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Too Late For His Empty Regret Novel Cover

Too Late For His Empty Regret

My husband Ethan was my childhood hero, the perfect man who promised me forever. After our son was born, he seemed like the perfect father, too. Then an anonymous message popped up on my phone: Ethan Blake is cheating. I have proof. But the man I found wasn't just a cheater. He was a monster who mocked my postpartum body with his mistress. "All that trauma from childbirth... It's too much," he'd said, disgusted. He publicly humiliated me, caused an accident that left me crippled, and then bankrupted my family's company, putting my father in the ICU. This was the same man who once broke his own hand to protect me, the boy who swore he'd love me forever. How could he become this cruel stranger who looked at me with nothing but disgust? As he left me broken and blamed me for everything, the love I had for him finally died. I picked up my phone and called a number I hadn't dialed in years. "Jackson," I said, my voice cold as ice. "It's Audrey. I need your help. Remember your offer?"
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Chapter 2

Audrey POV:

The anonymous account responded instantly: Tell me what you need, Audrey. The message was chillingly direct. I typed back, Everything.

The next morning, a thick envelope appeared on my doorstep. Inside, I found photo evidence, detailed schedules, even hotel receipts. Kendall' s face, always so composed, now looked like a venomous snake in the grainy photographs. My husband, Ethan, looked happy. Happier than he' d looked with me in months.

Alongside the evidence, there was a pre-drafted divorce agreement. It was surprisingly simple, granting me custody of our son, a generous settlement, and a significant portion of Ethan' s assets. It was almost too good to be true. My anonymous helper covered all the bases.

Kendall sent another message: Did you find my little surprise? Ethan's quite the passionate one, isn't he? A wave of nausea washed over me. She was taunting me. She knew I knew.

I stared at the divorce papers on the polished mahogany table, my hand trembling as I reached for the pen. It felt heavy, like a weapon. My heart was a bruised thing in my chest.

I remembered Ethan, a reckless sixteen-year-old, racing his beat-up car through the pouring rain to pick me up from a party. He'd crashed it, breaking his arm, but he'd still made sure I was okay first. "Are you hurt, Auds?" he'd asked, his face white with pain, ignoring his own bloodied arm.

He was my hero then. He was the one I ran to, the one who made me feel safe. He was everything. That feeling, that absolute certainty, was a deep, unshakeable part of me. How could I tear that out? It felt like amputating a limb.

The thought of living without him, without the life we built, was a vast, empty canyon. It stretched before me, dark and terrifying.

My phone buzzed again. Kendall: Still dilly-dallying? Ethan just left for his 'late night meeting' with me. We have champagne.

Then, a text from Ethan: Working late, babe. Big deal coming up. Don't wait up. Love you.

The word "love" tasted like ash. I picked up the pen, my hand no longer trembling. It moved swiftly, decisively, across the dotted line. My signature. Audrey Fox.

It was done. The air left my lungs in a shaky exhale. A strange mix of emptiness and a terrifying sense of freedom washed over me.

Later that evening, the nanny brought me a warm glass of milk. "Mr. Blake said it would help you sleep, ma'am," she said softly, her eyes full of concern.

Ethan. Always the thoughtful husband. He used to brew special herbal teas for me, precisely measured, to help with my fragile stomach in college. He' d even learned to massage my temples just right to ease my tension headaches. He had been so attentive, so caring.

I let out a harsh, broken laugh. A single tear traced a path down my cheek. The care, the thoughtfulness, it was all a performance now. A lie.

I didn't sleep a wink that night. The next morning, I dressed in the sharpest suit I owned, the divorce papers clutched in my hand. My body felt weak, but my resolve was iron. I had to face him.

I arrived at Blake Enterprises, the gleaming tower of Ethan' s power. Kendall was already there, perched on the edge of Ethan's mahogany desk, a smirk playing on her lips. She looked at me, her eyes glinting with triumph.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Mrs.," Kendall purred, picking up Ethan's heavy corporate seal. She stamped a document with a flourish, then tossed the seal back onto the desk. "Right on time. The agreement is effective today, by the way. I made sure to expedite it."

I remembered Ethan refusing to let me touch his seal, saying it was "company property, too important." Now, this woman, his mistress, handled it with such casual disregard. The hypocrisy was a fresh wound.

"You really think you've won, Kendall?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. I knew anger was useless now. It only served to fuel her.

She laughed, a brittle sound. "Oh, Audrey. I always win. You just took longer to realize it." She pushed the sealed divorce agreement across the desk towards me. "Here you go, hun. Your ticket to freedom. And mine."

I picked up the papers. My gaze met hers. "Enjoy your victory, Kendall," I said, my voice low. "But remember, what goes around, comes around."

I turned to leave, the heavy doors of Ethan's office building looming before me. Just as I reached them, they swung open, and Ethan stepped in. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowed when he saw me.

"Audrey? What are you doing here?" His tone was sharp, impatient. He wasn't pleased.

Then he saw Kendall, his face softening immediately. He walked past me as if I were invisible, his arm going around Kendall' s waist. "Kendall, my love, you didn't have to wait for me. You look exhausted." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "You've been working so hard on this project."

A sickly sweet scent hit me. It was Kendall' s expensive shower gel. It clung to Ethan, a physical manifestation of their betrayal. My stomach clenched. I needed to get out. Now.

"What's that you have there?" Ethan asked, his eyes finally landing on the papers in my hand. His brow furrowed at the bold red seal.

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