My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 19

19 The Last Call and ley Recognition

Elara’s POVO

The sound of engines and cheers filled the air as Elara watched the race unfold before her. In the VIP section across the track, Damien stood with little Cora perched on his shoulders. His friend Lucas Sterling stood beside them, all three completely absorbed

in the race.

Vivienne–or “Vixen” as the crowd called her–was clearly in the lead. Her red car hugged each curve with precision that even Elara had to admire.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Ethan said, his eyes fixed on the track.

Elara nodded absently, her attention drawn to her husband and daughter. Even from this distance, she could see the excitement on their faces. Cora bounced on Damien’s shoulders, waving a little red flag frantically.

A family moment. Just not with her.

“I should call him,” Elara murmured, almost to herself.

“What?” Ethan asked, leaning closer to hear her over the crowd.

“Nothing.” She pulled her phone from her purse, staring at the screen. Her thumb hovered over Damien’s contact. One last attempt. One last try to reach him.

She pressed call before she could talk herself out of it.

Through her binoculars, she watched as Damien shifted Cora’s weight on his shoulders. His phone must have vibrated because he reached into his pocket, glanced at the screen, and immediately declined the call. Without a moment’s hesitation, his

attention returned to the race–to Vivienne.

Elara lowered her phone slowly. She should have expected this. Why did it still hurt?

“Elara? Are you okay?” Ethan asked, finally noticing her silence.

She put the binoculars down and turned away from the race. “I’m fine.”

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The crowd erupted into cheers. Vivienne had just taken another daring turn, increasing her lead. Elara didn’t bother to watch. She’d seen enough.

“She’s going to win again!” Ethan shouted excitedly. “That’s five straight victories!”

Within minutes, the race concluded with Vivienne crossing the finish line well ahead of her competitors. The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, declaring Vixen the champion once more.

Ethan groaned beside her. “Damn, now everyone’s going to crowd around her for autographs. I was hoping to get one this time.”

“Does she not usually sign autographs?” Elara asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Rarely. She usually disappears right after the race,” Ethan explained, disappointment evident in his voice. “Only the VIPS get close to her.”

Of course. VIPs like Damien. And Cora.

Elara’s phone rang, pulling her attention from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw Victoria Sterling’s name.

“Hello, Victoria,” she answered, stepping slightly away from the crowd noise.

“Is Ethan with you?” Victoria’s voice came through clearly, concern evident. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Yes, he’s right here. We’re at the racetrack. I was just about to bring him home.”

Ethan glanced over at the mention of his name, grimacing when he realized it was his

mother.

“Thank goodness,” Victoria sighed. “Please tell him to call me when you leave. And thank you for finding him, Elara.”

“Of course. We’ll be leaving shortly.”

After ending the call, Elara turned to Ethan. “Your mother wants you to call her.”

Ethan rolled his eyes but nodded. “I need to use the restroom first. Want to grab a drink with my friends before we head back? They’re by the concession stand.”

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“I think I’ll pass,” Elara replied, her social energy completely drained. “I’ll wait for you here.”

After Ethan left, Elara made her way to the ladies‘ room. The hallways were crowded with race fans discussing Vivienne’s victory, her name on everyone’s lips. Even here, she couldn’t escape her half–sister’s shadow.

The restroom provided a brief respite from the noise and commotion. Elara splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the sting of Damien’s rejected call. Her reflection stared back at her–tired eyes, forced smile. How long had she looked this way?

Taking a deep breath, Elara composed herself and headed back to meet Ethan. The corridor was still packed with people, forcing her to weave her way through the crowd.

As she rounded a corner, she collided with someone coming from the opposite

direction.

“I’m sorry-” she began, stepping back.

“Watch where you’re-” The man stopped mid–sentence.

Elara looked up and immediately recognized Beck Marshall, one of Damien’s oldest friends and business associates. She’d met him numerous times at Thorne functions

over the years.

“Beck,” she said, offering a polite smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Beck’s expression, already indifferent, turned noticeably colder when he recognized her. His eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening.

“Elara,” he said, his tone flat and dismissive.

Seven years. Seven years of marriage to Damien, and this was how his friends still treated her–like an intruder, an unwelcome presence in their circle. The contrast between this and how they had immediately embraced Vivienne was stark and painful.

“Are you here with Damien?” she asked, trying to maintain the conversation despite his

obvious disinterest.

“Yes.” The single word response hung between them, offering no opening for further

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19 The Last Call and Icy Recognition

discussion.

Beck glanced over her shoulder, clearly looking for an escape route. His body language screamed discomfort. It was as if standing too close to her might somehow

contaminate him.

“I should go,” he said, already shifting to move past her. “Damien’s waiting.”

Of course he was. Waiting to celebrate with Vivienne, not looking for his wife.

“Of course,” Elara replied, keeping her voice steady. “Please don’t let me keep you.”

Beck nodded curtly and brushed past her without another word, his shoulder nearly clipping hers in his haste to get away.

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