HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 199

**Shadows of the Past – By Emma Clarke**

**Chapter 199**

“No, Mom,” Daven asserted with unwavering conviction. “That news—it’s simply not true. I can assure you of that.”

The weight of the lie settled heavily in his chest, sharper than he had anticipated. Fabricating such a monumental falsehood to his mother felt like a betrayal, cutting deeper than any physical wound. But he found himself cornered, with no other option available. The thought of the ripple effect it could unleash terrified him, especially since the storm he was already ensnared in showed no signs of abating. It wasn’t merely fear that gripped him; it was a profound dread of what actions his mother might take if she felt compelled to intervene in ways he couldn’t foresee or control.

He couldn’t shake off the memories of how she had treated Althea in the past, either.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kate narrowed her eyes, a flicker of suspicion igniting within their depths. “Don’t you dare hide something this significant from me, Daven.”

“I’m absolutely certain, Mom,” he replied, his voice calm and steady, his expression betraying no hint of the turmoil within. He tightened his grip on her hand, almost as if he were trying to transfer his conviction directly into her skin. “You know how reporters operate. They’ll twist anything to fit their own narrative.”

Kate released a slow, measured breath. The sharp edge of her curiosity dulled somewhat, yet a wistful sorrow clouded her gaze, making her expression more complex. “Yes… perhaps you’re right. I shouldn’t have believed such a thing.”

A faint smile curled on Daven’s lips, a flicker of relief mingling with the tension in the air. “She’s happy with her life now, Mom. Isn’t it true—we were the ones who didn’t want her as part of this family?”

His words caught Kate off guard, her breath hitching slightly as she cleared her throat, trying to brush aside the sting of his honesty. Yet, deep down, she recognized the truth in his statement.

“Aren’t you at all curious about your sisters?” she asked, shifting the conversation with a hint of hopefulness.

“You’re right,” Daven said, allowing a faint, knowing smile to break through the veneer of seriousness. “How are Felicia and Kalina?” He realized, with a twinge of guilt, that his earlier remark had cut deeper than he had intended. He had spoken of the past as if the wounds they inflicted on Althea were trivial, when in reality, the regret still lingered like a shadow over him.

Kate’s face brightened at the change of subject. Her eyes sparkled warmly as she shared, “Felicia texted me just this morning. Her handbag brand just landed a major overseas order! And Kalina—you know your sister—she’s been absolutely swamped with her shoe line. Influencers are starting to take notice of her work.”

Daven raised his brows, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he processed this information. “They really know how to make me feel like I’m falling behind.”

Kate chuckled softly, the sound rich with affection. “That’s called hard work, Daven. You’re proud of them, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” he replied, his pride evident in his tone. “They’ve chosen a good path. As long as they stay focused on their own lives, I don’t have to worry. All I want is to ensure they never get tangled in something as chaotic as what I’ve been through.”

“Good evening, Mr. Daven.” Harold’s voice came through, accompanied by a low, amused chuckle that set Daven on edge.

Behind him, the thrum of loud music pulsed in the background, the heavy beat of bass mingling with the clinking of glasses. He didn’t need to guess for long. A nightclub, perhaps—or Harold’s private den, surrounded by women paid to entertain him.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your evening,” Harold continued, his tone friendly but laced with that thin, formal restraint he never quite managed to hide.

“Not at all. I’m with my mother, but we just finished dinner,” Daven replied, glancing back at Kate. She offered him a gentle nod, as if granting him permission to handle the interruption.

“Ah, forgive me then, Mr. Daven. Perhaps I should have gone through your assistant first before calling.”

Daven’s fist curled slightly at his side, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “I believe Arsen already informed you of my plans for the weekend, didn’t he?”

A chuckle escaped Harold, light yet edged with mischief. “I would have preferred not to disturb you, Mr. Daven. But there’s a matter that requires a brief discussion.”

“Then say it. What is it?”