A Regret too Late

Maria's eyes trembled.

Eleanor sounded so natural just now, like a wife talking to her husband about their son.

Sunny Villa had been Maria and Richard's home for seven years, but the way Eleanor spoke made it feel like she was coming back to her home—not Maria's.

And Jonathan, knowing Maria would worry about him so much, still lied about being sick to get her back…

Maria's heart froze, turning ice-cold.

Richard's face tightened, his tone laced with concern. "Maria, Eleanor only works at the company because…"

"You've got it all wrong, Maria," Eleanor cut in, stepping forward and warmly taking Maria's hand. "I'm just filling in for the secretary, Ivy Hill. I'll be here for just a few days while she takes care of her family during an emergency."

Maria yanked Eleanor's hand back, her voice flat. "Did I say I misunderstood anything?"

Eleanor's face stiffened for an instant before she smiled softly. "Jonny called me just now, saying you won't go back to help him with his homework. If he doesn't finish it, his teacher will scold him again tomorrow. Maybe don't quarrel with the boy? His studies matter more…"

"Enough. Don't blame her." Richard's voice cut in, silencing Eleanor.

He looked at Maria, worry evident in his eyes, though his tone allowed no refusal. "We'll talk about your resignation tomorrow. It's late, so I'll take you home now."

A ringing was already filling Maria's ears.

She knew what came next. The nausea.

Every time her emotions spiked, her body reacted.

Maria forced herself to stay steady. "I'll collect the resignation letter tomorrow. Remember to sign it."

"Mari…"

Richard reached for her. His fingers brushed her cool silk jacket, leaving only a trace of chill.

Maria walked away quickly, unwilling to hear another word from them. On her way out, she noticed a new office next door.

Though she rarely came to the company, she remembered Ivy's office was tucked at the end of the hall. Richard had never liked anyone walking around and disturbing him near his office.

But now, there was bold lettering on the neighboring office's door. CEO's Executive Assistant: Eleanor Cooper.

This was the so-called "helping for a few days."

Bitterness welled up in Maria's chest as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button. Just then, Mr. Graham's video call came through.

Maria answered. The sight of Jonathan, crying with blood running down his forehead, entered her eyes.

"Madam! Please come home! Master Jonathan is really hurting this time!"

One minute later, Maria burst out of the elevator. She quickened her pace into a run, the wind howling by her ears as she remembered what had happened in the past.

When Jonathan was three, he had hurt his head while playing in the garden. Wracked with guilt, Maria had carried him all the way to the hospital as he bawled. The doctor stitched him up, and Jonathan stopped crying. He was trembling from the pain, but he would wipe her tears with his tiny hands.

"Don't cry, Mom. Jonny loves you," he had said.

Now, the injury was in the very same place.

A tear slipped from the corner of Maria's eye. She could reject the Jonathan of today, but not the three-year-old Jonny from her memory.

-

Sunny Villa glowed brightly.

When Maria arrived, the air reeked of blood. Jonathan was still hiccupping with sobs as the family doctor finished dressing his wound. At the sight of Maria, his crying only grew louder.

"Mom, I'm dying! You only came back now that I'm dying!"

Maria rushed over. "You're not dying. Let me see your injury."

Jonathan leaned closer. It was only a scrape, though deep enough to look frightening. Maria sighed in relief and bent to blow on it, only for Jonathan to shove her away.

"Eleanor!"

Maria froze.

Ignoring his wound, Jonathan threw himself into Eleanor's arms, whining, "Eleanor, my head's hurt! It hurts a lot! Blow on it, please? If you blow, it won't hurt."

Eleanor cuddled him tenderly and blew a few times on his head. "Good boy. Better now?"

"Yeah! It doesn't hurt so much when you blow," Jonathan beamed.

Maria's lips went pale, bile rising in her throat.

Eleanor stroked Jonathan's hair and looked at Maria with a pointed smile. "I bought children's painkillers while I'm on the way here. If he still hurts tomorrow, make sure he takes one. It doesn't increase drug resistance."

Her tone was that of a mistress giving orders to a servant. Maria's eyes are even colder. "I don't live here. Go tell someone else."

"Uh…" Mr. Graham rubbed his hands awkwardly, not sure how to break the ice between them, just in time for Richard to come in after parking his car.

Jonathan let Richard inspect the wound, then glanced at Maria and demanded, "Mom, go wash some fruit. Dad and Eleanor love grapes. I want an apple!"

Before the words even settled, Richard smacked the back of his head lightly. "Who are you bossing around? You're getting ruder and ruder to your mother lately. Apologize."

Eleanor rushed to shield the boy, her eyes full of disagreement. "He's just a kid, and he's hurt. Richard, don't…"

Maria didn't want to hear more. She grabbed her purse, nearly vomiting as she bent down. Pressure pounded in her skull, but she forced back the nausea and headed for the door.

"Mari, are you alright?"

Richard caught her arm, then looked at Eleanor. "Go home. Our family affairs aren't your concern. Don't come so often."

Eleanor suddenly looked up, and her expression shifted.

Richard turned away, voice lowered as though afraid to startle Maria. "You don't look well. I'll take you to the hospital."

Without waiting, he guided her out.

The nausea overwhelmed Maria, and she shoved him off. She covered her mouth with her hand and rushed upstairs to the bathroom. Kneeling by the toilet, she vomited up mouthfuls of water.

The vomiting echoed downstairs. Richard's face tightened, and he hurried upstairs.

Behind him, Eleanor's weak voice drifted. "Richard…"

He stopped, frowning. "What's wrong?"

Jonathan, forgetting his own injury, rushed to support Eleanor. "Are you okay?"

Eleanor swayed, collapsed onto the sofa, and her breathing quickened. Clutching her chest, she gasped, "My…my chest, it hurts… so much…"

Mr. Graham cried, "Ms. Eleanor has heart disease, right? Is she having an attack? Sir, what should we do?"

Upstairs, Maria rinsed her mouth and opened the bathroom door—just in time to see Jonathan tugging desperately at Richard's sleeve.

"Mom just has her usual nausea. Don't worry about her! Eleanor will die if she doesn't get to the hospital!"