My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 108

108 Invitations Unanswered, Favors Unasked

108 Invitations Unanswered, Favors Unasked

“Just think about it,” she squeezed my hand. “It’s for Clara.”

“I’ll be staying in Cora’s room tonight,” I informed him, keeping my voice neutral. “I promised to help with her science project.”

When I dropped her off, her goodbye was quick, her mind already on the school day ahead. I watched her disappear through the doors, wondering when exactly my little girl had started slipping away from me.

“That’s fine.” I turned to leave but paused. “Would you mind informing your parents? I’ve tried reaching Sabrina, but she’s not taking my calls.”

I called Chloe during my lunch break.

Chloe linked her arm through mine as we exited the third high–end boutique. “What

spa weekend?” about an experience instead of a thing? Tickets to the theater? A

“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”

I stood silently in the doorway, contemplating whether this small favor was worth the inevitable reminder of my place in his world. The charity auction, the perfect gift for Clara, the possibility of rejection–all hung in the balance as I watched him work, unaware of my presence or the request I couldn’t bring myself to make.

Elara’s POV

I glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to help you study tonight?” When I arrived home later that evening, I was surprised to find Damien’s car in the driveway. He rarely returned before nine on weeknights.

The thought of asking Damien for anything made my stomach knot. After years of being dismissed and overlooked, I’d finally found my footing, my independence. Going to him now felt like a step backward.

Hannah greeted me at the door. “Good evening, Mrs. Thorne. Cora is already asleep. She was tired after her tutor session.”

108 Invitations Unanswered, Favors Unasked

“Because Arthur asked me to deliver them personally,” I replied evenly. “Just like Clara

did.”

“In his study.”

“Damien could get you in.” She rushed on before I could protest. “I know things are tense, but you’re still legally his wife. The Thornes always receive invitations to these

events.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She looked out the window. “Dad hired a tutor. He says she’s the best

in the city.”

He nodded without looking up. “Fine.”

“I know!” Chloe suddenly straightened. “The charity auction next week at the St. Regis. There’s always unique items there–artwork, vintage jewelry, experiences you can’t buy elsewhere.”

“Perfect. Thank Chloe.”

you,

I texted her instead: “I have Arthur’s birthday invitation. Please let me know how I can get it to you.”

“That sounds perfect,” I agreed, relief washing over me. “But isn’t it invitation only?” “Hey, stranger,” she answered cheerfully. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Damien’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. “I’ll see that they get it.”

The invitation for Arthur Thorne’s seventieth birthday felt like a weight in my hands. I’d already delivered Clara’s invitations yesterday, and now it was time to ensure the Thornes received theirs. Despite our impending divorce, maintaining cordial relations – with Damien’s family remained important–at least for Cora’s sake.

In the past, I would have lingered, trying to convince him to attend, to make an effort for family. I would have reminded him how important these gatherings were, how much his presence mattered. But those days were gone. If he chose not to come, it was no longer my burden to bear.

Chloe grimaced slightly. “Yes, but…” She hesitated.

108 Invitations Unanswered, Favors Unasked

I thanked her and hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. The charity auction invitation was my best chance at finding something meaningful for Clara. But asking for Damien’s help meant opening myself to his indifference once again.

After hanging up, I tried Sabrina Thorne’s number again. Arthur’s wife had never warmed to me, always viewing me as beneath their family’s status despite Eleanor’s acceptance. The call went straight to voicemail–again.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why not mail it to them?”

“She just returned from a month–long European cruise,” I reminded her. “And she has a standing box at the opera house.”

“I’m running out of options,” I admitted, exhaustion creeping into my voice.

Cora’s excitement dimmed slightly. “I know, Mom.”

“But what?”

The next morning, I drove Cora to school, listening to her chatter about her upcoming playdate with Vivienne.

With a deep breath, I made my way to his study. The door was partially open, warm light spilling into the hallway. Damien sat at his desk, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up as he focused on his computer screen. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to remember how I’d once found that sight endearing–his concentration, his dedication. The dismissal was familiar–his signature goodbye. I closed the door quietly behind

me,

the interaction as cold and brief as most of our marriage had been.

“Where’s Mr. Thorne?” I asked, setting down my purse.

No response.

Now I just felt the familiar ache of being an afterthought in his life.

“I don’t know, Chloe.”

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