My Coldhearted Husband'S Regret novel Chapter 93

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93 A Call’s Bitter Revelation

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak further. Moving to the refrigerator, I began gathering Ingredients for Cora’s dinner, needing the distraction of a routine task.

The drive home was filled with Cora’s animated chatter about her day. These moments were precious–when she was just my daughter, not torn between loyalties.

“No,” I replied. “Your grandmother wants me to bring dinner to your office. I thought I should check if that works for you.”

The truth was that the villa documents, Damien’s gesture that had seemed so generous yesterday, now felt like the final settlement it truly was. He was giving me property because he was giving me up. Making space in his life for Vivienne by clearing

me out of it.

Eleanor beamed. “Wonderful idea.”

“Mommy, can we have spaghetti?” Cora asked, looking up from her homework.

The pasta water boiled over suddenly, hissing as it hit the stovetop. I rushed to turn down the heat, wiping up the mess with a dishcloth.

“I’m sorry, Eleanor,” I said. “Damien already has dinner plans.”

The villa wasn’t a peace offering. It was a parting gift.

“You work too hard,” Eleanor patted my hand. “It’s wonderful to have you here. In fact, I was wondering if you might do me a small favor.”

I hugged her tightly, breathing in her sweet, familiar scént. “Hi, sweetheart. How was

school?”

The villa documents sat on my dresser, a reminder of Damien’s unexpected generosity. After our conversation last night, I had reluctantly accepted the property. Not because I wanted his charity, but because the fight wasn’t worth having. The coastal villa would be the final thread connecting us before our complete separation.

I ended the call and stood motionless in the hallway. The conversation wasn’t surprising–I knew about Vivienne, had known for years. And yet, hearing her voice in his office, so comfortable, so intimate… It drove home the reality of our situation in a

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93 ACall’s Gater Revelation

way legal documents couldn’t.

I glanced at Cora, who was focused on her homework. Eleanor was watching me expectantly. Refusing outright would create tension I didn’t have the energy to navigate.

“Yes. Goodbye, Damien.”

The school parking lot buzzed with activity when I arrived. Parents chatted in small groups while children poured out of the building. I spotted Cora immediately, her dark hair bouncing as she ran toward me.

And maybe that was exactly what I needed to move forward.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Elara, dear,” Eleanor said, approaching me as Cora settled at the table with her homework. “What a lovely surprise to see you home this afternoon.”

“I understand,” I said, working to keep my voice neutral. “I’ll let Eleanor know.”

“No need,” Damien said to me, his voice even. “I already have dinner plans.”

Elara’s POV

“Damien, darling, I’ve brought dinner from that new French place you mentioned.”

The words weren’t cruel, just matter–of–fact. But they landed like a slap nonetheless.

“That sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to see it.”

“Let me call and check with him first,” I suggested, pulling out my phone.

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows as I dressed for the day. Damien had left early for some business meeting, sparing me another tense breakfast with Eleanor’s hopeful glances between us.

As I stirred the sauce, I realized a strange sense of calm had replaced the initial sting. There was clarity in this moment–hearing Vivienne’s voice, Damien’s easy dismissal of Eleanor’s dinner plans. The universe was confirming what I already knew: my marriage was over. Had been over long before I’d asked for a divorce.

As I chopped vegetables for the sauce, my thoughts drifted back to the call. Vivienne bringing Damien dinner wasn’t new or shocking. They’d been together through most

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of my marriage to him. But today, it felt different. More final

Taking a deep breath, I returned to the kitchen where Eleanor was helping Cora with her spelling worksheet.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said carefully. “I have meetings later, and Damien probably has his own dinner plans.”

I stepped into the hallway for privacy and dialed Damien’s number. The line rang several times before he answered.

I smiled politely. “I wanted to spend some time with Cora before my evening meetings.

“Just fine,” I lied. “Just a little distracted.”

“We made clay animals in art class!” Cora pulled back, eyes bright with excitement. “Miss Bennett said mine was very creative.”

“Elara.” His voice was crisp, professional. “Is something wrong?”

While Cora recounted her day again for her great–grandmother, I moved to the kitchen to prepare a light snack. The normalcy of the moment felt deceptive–like a beautiful painting with hairline cracks running through the canvas.

Eleanor’s face fell slightly. “Oh, what a shame. Well, perhaps another time.”

Something in her tone made me wary. “What kind of favor?”

“Damien mentioned he’d be working late tonight. I’ve had Mrs. Chen prepare his favorite pot roast.” She gestured to a package on the counter. “Would you mind delivering it to him? He forgets to eat when he’s busy.”

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