Between Ruin And Resolve My Ex-Husband's Regret novel Chapter 590

Chapter 590 Invitation

Blaine’s words died on his lips, cut short mid–sentence.

Tina had already brushed past him, shoving the door open with unmistakable urgency as she hurried into the hospital room. “Sadie!” she called out.

She left Blaine standing there with his arm still half–raised, completely frozen in place as the atmosphere crackled with sudden awkwardness.

Had she really just dismissed him so completely? She really couldn’t care less about him, could she? Still, he had to admit -teasing her sparked a certain thrill he found difficult to ignore.

Blaine rubbed his nose, a flush of embarrassment warming his face, and slowly lowered his hand. There were more pressing matters demanding his attention.

He turned on his heel and strode out of the hospital, slipped into his car, and fired up the engine. Minutes later, the highway stretched before him like an endless ribbon.

He needed to return to Jazmah and handle the tasks Sadie had entrusted to him.

A three–hour drive wasn’t exactly torture, but it certainly tested one’s patience. Still, Blaine hummed a nameless tune, feeling oddly light–hearted.

The traffic thinned considerably after he exited the highway. Then, without a whisper of warning, the unexpected shattered his calm.

Several black vehicles materialized from both sides and converged behind Blaine’s car with predatory precision.

They moved in perfect synchronization–swift, deliberate, and methodical. Within moments, they’d expertly boxed him in and forced him onto the shoulder.

Blaine’s heart slammed against his ribs as he stomped on the brakes. What the hell was happening? A brazen daylight robbery? Or had someone specifically targeted him?

His mind frantically cataloged every questionable deed that might have provoked retribution. Nothing particularly damning surfaced in his memory. At worst, he’d pursued a few women and left some broken hearts in his wake.

The doors of the black cars swung open in eerie unison. Several imposing figures in immaculate black suits and opaque sunglasses emerged–textbook security professionals straight from central casting.

One of them approached Blaine’s window and rapped his knuckles against the glass–authoritative yet restrained.

“Mr. Castro,” he said with mechanical precision, his voice devoid of emotion, “Our employer requests your immediate presence for a conversation.”

Blaine blinked rapidly, bewilderment clouding his features. What on earth was unfolding here?

The odds stacked heavily against him. Resistance seemed pointless and potentially dangerous. He might as well cooperate and discover the purpose behind this elaborate interception.

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Swallowing the knot of apprehension in his throat, Blaine pushed open the door and climbed out. “Alright then. Lead the way,” he said with forced casualness.

Two stone–faced guards materialized at his sides, escorting him toward the central vehicle–a gleaming, midnight–black luxury sedan that screamed power and wealth.

The door thumped closed behind him with ominous finality. Inside, shadows dominated the dimly lit interior, and the atmosphere pressed down like a physical weight.

Blaine cleared his throat deliberately, attempting to pierce the suffocating silence. “So, who exactly is your boss? If someone orchestrated this elaborate production just to meet me, I believe I’ve earned the courtesy of a name.”

Silence greeted his inquiry. Neither the driver, the guard in the passenger seat, nor those flanking him acknowledged his question. They remained forward–facing and motionless, resembling carved sentinels rather than living men.

Discomfort crawled across Blaine’s skin, the prolonged silence making him shift uneasily in his seat.

Fine, the silent treatment it was. Blaine forced a smirk and settled back against the supple leather, surveying the opulent interior with feigned interest.

Whoever commanded such resources was undoubtedly swimming in wealth or wielding considerable influence–perhaps both.

Half an hour of tense silence later, the motorcade glided to a halt outside the imposing facade of Autumn Garden Villa.

Recognition flickered across Blaine’s face–this prestigious property allegedly belonged to someone whose connections reached into the highest echelons of power.

The guards shepherded him through marble hallways into the villa’s cavernous living room, their footsteps echoing against polished floors.

Noah lounged on an elegant couch, his lean frame wrapped in an impeccably tailored black suit, his features concealed behind that characteristic silver mask. Between long fingers, he idly swirled a glass of burgundy wine that caught the light like liquid rubies.

The vice grip of tension around Blaine’s chest loosened marginally when he recognized his host. So it was Patrick after all. Yet this theatrical production seemed wildly disproportionate for a simple meeting.

Blaine inwardly cursed the needless drama, then crafted a perfectly relaxed grin. He sauntered across the room and dropped onto the opposing couch with calculated nonchalance, each movement projecting easy confidence.

“Quite the production you’ve arranged, Mr. Noel. All this elaborate staging just for little old me? Don’t tell me you’ve finally reconsidered that collaboration proposal I’ve been dangling.”

Though Blaine’s voice carried playful notes and his smile appeared carefree, beneath the surface, his senses remained razor -sharp. An instinctive suspicion whispered that this unexpected meeting connected directly to Sadie.

Her instructions had been unambiguous–absolute secrecy regarding her pregnancy. Blaine assumed this mandate extended even to Patrick, the child’s father. One careless word could unravel everything, and he couldn’t afford such a catastrophic misstep.

Noah abruptly ceased the hypnotic motion of his wine and lifted his gaze, his eyes mysterious pools of shadow behind the metallic mask. “Where did you journey today, Mr. Castro?” The question hung in the air, deceptively casual yet unmistakably pointed.

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Chapter 590 Invitation

Blaine’s pulse faltered momentarily. So that explained this charade. Patrick had orchestrated this entire performance specifically to extract information from him.

His thoughts pivoted seamlessly as he mentally retrieved the fabricated narrative he’d carefully constructed for such contingencies.

“Where else would a man like me spend his free time?” He reclined with practiced indolence, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate slowness, embodying careless self–assurance.

“I encountered this absolute vision in Beversea recently–statuesque legs, curves that defy description. Secured her a modest property there. Found myself with unexpected leisure today, so naturally, I made a… personal appearance.”

Blaine arched his eyebrows with exaggerated suggestiveness, his voice deliberately laden with innuendo as he maintained the carefully crafted facade of a carefree playboy.

Noah’s lips twisted into the barest suggestion of a smile, frigid as midwinter frost. “Is that indeed the case?” The words dripped with quiet skepticism.

Beneath Blaine’s chest, his heart hammered wildly with mounting dread, yet not a flicker of distress breached his carefully maintained veneer of casual indifference.

“Cross my heart,” he declared with theatrical solemnity, pressing his palm against his chest in an elaborate pantomime of

earnestness.

His features then rearranged into an expression of conspiratorial entreaty. “Come on, Mr. Noel, keep this between us gentlemen, won’t you? If my grandfather discovers I’ve kept a woman, he’ll personally ensure I never walk properly again!”

Blaine committed fully to the performance, inhabiting every nuance of the harmless, pleasure–seeking libertine he pretended to be.

Noah remained utterly unmoved, his disinterest palpable in the cool silence that followed.

With deliberate precision, he placed the crystal wineglass on the table with a soft clink. “This mysterious enchantress of yours… she wouldn’t by chance answer to the name Tina, would she?” The question sliced through Blaine’s fabrication like a surgeon’s scalpel.

The unexpected question struck like lightning, paralyzing Blaine completely for two excruciating seconds as his mind scrambled to recalibrate.

Why had Patrick abruptly brought up Tina? Had some crucial information slipped through his defenses without his knowledge?

Blaine’s heart performed a sickening lurch against his ribcage as icy perspiration erupted across his spine, dampening his

shirt.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he ruthlessly suppressed the rising tide of fear and schooled his features into practiced neutrality.

“So what if it happens to be her?” He waved his hand dismissively, feigning impatience.

“Now that you know, there’s no need for me to deny it. But Mr. Noel, this whole dramatic ‘invitation‘–don’t you think it’s a bit much? Next time, just send me a text.”

He attempted a casual laugh as he desperately tried to defuse the crackling tension permeating the room.

But Noah pierced him with a glacial stare that effectively silenced any further pretense, his interest in conversation clearly

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<Chapter 590 Invitation

exhausted. With the slightest inclination of his head, he signaled to the waiting guards.

Without hesitation or warning, they surged forward in perfect coordination and seized Blaine’s arms in vicelike grips that permitted no resistance.

Shock paralyzed Blaine momentarily before panic erupted. “Hey, wait! Mr. Noel! What’s the meaning of this? Let’s discuss this rationally! Where are you taking me?” His protests, escalated to frantic shouts as they forcibly removed him from the

room.

In the wake of his departure, oppressive silence reclaimed the cavernous space.

Jack stepped in and positioned himself deferentially in front of Noah. “Boss, shall I investigate Mr. Castro’s activities in Beversea today?” he inquired with professional detachment.

Noah dismissed the suggestion with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he murmured, his voice low and contemplative.

Blaine’s unexplained journey to Beversea already reeked of suspicion and deception.

Since Noah left Beversea, Sadie had maintained a troubling and uncharacteristic silence. The entire Higgins clan exhibited alarming behavior patterns as well. Jarrett had attempted to visit Sadie only to be rebuffed. Then, Nathan had frantically transported an unconscious Sadie from her hotel to the hospital. Rodger had appeared shortly thereafter.

Something sinister undoubtedly lurked beneath the surface of these events. What truth lay hidden behind the facade of normalcy in Beversea?

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