My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 121

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121 A Mother’s Call, A Husband’s Detachment

121 A Mother’s Call, A Husband’s Detachment

“Is that all?” His dismissive tone made it clear he was done with the conversation.

Of course she did. I closed my eyes briefly. “That sounds nice, honey. Is Daddy nearby?

need to talk to him about something important.”

Damien made a noncommittal sound–barely an acknowledgment.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I texted back. “Coco would love to see you too.”

“Yes,” I said. “And… thank you for making sure she attends. I know Coco would rather be with Vivienne and her new puppy, but this means a lot to my grandmother. And to

me.”

Julian shot me a quick glance, clearly gauging my reaction. I kept my face impassive.

“Goodbye, Damien,” I said, ending the call before he could dismiss me further.

“The Dubois have considerable influence,” Oscar continued, oblivious to the absurdity. “And Damien Thorne seems quite… devoted to Vivienne.”

“Yes. I’ll pick her up on Friday evening to prepare for the event.”

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the parking level. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls–composed, professional, put–together. No one looking at me would guess the emotional gymnastics I’d just performed during that brief phone call.

There was a brief pause before Damien’s deep voice filled my ear. “Elara.”

“I’m aware,” I said. “But Clara specifically asked for Coco to be there. You know how important these family traditions are.”

My heart lightened instantly. “Hi, sweetheart. It’s Mom.”

That was something, at least. Seven years ago, a conversation like that would have left me in tears. Now, I could negotiate my daughter’s time with my husband without breaking stride.

“This weekend is my time with Cora,” he replied, using her full name as he always did.

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121 A Mother’s Call, A Husband’s Detachment

I set my phone down and exhaled slowly. These interactions always left me feeling hollow, yet strangely relieved. There had been a time when every word from Damien affected me deeply–when I’d analyze his tone for hours, searching for even the tiniest hint of affection.

“Of course, Grandma. Coco will be there.”

Elara’s POV

“Elara, dear,” Clara’s warm voice answered. “I was beginning to worry.”

Now, I felt nothing but a dull ache. The sharp pain of his indifference had faded into something more manageable over time.

I typed back: “Still breathing. He agreed.”

“Saturday afternoon, two o’clock. At the Vance residence.”

Setting my phone aside, I gathered my belongings. The afternoon sun slanted through the office windows, painting golden rectangles on the floor. Outside, people hurried along the sidewalks, wrapped in their own concerns.

And I would continue building this new life–piece by piece, day by day.

After ending the call, I stared at my phone. I needed to call Damien, but the thought made my fingers feel heavy.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just finalizing plans for my birthday gathering this weekend.” Her voice brightened. “You’ll bring Coco, won’t you? I haven’t seen my

great–granddaughter in ages.”

Progress came in strange forms sometimes.

I gripped the phone tighter. “Thank you.”

“My grandmother’s birthday is this weekend,” I explained. “I need to make sure Coco

attends.”

I couldn’t compete with puppies and constant entertainment. I was just the mother who enforced bedtimes and homework, who insisted on vegetables before dessert.

Just my name. No greeting, no warmth.

Oscar looked like he wanted to say more, but Julian intervened.

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121 A Mother’s Call, A Husband’s Detachment

The meeting wrapped up shortly after. As everyone filed out, I checked my phone. Three missed calls from my grandmother, Clara. I stepped away to return her call.

“YodaVision operates independently,” Julian stated firmly. “We appreciate your input, but our business strategies are our own.”

Tomorrow, I would call Eleanor. I would prepare for Clara’s birthday. I would work on YodaVision’s latest project.

I hesitated. “Actually, I need to make sure you understand something else.”

As I headed toward the parking garage, my phone chimed with an incoming email. A notification from Coco’s school–parent–teacher conferences next week. I made a mental note to coordinate with Damien. Another awkward conversation to look

forward to.

This silence was peaceful. It was mine.

“Coco needs to stay for the entire celebration. She can’t leave halfway through to visit Vivienne,” I said firmly. “My grandmother deserves her full attention for one afternoon.”

“Oh. Hi, Mom.” Her tone shifted, becoming slightly guarded.

“What is it?” His tone sharpened with impatience.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, the sky had darkened to deep indigo. My house -my new house, purchased after moving out of the Thorne mansion–welcomed me with warm lights I’d set on timers. No one waited inside for me, but it was mine. Every piece of furniture, every color on the walls–all chosen by me, for me.

My thoughts drifted to Coco’s excitement about Vivienne’s puppy. It was just another small reminder of how Vivienne had seamlessly inserted herself into every aspect of my family life. The perfect girlfriend, the fun “almost stepmother” with glamorous surprises and no responsibilities.

“Fine. I’ll have her ready.”

If she could do it in an era when divorced women were social pariahs, surely I could navigate my own path forward now.

Julian approached, coffee in hand. “Everything alright?”

My stomach tightened. This weekend was supposed to be Damien’s time with Coco,

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121 A Mother’s Call, A Husband’s Detachment

and lately, those weekends inevitably included Vivienne.

“Crystal,” he said coldly. “Anything else?”

“I assume you’ll want me to deliver your gift to Clara?” I added, knowing he wouldn’t attend himself but would send something expensive and impersonal.

Inside, I kicked off my heels and padded to the kitchen. The house was quiet, but not lonely. There was a difference, I’d learned. Loneliness was what I’d felt in a mansion full of people who either ignored me or wished I didn’t exist.

“He’s right here.” I heard shuffling, then Coco’s voice again, further away. “Dad, Mom wants to talk to you.”

My phone buzzed with a text from Julian: “Survived?”

Another wordless hum was his only response.

“Is that clear?” I pressed when he didn’t respond.

Julian replied instantly: “That’s something, at least. Drinks later? You look like you

could use one.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and I could almost see him weighing his options.

Once Julian left, I dialed Damien’s number, steeling myself. After three rings, it wasn’t

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