Ela Osaretin

"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage.
We had been married for exactly three years—three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment.
For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage.
Today, I finally received his message:
"I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport."
When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined—he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend.
In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air.
Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken—to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again.
He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end—almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be.
"Aurora, come back. I regret everything!"
Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me—only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!

Billionaire's Regret, Too Late!

On my way to work, I stopped by the hospital to get on the pills.


I could not keep on relying on morning after pills.


It was safer to just be on a birth control plan.


As I sat down waiting for my turn, I stared at the heavily pregnant woman sitting across from me at the waiting hall.


The man beside her, who might be her husband but was definitely her romantic partner because the way he stared at her and the way he kept making sure she was comfortable showed that he was all over her.


At some point, he placed his hand on her belly and whispered something in her ear which made her smile.


I was once a lover girl. Picturing this kind of attention from my husband, when I fell pregnant, when we had our children.


I wanted to be a good mother, I wanted to always be there for my kids, be someone my children would always find loving and comfortable with. I pictured raising them with my husband in love and harmony.


Chapter 42 Last straw