Regret Novel 220

Evander’s grip tightened around his teacup. His voice came out low and hoarse. “Do I really seem that biased toward her?”

Mrs. Fontaine hesitated, stumbling over her words. “Well… Director Winthrop said it herself, sir. You never interfere in her affairs. She even told me you despise the Sterlings–so even if I went after someone from that family, you’d never blame her

for it!”

She was just telling the truth. Honestly, if Tricia hadn’t given her that assurance, would she ever have dared to go that far?

As soon as she finished speaking, the man fell completely silent.

A heavy, funereal hush settled over the private lounge.

He said nothing. Mrs. Fontaine didn’t dare utter another word. Several long minutes passed before Evander finally dismissed her with a wave.

Only when she left the lounge did Mrs. Fontaine finally breathe again. This wasn’t betrayal–she was just protecting herself.

Evander remained sprawled on the sofa for a long time, shadows darkening his features. He looked utterly spent.

To outsiders, did it really seem like he indulged Tricia that much?

Was that how Charlotte saw him, too?

Was that why…

She hated him.

He couldn’t tell anymore if the pain in his side was from the knife wound or if it was his chest that hurt. Either way, he felt like hell.

Natalie shot him a look.

Now, you finally realize how far you let that manipulative woman get? Not even worth the breath to scold you.

by the time Evander returned to Tranquility Manor. The living room was shrouded in darkness. He flicked on the hidden lights and made his

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Chapter 220

His brow furrowed.

the first time Charlotte had

she still

waking her or starting another argument. Instead, he

passed by the master bedroom, assuming Charlotte would be up by now. He knocked, hoping

how long he

hadn’t shown

unease began to take hold. He called Lana. “Did Mrs. Winthrop

sir. She called and gave

her time

unlocked

“Charlotte!”

a wrinkle

from the clothes he’d bought for

phone, and

voicemail.

She’d blocked him.

the jewelry box he’d given her that morning, unopened. He glanced over at the calendar on the wall–four days were marked off,

the day she’d buy

joke. He’d actually believed

one of the boxes in

was a divorce agreement, but before he

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