A Divorce He Regrets (Alissa Nexus) novel Chapter 87

I couldn’t believe it. After everything, Raina had taken this step—to push me further away, to sever any chance I had left of being near her.

My hands trembled with rage as I charged after Nathan, grabbing him by the collar. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?” I hissed, my voice low and venomous.

Nathan’s lips curled into a smirk. “And so what if it was?” he replied, his tone maddeningly calm. “I’m not the one who needs to keep his distance.”

I tightened my grip, my fury boiling over. “I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you don’t stay away from her.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Nathan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

Before I could act on my impulses, my mother’s voice rang out behind me. “Alexander! What’s going on here?”

She hurried toward us, her eyes darting between me and Nathan. “Who is this?” she demanded.

Nathan straightened his collar, smoothing out his jacket. “Nathan,” he said, extending a hand she didn’t take. “Raina’s boyfriend.”

The color drained from my mother’s face. “Boyfriend? She has a boyfriend when she’s still married?”

Nathan didn’t miss a beat. “She’s just being the woman she was accused of being years ago.”

My hands clenched into fists. “You son of a—”

But Nathan cut me off with a dismissive wave. “We’ll see who Raina believes in the end,” he said, turning and walking away without so much as a backward glance.

I drove to work, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The rage simmering inside me was like a low-burning fire, threatening to ignite at the slightest provocation. I needed a distraction, something to get my mind off the disastrous morning and the restraining order I’d just been served.

But the moment I stepped into the office, I knew focus would be impossible. My thoughts were tangled with images of Nathan and Raina, their connection a maddening puzzle I couldn’t solve. Every memory of them together felt like salt rubbed into an open wound.

“Good morning, Mr. Sullivan,” my assistant greeted me tentatively, sensing my mood from the storm cloud likely hanging over my head.

I ignored her polite tone, thrusting a stack of papers onto her desk. “These figures are off,” I snapped. “Redo them.”

She blinked, confused. “Sir, those numbers were triple-checked yesterday—”

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