My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 4
Chapter 4: A Familiar Face, A Future Feared
Cora clutched her phone tightly, her thumb hovering over her mother’s contact. She had already ended the call once, and now guilt gnawed at her. Dad and Vivienne were chatting in the next room, their voices a low murmur through the hotel wall.
She flopped back on the bed with a sigh. Mom would definitely ask questions. And if Cora mentioned Vivienne was coming back with them, Mom would get that tight look on her face—the one where her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Her phone buzzed suddenly. Mom calling back.
Panic flared in Cora’s chest. She silenced the phone and shoved it under her pillow. The screen glowed briefly before going dark.
“Cora? Are you packed?” Her father’s voice called from the doorway.
She sat up quickly. “Almost done, Dad.”
Damien stepped into the room, his tall figure casting a shadow across the carpet. “Good. Vivienne’s driver will be here soon.”
“I can’t wait to get home,” Cora said, excitement bubbling up again. “And Vivi’s really going to visit us there?”
Her father’s face softened slightly. “Yes, she’ll be staying at the house for a while.”
“Mom won’t like that,” Cora mumbled before she could stop herself.
A flicker of irritation crossed Damien’s face. “Your mother doesn’t dictate who visits our home.”
Something about his tone made Cora look down. She knew things weren’t good between her parents. They barely talked anymore, and when they did, the air felt cold and heavy.
“Have you spoken to your mother today?” Damien asked, his voice neutral.
Cora shook her head quickly. “No. She’s probably busy with work stuff.”
He nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. “Finish packing. We leave for the airport in thirty minutes.”
When he left, Cora pulled out her phone again. Three missed calls from Mom. She bit her lip, then turned the phone off completely.
—
Elara stared at her silent phone, anxiety building with each unanswered call. It wasn’t like Cora to call and hang up. What if something was wrong?
She paced her apartment, debating whether to call Damien. Their agreement had been minimal contact except regarding Cora, but surely this qualified.
Before she could decide, her phone rang. Hope surged until she saw Mrs. Gable’s name on the screen.
“Hello, Mrs. Gable,” she answered quickly. “Have you heard from Cora? She called me but hung up, and now she’s not answering.”
“Miss Cora is fine, ma’am,” Mrs. Gable assured her. “I just spoke with her. They’re preparing to leave for the airport.”
Relief flooded through Elara. “Thank you. Did she say why she called me?”
“No, ma’am. But children are fickle with their attentions,” Mrs. Gable said kindly. “Will you be needing anything from the house today?”
Elara shook her head, then remembered she was on the phone. “No, thank you. I’m all settled in the apartment now.”
After hanging up, she walked to her window. The city sprawled below, busy and indifferent to her worries. She’d made the right choice leaving, she reminded herself. But moments like these—when the distance between her and Cora felt vast—made her doubt.
Her doorbell rang, startling her from her thoughts.
Her neighbor, Clara Hayes, stood in the hallway holding a plate of cookies. “Thought you might like something homemade,” she said with a warm smile.
Elara accepted the plate gratefully. “That’s very kind of you.”
Clara waved dismissively. “It’s nothing. I remember how it was starting over on my own after my divorce. Sometimes a friendly face makes all the difference.”
They chatted for a few minutes before Clara excused herself. Elara placed the cookies on her counter, oddly touched by the simple gesture. It had been ages since someone had done something nice for her without an agenda.
—
Later that afternoon, Elara’s phone chimed with an email notification. Crestwood College was celebrating its centennial next week. Her alma mater. The place where she’d first fallen in love with artificial intelligence—and where she’d met Julian.
On impulse, she decided to visit the campus. Perhaps walking those familiar paths would help quiet the restlessness inside her.
The university hadn’t changed much. Ivy still clung to the old brick buildings. Students lounged on the grass, absorbed in their devices or conversations. Elara felt a pang of nostalgia as she passed the computer science building where she’d spent countless hours coding and theorizing.
“Elara? Elara Vance?”
She turned at the sound of her name. A tall man with dark-rimmed glasses was staring at her in disbelief.
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