My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 92

12:18 C

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92 The Unforeseen Gift and a Resolute Promise

92 The Unforeseen Gift and a Resolute Promise

The bedroom door opened, and Damien walked in, a glass of water in hand. He stopped when he saw me with the folder. *

He nodded. “I had some paperwork to finalize”

“Damien,” I began, trying to gather my thoughts. “Thank you, but this isn’t what I asked for. I wanted to buy the other villa, not receive one as a gift. And certainly not one this valuable.”

Eleanor beamed when she saw us walking through the door together. Her eyes sparkled with hope, clearly pleased to see Damien and me arriving home at the same

time.

“Yes.”

“Don’t work too hard, dear,” Eleanor patted my arm. “You always push yourself too

much.”

The house was quiet as I made my way upstairs. Eleanor had likely retired for the evening, and the staff moved silently through their evening routines.

Damien nodded and returned to his reading. I slipped into the bathroom to change and prepare for bed. When I emerged, he was still reading, the blue light from his tablet illuminating his face.

By the time I left the office, it was after nine. The drive to the Thorne estate gave me time to decompress, mentally shifting from work mode to the careful neutrality I maintained around Damien.

When I arrived, I was surprised to see Damien’s car already in the garage. He rarely came home before ten, often much later. I wondered if Vivienne was busy tonight.

I nodded and moved to my dresser, gathering my nightclothes. The atmosphere between us had shifted subtly since our conversation in the car. Not warmer exactly, but less frigid. His help with/Alistair and his agreement about the villa had cracked something in the wall between us.

“It makes no sense to take separate cars when you’re going to the same area of the city,” she insisted.

12:18

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92 The Unforeseen Gift and a Resolute Promise

When I entered our bedroom, Damien was already there, sitting up against the

headboard, reading something on his tablet. The soft lamplight cast shadows across his sharp features, reminding me of earlier days when I would watch him work late into the night, admiring his focus.

“Sorry,” I said awkwardly. “I didn’t expect you to be here yet.”

“Well, perhaps tomorrow then,” Eleanor said, undeterred.

But I couldn’t let myself read too much into it. Seven years of marriage had taught me that pattern. A moment of kindness followed by weeks of indifference. This time would be no different. Our marriage was ending, and these small courtesies were just the civilized death throes of a relationship that had never truly lived.

I held up the folder. “Is this what you were finalizing?”

“Everything okay with work?” he asked, breaking the silence.

It was such a small gesture, yet it lingered in my mind as I lay there. When was the last time Damien had done something so simple for me? I couldn’t remember. Perhaps it meant nothing. Perhaps it was just convenience since he was already putting his tablet

down.

The day rushed by in a flurry of meetings and development reviews. Julian and I were working against tight deadlines for our newest AI application, and I lost track of time. By the time I checked my watch, it was nearly eight in the evening.

“You’re home early,” I said, my voice oddly strained.

Julian shook his head. “Always the perfectionist. Don’t stay too late.”

“It’s too much,” I said firmly. “I don’t have this much money right now. Give me some time, and I will-”

I shook my head. “I’m afraid I need to decline, Eleanor. I still have work calls to make.”

“Just a little longer,” I replied, typing furiously. “I want to finish this segment before I

leave.”

The next morning at breakfast, Eleanor suggested that Damien drive me to work again.

“No need to worry, Grandmother,” Damien said, his voice level. “Traffic was heavier

than usual.”

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92 The Untorissen Caift and a Resolute Promise

It wasn’t entirely true, but I needed space. Damien’s help with Alistair and the villa

were debts I didn’t want to accumulate. Each kindness from him complicated the clean break I was trying to make.

“Yes,” I replied, surprised by his question. “Just finalizing details with a potential

investor.”

I slid into my side of the bed, careful to maintain the invisible boundary that had existed between us for years. The mattress dipped slightly under my weight, but Damien didn’t look up.

“Goodnight,” I said softly, reaching for my lamp.

And it was in my name. Not Damien’s. Not the Thorne family’s. Mine alone.

I excused myself and headed upstairs to my room. The calls I mentioned weren’t a complete fabrication. Julian had texted about a potential investor wanting to speak tonight. After two lengthy calls discussing YodaVision’s growth projections, I finally

finished around eleven.

I turned on my side, facing away from him, and closed my eyes. Sleep came surprisingly quickly.

I opened the bedroom door and stepped inside, expecting to find Damien working on his laptop as usual. Instead, the room was empty, but something on my makeup table caught my eye.

Elara’s POV

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