My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 78

78 A Child’s Weekend Plea

“Tell Daddy I made a new drawing for him,” she

led as I reached the door.

“That important people have important things to do.” She adjusted a doll’s tiny hat. “And that when I grow up, I’ll be important too.”

He shrugged. “For a Bellweather celebration, it practically qualifies as intimate.”

She trudged up the stairs without another word, her dejected posture twisting the knife of maternal guilt deeper.

“You should go home,” he said, noticing my stifled yawn. “Get some actual sleep in an

actual bed.

“Mrs. Winters said Daddy has to go away for the weekend. For business.”

I sighed, already seeing where this was heading. “Gran would prefer something simpler.”

“Just picking up some documents,” I explained. “Cora’s upstairs.”

My breath caught. Of course. Even in Damien’s absence, Vivienne’s influence lingered. I closed my eyes, fighting for composure.

“Nonsense,” Amelia waved dismissively. “Mother deserves to be celebrated properly. Eighty years! We should have live music, maybe that string quartet she likes.”

Thursday evening, Julian ordered takeout as we worked late again.

She nodded enthusiastically. “She showed me how to make pressed flowers! And Uncle Victor taught me a magic trick with cards.”

“No.” There was a pause. “Mom, Dad won’t be home on the weekend. When are you coming back home?”

Downstairs, I was grabbing my purse when I heard the front door open. Damien entered, his suit immaculate despite the late hour.

The vulnerability in her question made my heart clench. I had been so focused on maintaining my distance from Damien, on building my independence, that I’d neglected to consider how my absence affected Cora.

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I smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

After she left, Amelia turned to me with a determined expression. “Twenty–five will work, but we’ll need to be selective with the g st list.”

“I’m quite aware of my age, Amelia.” Clara’s tone was mild but firm. “I don’t need reminding with an extravagant affair.”

Clara’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the slight tightening around her eyes.

“A quiet dinner. Here, with family.” Her gaze swept around the table. “Just the people

who matter most.”

“Elara.” His tone was gentle but firm. “We’ve known each other too long for that to

work.”

“But Mother-” Amelia began.

I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Jules.”

“We’ll see, sweetheart. Let me talk to your dad first, okay?”

“Just dedicated to the project,” I deflected.

I nodded, unsurprised. “I’ll just be gathering some papers from my office. We won’t be staying long.”

An awkward silence fell. I cleared my throat. “I was just suggesting we ask what you

might prefer.”.

He studied me over his container of noodles. “Is everything okay? You’ve been practically living here this week.”

Victor nodded enthusiastically. “And we could fly in that chef from Milan she admires.”

“I know,” she mumbled against my shoulder.

When I went upstairs to find Cora, she was sitting cross–legged on her bedroom floor, methodically arranging her dolls in a circle.

Amelia’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful idea! We should host it at the lake house. The gardens will be perfect in full bloom.”

“Mother, turning eighty is significant,” Amelia pressed. “We should commemorate it

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properly.”

“Mom.” Her small voice sounded hesitant. “When are you coming home?”

“Good.” I moved toward the door. “Goodnight, Damien.”

“Yes. There’s a project deadline tomorrow.”

“Grandmother’s,” I corrected automatically. “It was fine. She’s planning her birthday celebration.”

I frowned at the data scrolling across my screen. “What if we reconfigure the cooling system? Maybe split it into dual channels instead of the singular pathway?”

“Love you too, Coco.”

“Yes, but it’s better than releasing a product that overheats after thirty minutes of use.” I tapped my pen against the table, mind racing with potential solutions.

Before I could argue further, Aunt Amelia swept into the room in a cloud of expensive perfume. “Did I hear something about a party?”

I sighed, setting down my fork. “Home is… complicated right now.”

“I will, if I see him.”

“No, ma’am. He called earlier to say he’d be delayed.”

“They’re having a meeting,” she corrected seriously. “About why parents are never home.”

“Like you do? Is that why you’re always at your office now?”

Victor leaned forward. “What would you prefer, Gran?”

“She’s turning eighty. We should do something special.”

“What about it?” I reached for my own cup, inhaling the rich aroma.

We all turned to see Clara standing in the doorway, elegant as ever in her sage green pantsuit.

Elara’s POV

I had no good answer. Instead, I pulled her into a húg, breathing in her sweet, little–girl

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scent. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

She fell silent, staring out the window as we turned into the long driveway of Thorne Manor. The imposing gray stone structure loomed ahead, windows glowing with warm light that belied the emotional coldness inside.

“I was thinking a small garden party. Fifty people, maybe sixty. Her closest friends, family, some of her former colleagues.”

“Twenty, perhaps twenty–five.”

His expression was unreadable. “I see.”.

Cora’s face fell. “We’re not staying?”

The guilt hit me like a physical blow. “I’m trying to balance everything, Coco. It’s not always easy.”

I knelt to her eye level. “I need to go back to work tonight, Coco. There’s an important deadline tomorrow.”

He nodded, loosening his tie. “How was your mother’s?”

An awkward silence fell between us. Once, I would have asked about his day, tried to bridge the distance. Now, I simply waited for the conversation to end.

Clara nodded, seeming pleased. “That sounds lovely.”

“Why didn’t Daddy come with us?”

She looked up at me with eyes too knowing for her age. “Then why are you leaving?”

“Don’t mention it.” Victor refilled his coffee. “Now, can we discuss something more important than thermal conductivity? Like Gran’s birthday next month?”

“As long as it’s chocolate hazelnut, you may make it as spectacular as you wish.”

My brother Victor leaned back in his chair across the table, nursing his morning coffee while pretending not to eavesdrop. Clara’s dining room had become my temporary

office for the week.

“Elara. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

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“Hi, sweetie! How are you?”

After a long moment, I reluctantly pulled away. “I really do need to go. But I’ll see you tomorrow evening, I promise.”

“Oh?” This was the first I’d heard of any weekend trip. “Did he tell you where?”

Something flickered in his eyes–perhaps guilt, perhaps merely annoyance at the implied criticism. “I’ll spend time with her.”

“Has Mr. Thorne returned yet?” I asked, helping Cora remove her coat.

“That would mean redesigning the entire case structure,” Julian countered.

I shot Victor an appreciative glance. “Let me work up some sketches and I’ll send them over this afternoon.”

Amelia looked ready to argue but stopped when I shot her a warning look.

“If that’s what you want,” I said gently.

“I see.” She walked to the sideboard and poured herself tea. “And who decided this?”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “Sometimes adults have many responsibilities.”

“Really. We can do whatever you want.”

Clara took a seat, regarding us over the rim of her teacup. “How thoughtful of you,

Elara.”

With the matter settled, Clara rose. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised Cora we’d explore the old greenhouse this morning.”

I glanced at the clock. “I should be home for dinner tonight. Is everything okay?”

“You’re leaving?” he asked, noticing my purse and the files in my hand.

Julian’s voice perked up. “That’s… actually not a bad idea.”

After ending the call, I closed my laptop with a sigh. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

“Hold on,” I protested. “Shouldn’t we ask what Gran actually wants?”

The next few days passed in a blur of work. YodaVision’s latest AI interface was

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approaching its final development phase, and Julian and I spent long hours refining the prototype. I barely saw Thorne Manor, arriving late and leaving early, often sleeping on the couch in my office.

“Can we make cookies? And have a movie night?

“How many?” Victor asked cautiously.

“A compromise,” Clara interrupted. “Twenty–five guests here, and you may hire that string quartet.”

I brushed her hair back from her forehead. “How about you go up and organize your toys while I get my work done? Then I’ll come say goodbye properly.”

The casual arrogance of Damien’s worldview, already being instilled in our daughter, made my chest ache. “Being busy doesn’t make someone important, Coco. And being important doesn’t mean you can’t be present for the people you love.”

The question caught me off guard. “He… had work to do, sweetheart.”

“We could have it here in the main dining room,” I suggested. “Private catering, your

favorite flowers.”

The statement hit like a slap. “Coco…”

Cora’s shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

“Your birthday celebration,” Amelia announced. “We were thinking the lake house, garden party, about sixty guests.”

“Really?” Hope brightened her voice.

“And can we invite Vivienne too? She said she’d teach me how to paint nails…”

Our eyes met across the foyer. He looked surprised to see me.

That evening, I drove Cora back to Thorne Manor. The weekend had flown by, and though I dreaded returning to the cold atmosphere of the Thorne household, I needed to collect some documents from my home office.

Julian nodded, not pressing further. “Well, my couch is terrible for your back, so at least take the guest room tonight.”

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