My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 77

77 Gifts, Guilt, and Guarded Words

Dinner that evening was an intimate affair with st Uncle Victor, Gran, Cora, and me. Aunt Amelia had been delayed in Paris but would arrive the following morning.

“I’ll call if anything comes up,” I said, filling the awkward silence.

Her bottom lip jutted out in the beginning of a pout. “But Great–Grandma Clara doesn’t have the new dollhouse.”

Elara’s POV

I smiled at her excitement. “Gran must have had it redone.”

I decided not to wait for Damien. After breakfast, I packed Cora’s things while she played in her room. The events of the morning had left me drained. His kiss, meant for Vivienne, was a stark reminder of where his heart truly belonged.

“Uncle Victor, I’m your only great–niece,” Cora pointed out.

My daughter sat cross–legged on her floor, surrounded by dolls in elaborate setups. “Mommy, I’m not done playing!”

I glanced toward the study where Damien had disappeared after breakfast. The door remained firmly closed.

“For the drive,” she explained as my daughter peeked inside to find new coloring books and scented markers.

“Some tech mogul,” Gran replied. “Foreign, I believe. There’s talk of completely renovating the old place.”

She opened them methodically, her expression revealing nothing as she inspected each item. The cashmere throw earned a slight nod of approval before being set aside. The tea and chocolates were passed to the housekeeper with instructions to store

them.

“Not this time, princess. I have work to finish.” He crouched down to her level. “Be good for Mommy, okay?”

Once they’d gone, Victor refilled our wine glasses, his expression growing serious.

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As we finished dessert, Cora yawned widely, her eyelids drooping.

“The same,” I answered, not elaborating. Gran had never approved of my marriage, had- warned me about Damien’s true nature fro he start. I didn’t need her to say “I told

you so.”

“I’ll take her up,” I offered, rising from my seat.

Victor opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes suddenly shifted to something behind me. His expression changed subtly as he gave an almost imperceptible shake of

his head.

“Change can be good,” Gran said pointedly. “Sometimes the most beautiful gardens grow where old structures have been torn down.”

Eleanor studied me with knowing eyes. “You’re considerate, dear. Always thinking of others before yourself. I’m sure Damien appreciates the space after his long business trip.”

I caught his meaning immediately. Clara’s footsteps sounded behind us.

After Eleanor left, I finished packing and went to collect Cora.

“But you lost millions,” I protested.

“How are things?” Gran asked, her shrewd eyes missing nothing.

This seemed to appease her, and she carefully selected which dolls would make the journey.

As our car crunched up the gravel driveway, Cora pressed her face against the window. “Mommy, look! The fountain has mermaids now!”

“I made it back elsewhere,” he assured me with a small smile. “The Vances aren’t so easily defeated.”

“Still, he’s my husband. His actions reflect on me.”

“What are these?” I asked as the packages were placed on the bed.

Eleanor waved dismissively. “He’s on a call with Tokyo. I’ll let him know you’ve gone.”

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Gran’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the sudden shift in conversation. But she said nothing, taking her seat with the graceful poise that had always defined her.

Downstairs, the staff loaded our bags into waiting car. Eleanor presented Cora with a small gift bag.

“She has the garden playhouse you love,” I reminded her. “With the real miniature furniture.”

Cora threw her arms around his neck. “I will! Can we go to the park when I come

back?”

“Thank you, Grandma!” Cora hugged Eleanor’s legs tightly.

I glanced out the window toward the neighboring estate. Construction equipment dotted the grounds, and workers moved purposefully around the property.

“The gardener says we’ll have a record bloom this summer,” I replied smoothly, turning to smile at my grandmother as she rejoined us.

Gran’s eyebrow arched as she examined the packages. “How… generous.”

Cora had already disappeared into the garden, leaving us adults to talk freely.

“Of course.” He kissed her forehead before standing.

“Nothing could keep us away,” I assured her, presenting Eleanor’s gifts. “From Eleanor.”

“Any word on the new owners?” I asked, grateful for the change in subject.

Damien nodded, his gaze finally settling on me. “Drive safely.”

“Let me,” Gran insisted. “I want to show her the new books I got for her room.”

Damien nodded, already reaching for his phone as it buzzed in his pocket. “Have a good weekend.”

“You’re leaving already?” he asked, his eyes flicking between Cora and me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay another day?” Eleanor appeared in the doorway, her elegant figure leaning against the frame.

“All the more reason you’re my favorite.” He winked, setting her down. “Your great–grandmother is in the solarium.”

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77 Gifts, Guilt, and Guarded Words

The Lawrences‘ estate had stood vacant for years, its once–grand Victorian

architecture falling into disrepair. I’d played there as a child, exploring the overgrown gardens with my cousins.

Victor leaned forward. “Listen to me. Damien Thorne has been using business to wage personal vendettas for years. I knew the risks when I backed Vivienne’s project.”

“I’ll make sure she gets them,” I promised, though I knew most would end up in Gran’s donation pile by next week.

As if summoned by our conversation, the study door opened. Damien emerged, his expression unreadable as he approached.

“Since you’re headed to Clara’s,” Eleanor continued, “would you mind taking these along?” She gestured to a staff member who appeared with several elegantly wrapped boxes.

“It will be strange having new neighbors after all these years,” I mused.

“Gran’s rosebushes are looking spectacular this year,” he said loudly, his tone abruptly conversational. “Don’t you think?”

“Just a few things for Clara.” Eleanor smiled warmly. “Some tea from Japan, Belgian chocolates, that cashmere throw she admired last year.”

The question hung in the air. Would I return to this house that had never felt like home?

Clara Bellweather’s estate sprawled across ten acres of manicured grounds. The imposing stone mansion had been in our family for generations, its grandeur rivaling even the Thornes‘ wealth.

“I’m not sure yet,” I answered honestly. “I’ll let Damien know.”

Victor’s company had suffered significant losses after Damien blocked several key partnerships–retaliation for Victor’s support of Vivienne’s career advancement in a competing firm.

“Perfect.” Eleanor clasped her hands together. “Do you need help with anything else?”

We found Gran surrounded by her prized orchids, looking regal in a silk blouse and

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tailored pants despite being in her seventies.

I zipped Cora’s small suitcase closed before answering. “Gran is expecting us. Besides, I think it’s better this way.”

I merely nodded, not wanting to correct her misunderstanding. Let her believe I was leaving to give Damien space, rather than to protect what remained of my wounded

heart.

“There’s my favorite niece,” he said, embracing me tightly. “And my favorite great–niece!” He scooped Cora up, making her giggle.

“No, thank you. We’re almost ready.”

Our eyes met over our daughter’s head. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze–regret? Longing? Whatever it was vanished quickly, replaced by his usual detached expression.

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