Too Late For Her Regret

Too Late For Her Regret

Gavin

5.0
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For 15 years, Lena and I were Apex and Viper, Sentinel Group's best. We moved like ghosts, always got the job done. I thought our bond was iron, that nothing could break what we had. A lifetime together, quiet, away from it all – that was the future I saw. Then Julian Thorne, a tech billionaire's son, walked into our lives. I saw the shift in Lena's eyes, a flicker I hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Her laughter grew too loud, too often with him, and her subtle jabs at me turned sharper, more dismissive. She started calling him Julian, shared operational details she shouldn't have, and openly mocked my ruggedness, insisting Julian preferred 'polish.' My gut twisted when he tossed our custom-made challenge coin in the air – the symbol of our unbroken partnership, given to him like trash. But nothing hit harder than her cold laugh, "A future? With you? Don't be ridiculous, Alex. You think I' d ever be with someone like you?" Twenty years of belief, shattered in an instant. The woman I loved, my partner for fifteen years, saw me as nothing but a grunt, a relic, beneath her ambition. The pain was a physical blow, a cold, hard truth: this wasn't a partnership. To her, it was just a job, and Julian Thorne, a shiny, disposable perk. Watching her laugh with him, the knot in my gut tightened, then snapped. I pulled out my burner phone, the one I hadn't touched in years. "Grandfather," I said, my voice rough, "It's Alex. About that arrangement... is it still on the table?" It was time to leave everything behind, to find a peace she could never offer.

Introduction

For 15 years, Lena and I were Apex and Viper, Sentinel Group's best.

We moved like ghosts, always got the job done.

I thought our bond was iron, that nothing could break what we had.

A lifetime together, quiet, away from it all – that was the future I saw.

Then Julian Thorne, a tech billionaire's son, walked into our lives.

I saw the shift in Lena's eyes, a flicker I hadn't wanted to acknowledge.

Her laughter grew too loud, too often with him, and her subtle jabs at me turned sharper, more dismissive.

She started calling him Julian, shared operational details she shouldn't have, and openly mocked my ruggedness, insisting Julian preferred 'polish.'

My gut twisted when he tossed our custom-made challenge coin in the air – the symbol of our unbroken partnership, given to him like trash.

But nothing hit harder than her cold laugh, "A future? With you? Don't be ridiculous, Alex. You think I' d ever be with someone like you?"

Twenty years of belief, shattered in an instant.

The woman I loved, my partner for fifteen years, saw me as nothing but a grunt, a relic, beneath her ambition.

The pain was a physical blow, a cold, hard truth: this wasn't a partnership.

To her, it was just a job, and Julian Thorne, a shiny, disposable perk.

Watching her laugh with him, the knot in my gut tightened, then snapped.

I pulled out my burner phone, the one I hadn't touched in years.

"Grandfather," I said, my voice rough, "It's Alex. About that arrangement... is it still on the table?"

It was time to leave everything behind, to find a peace she could never offer.

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I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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