My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 42

42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions

42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions.

Elara tucked Cora into bed Thursday night, smoothing back her daughter’s dark curls. She had come straight from the office, still in her formal attire, but Cora didn’t seem to mind.

“Will you make pancakes tomorrow?” Cora asked sleepily, her small fingers clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.

“Of course, Elara promised, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever my Coco wants.”

The next morning, true to her word, Elara was in the kitchen early. She whisked the pancake batter with practiced ease, adding a dash of cinnamon–Cora’s favorite. The familiar routine felt comforting after weeks of hotel living and takeout meals.

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Cora bounded into the kitchen, still in her pink pajamas. “You’re really making them!”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Elara smiled, pouring batter onto the hot griddle.

She spent Friday making all of Cora’s favorite foods. For lunch, grilled cheese with the crusts cut off. For dinner, chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs with sweet potato. fries. Simple meals that made her daughter’s eyes light up.

That evening, Elara’s phone rang. It was her grandmother, Clara Bellweather.

“Elara, dear, I was hoping you might bring Cora over tomorrow. It’s been too long since I’ve seen my great–granddaughter.”

Elara glanced at Cora, who was engrossed in a cartoon. “We’d love to, Grandmother.

Would dinner work?”

“Perfect,” Clara replied. “And do stay the night. Your old room is always ready.”

Saturday afternoon, Elara packed a small overnight bag for herself and Cora. The Vance family home wasn’t far–a thirty–minute drive from the Thorne estate. As they pulled into the long, tree–lined driveway, Cora pressed her face against the car window.

“Is Great–Grandma making cookies?” she asked hopefully.

Elara laughed. “Probably. She always does when you visit.”

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42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions

Clara was waiting on the front porch, elegant as always in a cashmere sweater despite her eighty years. Her face lit up when she spotted Cora.

“There’s my little princess!” she exclaimed as Cora ran up the steps and into her arms.

“Great–Grandma! Did you make cookies?”

“Double chocolate chip, just for you,” Clara confirmed, her eyes twinkling. She looked over Cora’s head at Elara. “And how are you, my dear?”

“I’m fine, Grandmother, Elara replied automatically.

Clara’s shrewd gaze suggested she didn’t quite believe it, but she simply said, “Well, come in. Dinner will be ready soon.”

The evening passed pleasantly. Clara had prepared a feast–roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans with almonds. Cora charmed her great–grandmother with stories about school and her karate lessons, carefully omitting any mention of Vivienne or the tension at home.

After dinner, they played board games in the living room until Cora’s eyelids began to droop. Elara carried her upstairs to the guest room they would share and tucked her in, just as she had the night before..

“Sweet dreams, Coco, she whispered, but Cora was already asleep.

Elara rejoined her grandmother in the living room. Clara handed her a glass of wine without asking, and they sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“You seem different, Clara observed finally. “More at peace.”

Elara took a sip of wine, considering. “I think I am. At least, I’m getting there.”

“Good,” Clara nodded. “You deserve happiness, Elara. You always have.”

The next morning, Elara woke early. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting at warm glow across the guest room. Cora was still fast asleep, her dark curls spread across the pillow.

Elara slipped out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She found all the ingredients she needed and began mixing pancake batter, just as she had done on Friday. There was something therapeutic about the simple act of cooking–measuring, mixing, creating something

With her own hands.

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She was flipping the first batch when Clara appeared, wrapped in a silk robe.

“You’re up early” her grandmother commented, heading straight for the coffee pot.

“Old habits,” Elara replied with a small smile. “I wanted to make breakfast before Cora wakes up.”

Clara watched her granddaughter expertly flip a pancake. “You never used to enjoy cooking this much. I remember when you could barely boil water.”

“Things change, Elara said simply. “I found I like having control over at least one small part of my day.”

Clara nodded, understanding more than Elara had said. “The coffee’s good. Did you

make it?”

“Yes, I found your favorite beans in the pantry.”

“Another new skill,” Clara observed. “Damien Thorne’s loss is clearly the culinary world’s gain.”

Elara laughed, the sound surprising even herself. It felt good to laugh about Damien, rather than cry.

A small noise caught her attention. Cora had left her tablet on the kitchen counter the night before, and it had just lit up with a notification. Elara glanced at it out of habit.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the message preview:

*From Vivienne: Let’s keep this our little secret. Meet me at 11 today at the park. Don’t tell your mom.*

Elara carefully kept her expression neutral, turning back to the pancakes as if she hadn’t seen anything. A moment later, Cora padded into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead, Elara greeted her. “Pancakes are almost ready.”

Cora’s eyes widened when she spotted her tablet on the counter. She rushed over and snatched it up, quickly tapping at the screen to clear the notification.

“Everything okay?” Elara asked casually.

“Uh–huh,” Cora nodded too quickly. “Just a game update”

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42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions.

Elara exchanged a glance with Clara, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They sat down to breakfast, Cora devouring her pancakes with the enthusiasm only a

seven–year–old could muster.

“These are even better than Friday’s!” she declared, maple syrup dripping down her chin.

Clara dabbed at the syrup with a napkin. “Your mother has become quite the chef.”

“Mom makes the best pancakes,” Cora agreed. Then, as if remembering something important, she put down her fork. “Um, Mom? Dad’s coming back today.”

Elara kept her expression carefully neutral. “Oh? I thought he wasn’t due back until Tuesday.”

“He, um, changed his plans,” Cora said, avoiding eye contact. “He’s picking me up today.”

“What time?” Elara asked.

Cora hesitated. “Around eleven, I think.”

It was a lie. A clumsy, transparent lie from a child who had never had to be deceptive before. The realization stung more than Elara expected–not just that Cora was lying, but that she was doing it for Vivienne.

“Well, that’s perfect timing,” Elara said smoothly. “I’ll drop you off on my way back to the hotel.”

Panic flashed across Cora’s face. “No! i mean, you don’t have to. Dad said he’d send Martin to get me.”

“Martin will be picking you up here?” Clara interjected, her tone sharp. No love was lost between Clara Bellweather and the Thorne family chauffeur, who had once kept her waiting for an hour at a charity function.

“Yes,” Cora said, relief evident in her voice. “So Mom can stay here with Great–Grandma. You guys can have a nice day together.”

you,

Clara’s eyes met Elara’s over Cora’s head. The older woman’s expression softened. “That would be lovely, wouldn’t it, Elara? We haven’t had a proper visit in too long”

Elara recognized her grandmother’s attempt to give her an out–a way to avoid what

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42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions

would clearly be an uncomfortable confrontation. “Yes, that sounds nice,” she agreed. “I’d love to stay a bit longer.”

Cora beamed, clearly relieved her plan was working. “Great! I’ll go get ready.”

As soon as Cora left the kitchen, Clara leaned forward. “What was that about?”

“Vivienne sent her a message,” Elara explained quietly. “She’s meeting her at the park at eleven. That’s why she lied about Damien coming back.”

Clara’s expression darkened. “That woman has no boundaries. Using a child for her games–it’s despicable.”

“I know,” Elara sighed. “But confronting Cora would only make things worse right now. She’s clearly excited about this secret meeting”

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