HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 231

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

**Chapter 231**

As their car glided to a halt in front of the imposing courthouse, Althea felt her heart seize in her chest. The sight that greeted her was more than she had braced herself for.

“This… is this really okay?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

She had anticipated a gathering of reporters, yes, Chase had forewarned her about the media frenzy, but this was a veritable sea of bodies, a throng that surged and ebbed like a restless tide. The sheer magnitude of it was staggering, far exceeding anything she had envisioned.

“Don’t worry, Miss Althea. We’ve got this under control,” Adrian said, his voice steady, a soothing balm against her rising anxiety.

As the car door swung open, a wall of security personnel surged forward, enveloping her in a protective embrace. Her lawyers and support staff formed a tight circle around her, guiding her toward the courthouse entrance. Yet, there was no escaping the blinding flashes of cameras, the relentless probing of microphones, and the cacophony of voices clamoring for her attention. Each step she took was met with a barrage of light, illuminating her face as if she were some kind of spectacle.

“Miss Althea! How do you feel going into the final hearing?” one reporter shouted, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Do you believe you can dismantle all of Miss Vanessa’s accusations?” another pressed, urgency lacing his tone.

“I hope you’re not intimidated by her!” came a third voice, laced with a hint of concern.

“How does it feel, knowing the public is mostly on your side?” Yet another question, this one tinged with a surprising warmth.

The atmosphere among the reporters felt different this time—not accusatory, but rather tinged with an undercurrent of support. There was an unmistakable sense of sympathy, even empathy, that washed over the crowd like a gentle wave. But to Althea, it felt like the harsh glare of spotlights burning into her skin.

With each step, the tension coiled tighter around her, a suffocating grip that made her wish for nothing more than for this day to evaporate quickly—just for the hearing to conclude and for the verdict to finally send a message to Vanessa: Althea was no longer the woman she could easily walk over.

Two of Chase’s staff flanked her, one moving ahead and the other trailing behind, expertly managing the crowd that pressed in around her. Even amidst the warmth of sympathy, Althea’s chest felt constricted, as if a heavy weight rested upon it.

“Please, just a quick response, Miss Althea. How do you feel going into this trial?” a reporter urged, desperation creeping into his voice.

Althea slowed her pace, forcing a smile to her lips, trying to project calmness even as her heart raced. She focused her attention on the sea of reporters. “How do I feel?” she echoed softly, allowing the words to sink in.

In an instant, half the reporters surged forward, but her security team moved with practiced efficiency, ensuring she could express herself without being overwhelmed or pressured.

“My feelings are steady,” she declared, her voice ringing clear above the clamor. “I am confident that the judge will grant my petition because Miss Blake’s accusations are entirely unfounded. Each piece of evidence I have submitted has been verified for authenticity, and as members of the press, you’ve witnessed firsthand the materials that were manipulated versus those that are rooted in fact. I trust that answer suffices.”

“Miss Althea, what about Mr. Daven? Are you still in contact with him?”

“What’s your view on Mr. Daven and Miss Vanessa’s divorce trial?”

“Is your presence in Mighatan tied to a specific mission?”

“Please, Miss Althea,” Adrian gestured toward her designated seat. She moved forward, settling into the chair that awaited her. Just then, the doors creaked open once more. The sharp click of heels resonated through the chamber, each step radiating confidence.

Vanessa entered.

Clad in a dark blue gown that clung to her form, Vanessa’s face was a canvas of bold, striking makeup. A faint, mocking smile played on her lips—not one of warmth or pride, but rather one dripping with disdain. The cameras erupted into a frenzy, eager to capture every nuance of her entrance.

“Well, look who finally found the courage to show up,” Vanessa sneered as she glided past Althea’s table, her voice low but sharp enough to slice through the air.

Althea remained unflinching. She briefly lowered her gaze, inhaled a steady breath, and tightened her fingers together, reinforcing her resolve.

Her attorney’s voice broke through again, calm yet firm. “Let her talk. The more she lashes out, the clearer it becomes who’s truly at fault.”

The judge’s gavel struck the wood with a decisive crack, silencing the whispers that had filled the room.

“The hearing for the defamation case, with the defendant Miss Vanessa Blake and the plaintiff Miss Althea Grayson, is now in session.”

In an instant, the atmosphere thickened. Every eye in the room shifted, locking onto the two women, the tension palpable.

The battle of words—and pride—was about to commence. And Althea whispered a silent prayer, hoping she would emerge victorious when it all came to an end.