It suits her," Bronson replied, his fingers brushing over the bracelet with tenderness, as if holding something infinitely precious. His gaze softened as if he were gazing at Estelle herself.

Kade shuddered and hastily took a sip of his drink.

"Man, you’re going all out for a wedding anniversary. Are you seriously planning to spend your whole life with Estelle?"

Bronson tucked the bracelet away and responded casually, "What’s wrong with that?"

"Nothing... just wait until you piss off Lawyer Maddox. When she sends you to jail, I’ll be sure to visit you on holidays," Kade said with a wince, half-joking.

"She wouldn’t dare," Bronson replied confidently, his voice steady.

Kade looked at him, disbelief and concern mingling in his eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Estelle.

The Bradwell family was an enigma, standing apart from the rest of their circle. Bronson had been snatched away as a child, tortured by enemies. He didn’t return to his family until his teenage years. When they found him, he was a shell of a boy, his body covered in bruises, barely hanging on to life after days of abuse.

That harrowing childhood left scars, not just on his skin but deep in his soul. While he seemed composed most of the time, when it came to something or someone he held dear, he became like a bloodthirsty predator. Once his claws sank in, he’d never let go.

Estelle was the only one he had ever truly pursued.

Bronson’s phone buzzed, and, a little drunk, he opened it. The moment his eyes scanned the message, the alcohol seemed to evaporate, replaced by a cold fury. His face hardened, and with a curse, he hurled the phone across the room.

When Estelle limped into the banquet hall, she found it empty except for Bronson.

She sensed something was wrong and stopped in her tracks.

Bronson stood in the middle of the room, his sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the mix of sophistication and danger. He stubbed out his cigarette and turned his gaze to her. The anger on his face disappeared as soon as he noticed her cast.

He was by her side in a heartbeat. "How did this happen?"

"I tripped," Estelle replied, her voice cold and distant.

Bronson saw through her lie instantly, and the anger he had been holding back flared to life once more. He ground his teeth before demanding,

"Where were you yesterday?"

Estelle hesitated, then, hoping to brush it off, answered, "I was working late."

Bronson smiled, but it was nothing more than a grimace, his patience wearing thin. "I’ll give you one more chance."

Estelle knew this moment would come, though she had hoped to avoid it. She’d felt it hanging in the air for some time, like the calm before a storm, but she hadn’t expected it to break so soon.

When she didn’t respond, Bronson knew she had made her choice: silence. And he hated it, hated the way she pretended to ignore the issue as if it were beneath her.

During his years abroad, Bronson had found solace in the brutal sport of boxing. No mercy, no hesitation. With that same energy, he kicked a table across the room, sending glass shards flying in all directions, crashing like thunder.

“Estelle, is it really so hard for you to have a child with me?” His voice was strained, his eyes bloodshot, as he closed the distance between them, trapping her against the wall.

“Why would I want to?” Estelle retorted, her crutch slipping from her grip as she steadied herself against the wall. “Why would I want a child with a thief?”

Bronson’s laugh was bitter, twisted by frustration. His teeth ground together as he lowered his head to her neck, his breath hot against her skin. “I... I wanted to be good to you, Estelle.”

Estelle felt a cold shiver creep up her spine. How could he still speak of being “good” to her after everything he had done? It was as if he had no understanding of the damage he had caused.