Too Late For My CEO's Regret

er, charged with the static of survival. The people who hadn't

the door closed. On his des

File: Grac

education-he knew she was brilliant-an

Status:

ndard Arial font, but it

rr

n his mouth. He scanned dow

act: Martha Ma

. Why not

ic. She was making barely above entry-level wa

ia?" he whispered to the empty

freedom, someone who wasn't burdened by a legacy.

ubicle, married to a ghost who wasn't

intercom butto

HR Director was on the l

idger said, cutting through the

d ask for a salary advance six months a

er hu

dsh

ling. The husb

t. He needed to see the reality of her life up close, t

ane's attempt to hand him a schedule. He

ked through the rows of cubicles. Heads sn

d the b

he hot water dispenser, dunking a tea b

her eyes that makeup couldn't hide. Her b

ing to two oth

red. "God, he's gorgeous. I'd let h

ea. "I didn't get a go

pped into t

need glasse

ng women turned pale and practi

e turned around slowly, clut

voice was steady, but he saw t

sso maker that was reserved for management, but no one was going to st

led the space, overpowering t

is ankles. He looked her up and down, let

his floor is ter

a replied, her chi

step closer to her, invading her personal space. He could smell her

voice dropping so

really lowered, Gra

small, a tightening of h

are fine," she

wasn't wearing a ring. "Where's the happy hus

. "That's none o

this building i

f his coffee. He looked at the oth

o work," he

crambl

cia one last time. "Y

the 'Mrs.' l

watery tea. He felt a twisted sense of satisfacti

ad succeeded. So why did he fee