HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 60

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

**Chapter 60**

Vanessa hurled her crystal-studded clutch onto the couch with a reckless abandon, not sparing a thought for the potential damage. She felt a surge of defiance; if it cracked or the shimmering stones scattered across the floor, so be it. In that moment, she was consumed by a tempest of emotions. Striding over to the bar, she seized a bottle of champagne, pouring herself a generous glass and downing it in a single, furious gulp.

“Damn it!” she exclaimed, the sound of the glass slamming onto the counter echoing through the luxurious living room.

With each click of her heels against the polished marble floor, she began to pace, channeling her frustration into restless movement. Her face was a canvas of anger and disbelief, brows knitted tightly as her thoughts spiraled into a chaotic whirlwind.

“Why did he have to go back to that house?” she muttered under her breath, gripping the back of a bar stool so fiercely that her knuckles turned a ghostly white. “I’ve been holding back all week—trying to avoid arguments, biting my tongue whenever his schedule interferes, reshuffling my own life just to fit around his!”

Biting her thumbnail in agitation, she felt the tension coiling tighter within her.

“And then… I showed up to that ridiculous banquet. All alone. Playing the part of the perfect wife just to maintain appearances. And for what?” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, tugging at the strands as if they could somehow release the pent-up frustration. “What did I gain from it, huh?!”

Her breath quickened, a wave of fury rising within her that felt impossible to suppress.

“He waltzed in without even bothering to inform me! I looked like a complete fool! Damn you, Daven. Damn you!”

She drained the last remnants of her drink, the nearly empty bottle doing little to extinguish the fire raging in her chest. Her gaze fell upon the wall adorned with framed photographs—each one a perfect snapshot from their wedding day. They were flawless images of a dream realized, encapsulating everything she had ever yearned for.

And it had all come to fruition. The ideal marriage. The ideal man. A life she had once believed would remain forever blissful.

But lately, the sheen of happiness had begun to fray. Bit by bit, the cracks were becoming evident.

Especially now, as she found herself cornered by the one thing she had desperately tried to evade—pregnancy.

“Why couldn’t my loving husband stand up for me?” she whispered bitterly, sinking onto the couch, her head throbbing as the alcohol made the room sway ever so slightly. But she didn’t care. Maybe if she passed out, she would awaken to a different reality—one where Daven was still her devoted husband, still by her side, still defending her without question.

Just like before.

Then, she heard it.

The unmistakable sound of the apartment’s digital lock beeping, the soft click of someone entering the code.

Her heart raced, a flicker of hope igniting within her. Perhaps… just perhaps it was him.

Maybe Daven had returned.

“Miss?” came a low, gentle voice from the doorway.

Vanessa let out a sharp, frustrated growl just as James—her personal assistant—stepped into the apartment, a paper bag in hand. But the moment he laid eyes on the disheveled state of the living room and the storm brewing on his employer’s face, he froze mid-step.

“What are you doing here?” Vanessa snapped, her voice laced with ice.

“I saw you come home. I thought…” His words trailed off as he held up the bag. “I brought you dinner. I figured you might need something in your system.”

“I don’t need it,” she replied curtly, her tone dismissive. “Go home. I don’t need you tonight.”

Yet James placed the bag on the kitchen counter with unwavering determination, methodically unpacking its contents despite her protests. He wasn’t going to leave until he was sure she had eaten something. The last time she had skipped dinner, she had fainted, and he refused to let that happen again.

“I know I don’t have the right to ask,” he said gently as he plated the food, “but… did Mr. Daven do something to upset you again?”

Vanessa let out a bitter laugh, her gaze fixed on James, watching his every movement with simmering rage. “He didn’t do anything, James,” she replied, her voice steady but laced with frustration.

“And that’s why you’re upset?”

“Exactly!” she exploded, her voice rising. “That’s precisely the problem! He doesn’t do anything anymore! Not for me!”

“Yes. I’m insane.”

Finally, Vanessa sank into the chair James had pulled out for her, her eyes glaring at him with unfiltered disdain, yet she complied with his request. She began to eat—albeit begrudgingly.

“You’re adorable when you behave,” James remarked, giving her a gentle pat on the head. “When you’re done, I’ll be waiting for you in the living room.”

Vanessa remained silent.

Dinner wasn’t completely gone, but half the plate was empty—a small victory in James’s eyes. This was far better than forcing her to eat bite after bite while she resisted like a cornered cat.

When she finally joined him in the living room, James was comfortably seated on the sofa, engrossed in a movie playing on the TV. He didn’t flinch when Vanessa stepped directly in front of him, blocking his view.

Instead, he smiled.

“Thank you for eating, Miss Vanessa.”

She remained silent, her gaze locked onto his—cold and unreadable.

“What can I do to cheer you up?” James asked, meeting her stare with one of his own, unwavering and intense. “Just say the word. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Then satisfy me,” Vanessa whispered, stepping closer. Closer still—until James’s hands instinctively found their way to her hips.

And when she straddled him, settling into his lap without hesitation and tugging at the tie still wrapped around his neck, James understood precisely what she needed.

“Stay with me tonight, Daven,” she murmured, pulling the tie tighter. Their faces were mere inches apart, his breath warming her cheek.

“With pleasure, my beloved wife,” James whispered, brushing her face with the softest touch. “I am Daven. Your husband.”