My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 133

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133 An Unsettling Scent, A Calculated Offer

133 An Unsettling Scent, A Calculated Offer

“Elara.”

“Why would you help with my uncle’s project?” I asked bluntly.

One thing was clear: I couldn’t trust any of them. Not Damien, not Vivienne, and certainly not Beck Fairchild with his calculated smile and convenient offer of help.

The casual use of my first name grated on my nerves. This man had been Damien’s employee for years, always keeping a respectful distance. Now he spoke as if we were old friends.

“Is Cora gone already?” she asked, looping her arm through mine.

“Yes. Damien just picked her up.”

“Mom?”

My guard went up instantly. Uncle Victor’s project was still in its early stages, not something that should be on Beck Fairchild’s radar.

I didn’t believe him for a second. Nothing in Damien’s orbit operated independently of

him.

My throat tightened. “I love you too, Coco. So much.”

We walked back inside, where the party had dwindled to just family and a few close friends. Uncle Victor was deep in conversation with a colleague by the fireplace. Beck hovered nearby, his attention seemingly fixed on their discussion, though his eyes

flicked toward me as I entered.

And more importantly, what was Damien’s role in all this?

She wrapped her arms around my neck, surprising me with a fierce hug. Her soft hair tickled my cheek, smelling of the strawberry shampoo she loved. I held her close, greedy for these precious seconds.

“Have a good evening, Mrs. Thorne.” He turned and walked away, his posture relaxed as if he’d accomplished exactly what he’d intended.

“Coco? What are you doing here? I thought-”

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133 An Unsettling Scent, A Calculated Offer

“What is it?”

The request was odd. If Shanice wanted to give me something, she could have done so- when I picked up or dropped off Cora. Why involve Beck?

I paused. Shanice was Damien’s housekeeper, a kind woman who had always been friendly to me, even when things between Damien and me were at their worst.

She nodded solemnly, as if we’d made an important pact. Then she turned and scampered away, unicorn dragging behind her.

Elara’s POV

“Mr. Fairchild,” I acknowledged coolly.

“I forgot my backpack,” she said, looking sheepish. “Daddy’s waiting outside.”

“I should head inside. It’s cold out here,” I said, turning away.

The sound of approaching footsteps made me turn. My grandmother emerged from

the house, concern etched across her face.

He held out a business card. I stared at it for a moment before reluctantly taking it, if

only to end this conversation.

“I have some connections that might be useful. People who would be interested in providing resources, funding…” He let the implication hang in the air.

“I appreciate the offer, but my uncle has his own contacts.” I took a step toward the

door.

“Think about it,” Beck said quickly. “This could be beneficial for everyone involved. The project needs connections your uncle doesn’t have.”

“Did Damien send you?” I asked directly.

“And you’re offering this out of the goodness of your heart?” The skepticism in my voice was unmistakable.

“I love you, Mom,” she whispered.

My phone buzzed. A text from Julian about tomorrow’s meeting at YodaVision. Work never stopped. I slipped the device back into my pocket without responding. It could wait until morning.

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133 An Unsettling Scent, A Calculated Offer

I slipped the card into my pocket, my mind racing. The scent of Vivienne’s perfume on Damien, Beck’s unexpected offer – they felt connected somehow, pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t quite seè.

I stood frozen, the card cold between my fingers. The interaction left me with a sense of foreboding. Beck wasn’t acting on his own that much was certain. But what was the real motivation behind this sudden interest in my uncle’s work?

Vivienne’s perfume.

I walked back into the house, the weight of distrust settling over me like a heavy cloak.

“Please, call me Beck.” He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “I wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Elara? Come inside, dear. It’s freezing out here.”

“This will only take a moment,” he persisted. “Shanice wanted me to tell you she has something for you.”

I watched the car pull away, my nails digging into my palms. Some things never

changed.

I forced a smile. “I’ll try.”

Beck shrugged. “She didn’t say, just asked me to arrange for you two to meet. Coffee, perhaps?”

I turned to find Damien’s driver, Beck, standing behind me. His expression was carefully neutral, but something calculating lurked in his eyes.

Beck’s smile widened. “Let’s just say I recognize a good opportunity when I see one. Your uncle’s work has potential, but he needs the right backing.”

I followed her to the front door, watching as she ran down the path to where Damien stood waiting by his car. The porch light illuminated his tall figure, casting sharp shadows across his face. He looked up as Cora approached, his expression softening in that way it only did for her.

Cora’s voice startled me. I spun around, heart racing, to find her standing in the doorway, clutching her unicorn plushie.

My stomach clenched. My earlier suspicion had been correct. After our conversation

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133 An Unsettling Scent, A Calculated Offer

at the banquet, he’d gone to her. The evidence clung to him like an invisible mark only I could detect.

She squeezed my arm gently. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you stay the night? Your old room is always ready.”

“Great.” Beck’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s something else, actually.”

“I might take you up on that,” I admitted.

He laughed softly. “I’m a businessman, Elara. I see mutual benefit.”

“Think about it, Elara,” he continued, his tone softening. “I’m offering help with no strings attached. Just consider it and call me when you’ve decided.”

She pulled back, her small hands framing my face. “Don’t be sad, okay?”

“I’ll call her,” I said cautiously.

“What about it?” I kept my voice even.

The thought was tempting. My empty apartment held no appeal tonight.

Beck’s expression faltered slightly. “Mr. Thorne has nothing to do with this.”

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