HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 89

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

**Chapter 89**

“Welcome back, Mrs. Vanessa! How does it feel to return from Paris with such a prestigious award?” a voice rang out, bright and inquisitive amidst the throng of reporters.

Vanessa’s lips curved into her signature professional smile, a practiced gesture that spoke volumes. “Absolutely incredible,” she replied, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Paris taught me so many new things. The sponsors were incredibly supportive, and the guest list—well, it was full of surprises,” she added, her eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “But none of that compares to what I truly gained.”

The press, a sea of eager faces and flashing cameras, stirred with anticipation, each journalist hungry for her next revelation.

“Oh, of course, none of this would have happened without the unwavering support of my husband,” she said warmly, her gaze drifting affectionately toward Daven.

Turning to him, she crafted a look of affection—one that had been meticulously honed over the years. Daven met her gaze with a faint smile, just enough to appease the cameras but not nearly enough to conceal the fatigue that lingered in his eyes. It was a weariness that spoke of unspoken burdens and silent struggles.

The rapid clicks of camera shutters echoed like a chorus, each photographer vying for that perfect shot—the one that would encapsulate the essence of the Callisters as the quintessential fairytale couple.

“Is it true that the diamond you’re wearing tonight was a gift from Mr. Callister?” another reporter inquired, gesturing toward the vivid red pendant that nestled at the base of Vanessa’s neck, its brilliance catching the light.

Vanessa’s smile deepened, taking on a playful, almost coy quality. She reached up, her fingers brushing the gleaming ruby gently. “Ah, I probably shouldn’t have worn it tonight, should I?” she teased, her tone light and airy. “But it’s far too lovely to keep hidden away in my jewelry box. I know my dear husband went through a lot of trouble to acquire this for me, and I want to honor that. He always knows how to make me feel special.”

In truth, Daven had no knowledge of the necklace’s origins; it had all been arranged by Arsen, a detail that lingered unspoken between them.

“You’re truly such a lucky wife,” one reporter remarked, her wide eyes filled with admiration.

“Absolutely,” another chimed in, “After nearly seven years of one of the most lavish weddings this city has seen, you both still act like newlyweds—so in love and inseparable. Honestly, we’re all a bit jealous. You two are so lucky to have each other.”

Vanessa’s smile widened, and she leaned a little closer into Daven’s arm, a gesture that felt both natural and rehearsed. He remained silent, yet his body language was cooperative—he knew the game they were playing for the cameras. As long as their public image remained intact, that was all that mattered.

They looked picture-perfect, as always. That was their job.

“Mr. Callister,” another journalist interjected, “you’ve been quite active lately. Several outlets reported seeing you at a charity event with the Japanese Embassy. Does this mean you’re taking a more involved role in social initiatives?”

Meanwhile, Daven stood stiffly at her side, a statue of restraint. He hadn’t uttered a word throughout the exchange, offering only the occasional formal smile when the cameras demanded it. The performance drained him more than any high-stakes meeting he had attended in recent days.

But this charade had to be maintained—for the sake of their image, their company, and the illusion of peace.

Eventually, the press conference concluded, and they made their way into the main hall of the gala premiere, where Vanessa was set to play the lead role in the film.

“You’ve stepped into a rather unfamiliar space,” Vanessa murmured under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “James didn’t mention anything. Did he miss a message from Arsen about you being here?”

Daven barely glanced at her, his disinterest palpable. There was once a time when he would have complimented her without hesitation—how radiant she looked in any dress, how perfectly every accessory suited her. Now… he couldn’t even recall the last time those words felt genuine when they escaped his lips.

“You’re not going to explain yourself?” Vanessa pressed, her tone turning sharp, the warmth of her earlier demeanor fading.

“And why should I?” he replied coldly, his voice devoid of warmth. “Don’t you do the same? You go wherever you please, well beyond the schedule you provide to Arsen. You hide behind your ‘work’ as your excuse. So tell me… what makes us any different?”