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

Soleil’s words were veiled, yet Bronson understood them immediately.

Someone had tipped off Brandon about Estelle’s surgery, and the old man had nearly given the final word on their divorce.

In the Bradwell family, Bronson could disregard anyone’s opinion without much consequence, but Brandon’s voice was law. When everyone else had turned their back on Bronson, it was Brandon who had refused to give up, pushing for him to return to the family.

The Bradwell family had never been against Bronson marrying Estelle, except for Brandon, who believed Estelle was a woman of remarkable talent and beauty, their children destined for greatness.

But Estelle had made an unforgivable decision; she had aborted the child Bronson had desperately wanted.

In response, Bronson had knelt in front of the ancestral hall for three days, claiming he hadn’t been ready for a child, that he had smoked and drank during the period they had been trying, fearing the child would be unhealthy. He had taken the fall to protect her, burying the truth.

Estelle had never known any of this. Bronson didn’t want her to face Brandon; it would only make her uncomfortable. He didn’t mind taking the blame, but Estelle, fragile and delicate, could never bear Brandon’s punishment.

Reluctantly, Bronson let go of Estelle’s hand, instructing Soleil to take care of her, then walked away, glancing back several times before disappearing into the night.

Estelle didn’t want to argue with Soleil, but Soleil wasn’t about to let her go. As Estelle walked toward the terrace, Soleil relentlessly followed, her presence an unwelcome shadow. Estelle didn’t know where Soleil had found the plastic bottle, but it hit her sharply on the back.

“I heard you used to pick up trash to get to school. How does it feel seeing this? Does it bring back memories?” Soleil’s voice dripped with malice.

Estelle was never one to back down. With swift precision, she grabbed a wine bottle and smashed it against the railing. The jagged shards of glass glinted in her hand as she stepped forward, pinning Soleil down and pressing the sharp edges to her neck.

Soleil opened her mouth to scream, but Estelle’s hand inched closer, silencing her.

“Scream again, and when the others come in, they’ll find nothing but your body,” Estelle warned, her voice cold as steel.

“Estelle, how dare you…” Soleil’s voice quivered, but Estelle didn’t give her the chance to finish.

“Do you know the principle of staying clear of the happy? You, the young lady of a powerful family, with everything handed to you, and I—as you said—had to scrounge for bottles just to get to school. Now, I have no family, no ties, nothing left to lose. Do you think there’s anything I won’t do?”

Fear flooded Soleil’s eyes. Her body went cold with sweat as she realized the truth in Estelle’s words. One more breath, and she knew Estelle would end her without hesitation.

After what seemed like an eternity, Estelle finally released Soleil, the glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor. "If there’s a next time, I won’t hesitate to drag you down with me when I die," she warned coldly.

Soleil trembled, her eyes locked on Estelle, now filled with a mix of awe and fear. She had always believed that only someone from a prestigious family, like herself, could capture Bronson’s heart. But now, she realized it wasn’t someone like her, but rather someone like Estelle who could truly stir his soul.

That realization sank like a stone in her chest. She stumbled back, putting distance between them, only standing tall against the wall when she was sure Estelle could no longer harm her.

“I’ve met many women like you. If you truly had the courage, you’d have left him long ago. Let’s be honest, you’re after the Bradwell fortune.”

Estelle couldn’t help but chuckle, finding it almost laughable. Soleil had always seemed to be driven by obsessive love, but now Estelle saw her for what she truly was: unhinged.

“If you want him so badly, take him. If he wants to divorce me, I’ll be gone in an instant.”

Before she could finish her sentence, a fluttering sound caught her attention. The curtain behind her stirred, and Estelle spun around instinctively, her body tensing. She froze when she saw Bronson standing there, his presence like a storm.

A thin line of blood traced down his face, a reminder of something sharp that had grazed him. It only served to make his already intense, chiseled features appear even more wild, more dangerous.