Cold husband burning regret

Regret Novel 171

It wasn’t until Evander appeared in the doorway that Hans finally quieted down. The frail little boy was curled up under the covers, his face pale as he shrank away from anyone who tried to get close.

“Hans, look, Mr. Howard’s come to see you,” Tricia coaxed gently.

She reached out to ruffle his hair, but Hans dodged her touch, turning instead and flinging himself into Evander’s arms.

For a fleeting second, Tricia’s expression stiffened, but she quickly covered it with a helpless smile. “Hans has been having some episodes,” she explained. “He won’t let me or the bodyguards near him.”

Evander stood by the bed, letting Hans cling to him, though a faint frown creased

his brow.

Hans held onto him in silence, refusing to let go.

After a while, Evander gently grasped his small, narrow shoulders, bending down so they were eye to eye. His voice was calm and reassuring. “Hans, don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

Hans blinked, as if surfacing from a fog, and gave a small nod, though his eyes were still clouded with uncertainty about what lay ahead.

Tricia moved to his side. “Evander, ever since the fall, Hans has become so withdrawn. He doesn’t even want me close anymore. But I never expected he’d still trust you this much.”

straightened, his tone carrying a trace of reproach.

wish I knew why. Maybe he blames me. If only I hadn’t kept

fixed on

in a thin line. The chubby cheeks he once had had wasted away, leaving him thinner than most children his age. Tricia, on the other hand,

was impossible not to wonder just how well she’d really been taking care

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Chapter 171

she feared he might see straight through her. “Evander, I admit

is it true that Hans was

had Natalie look into it. The security cameras had just happened to be out of order, and there were no witnesses except a

her face clouding with wounded indignation. “Why are you asking me that? Do you think Hans and I would lie about something like

ask for details, didn’t dare even

stroked Hans’s hair, his voice softer

memory surfaced. He glanced nervously at his mother, clenching his shirt in his fists, head bowed. His voice was barely a whisper. “It was… they pushed

felt a

was her son–obedient when it