HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 53

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

**Chapter 53**

“What did you say?” Daven whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too heavy to carry. “Reputation?” A bitter chuckle escaped him, tinged with irony, as he sank deeper into the plush embrace of his chair. He let his eyes flutter shut, attempting to block out the dull throb that had settled behind them like an unwelcome guest. “That’s what you care about—your reputation. Every moment we share feels like a performance for the world. And you dare to call that making time for me?”

He was acutely aware of the woman he had wed. Vanessa Blake—the glittering star who seemed to be forever encased in a cocoon of glamour and sensational headlines. Yet, in the quiet corners of his mind, there lingered a yearning for something different. Just once, he wished their marriage could be a sanctuary, a place free from the prying eyes of the public. A space where they could simply exist as two souls intertwined, devoid of flashing cameras and orchestrated appearances. Just the two of them.

Initially, he had been patient, allowing her the freedom to embrace the life she had cultivated long before he entered it. But as the days morphed into weeks and then months, he began to feel increasingly like a spectator in his own life—watching as she performed for everyone around them, save for him. Each social media post, every gala event, and even the so-called intimate moments felt meticulously crafted for an audience, rather than genuine expressions of their love.

“Enough,” he muttered, a sense of resolve washing over him as he straightened in his seat. “I have a meeting to prepare for. That’s far more productive than this charade.”

He reached for the files that his assistant Arsen had delivered earlier, intending to lose himself in the labyrinth of work that awaited him. But then, his hand hesitated mid-air, caught in an invisible web of indecision.

Instead of grasping the paperwork, his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, guiding him away from the desk and toward the far end of the room. It was as if his body moved with a purpose that his thoughts had yet to catch up to.

Daven found himself standing before the expansive glass wall that showcased the sprawling city skyline, a breathtaking panorama stretching from floor to ceiling.

From his vantage point, the city of Migathan sprawled endlessly, a vibrant tapestry of life. The sky was a brilliant azure, while the towering buildings rose like giants, reaching for some unattainable dream. Below, the streets buzzed with activity, cars darting about like scattered ants. In that moment, he should have felt invincible, a man commanding everything that lay beneath him. Instead, an unsettling silence enveloped him—a stark contrast to the chaos below.

He stood there, motionless, with both hands buried deep in the pockets of his slacks. His gaze was not fixated on the bustling city outside, but rather wandered to a distant place, lost in a tempest of thoughts that refused to settle.

Next to the glass wall, a pale grey expanse of concrete held a single, striking frame: their wedding portrait, suspended in all its golden glory, a stark reminder of the promises made.

The image was immaculate. Vanessa, resplendent in her intricate white gown, beamed as if she held the universe in her hands. Daven stood beside her, clad in a sharply tailored black tuxedo, his expression composed, a gentle smile gracing his lips. They appeared perfect—at least on the surface.

Yet, as he stood so close, he barely recognized the man captured within that frame.

Daven’s brow furrowed slightly. “Who?”

“Mr. Rio,” Arsen replied, a hint of urgency in his voice.

Unintentionally, a faint smirk tugged at the corners of Daven’s lips. “Send him in.”

“Right away, sir.”

As Arsen exited, Daven turned away from the glass wall, a flicker of anticipation igniting within him. He had been waiting for news—and if Rio was here, it meant that perhaps, just perhaps, the search had finally borne fruit.

The moment the bald man stepped into his office, Daven wasted no time with pleasantries.

“Well?” he inquired, his voice laced with urgency. “Any progress?”