HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 260

The room was dim, lit only by the muted glow of a table lamp in the corner. Long shadows of the furniture stretched across the walls, draping the space in a cold, oppressive stillness. Beyond the tall, half-frosted window, leaves drifted to the ground in slow spirals, carried away by the restless wind. Even the season seemed to conspire, wrapping the night in a gloom that mirrored the man sitting in the black leather chair.

He leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, a cigar smoldering between his fingers. Thin ribbons of smoke curled upward, mingling with the sharp aroma of the red wine he sipped now and then from a crystal glass. Time itself seemed to pause as he stared out at the dance of falling leaves. Yet on the small table beside him lay a phone—silent, untouched, but clearly being waited on.

His fingers tapped against the armrest, a restless rhythm cutting through the silence. Every so often, his gaze flicked to the screen, only to find it blank. Until finally—the chime of a notification shattered the stillness. He moved quickly, snatching the phone and scanning the message that had arrived.

“Confirmed, sir. You were right. The boy is the key—and the perfect target. He’s close to both Daven and Chase Miller. If we act now, I’m certain we can shake them to the core. I’ve tracked their schedules. This time, there will be no delays.”

The corner of his lips curved upward, not into joy but into something colder—a slash of satisfaction. His eyes gleamed, the look of a man whose long calculations had at last reached their turning point. He set the cigar in the ashtray, steady hands beginning to type a reply.

“Leave no gaps. Make sure everything unfolds exactly as planned. I’ll be waiting for the good news.”

He hit send, placed the phone back on the table, then lifted his wine toward the window as if toasting the night outside.

“Daven Callister,” he murmured, each word sharp with intent. “You’ll learn that blood and power can’t truly protect anyone.”

He paused, draining the glass until only half remained.

“And you too, Chase Miller,” his voice dropped, heavy and deliberate. “Your pride will be the fire that consumes you.”

Silence reclaimed the room, broken only by the faint moan of wind brushing against the glass. Yet the tension that lingered was suffocating, thick with the promise of imminent chaos.

The man relit his cigar and exhaled slowly, his eyes cold, calculating. The countdown to ruin had begun—and this time, he intended to savor every moment of it.

***

“Mom, can I buy a hotdog from the stand in front of the hotel? I saw it yesterday when we came back.”

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