From Prison to His Perfect Regret
I sacrificed five years of my freedom to save my husband' s billion-dollar empire.
I walked out of prison expecting gratitude, but instead, I found his assistant wearing my life like a second skin.
And when his company faced a new crisis, he didn't look to me for support-he looked at me as the prime suspect.
Jasper thought a luxury suite at The Plaza could erase five years of silence.
He claimed he was "protecting" me, while Candice, the woman who orchestrated my fall, blocked my letters and managed his heart.
But the moment his laptop was wiped, his mask of devotion crumbled.
He accused me of sabotage instantly, blind to the real enemy standing right beside him.
I didn't argue. I just walked away.
He screamed that I' d be destitute without him, that I was throwing my life away for a "nobody."
Instead, I found Cohen, the inmate who had protected me inside when Jasper abandoned me.
Months later, Jasper called, sobbing. He' d finally found the security footage proving Candice' s guilt.
"I'll wire you ten million dollars," he begged, his voice breaking. "I'll even give Cohen a construction job. Just come home."
I looked at Cohen, who was gently painting a crib for our unborn child in our warm, safe home.
"Keep your money, Jasper," I said.
"We're already taken care of."
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Chapter 4
Ashlie POV:
Candice's eyes narrowed, a flash of something venomous in their depths before she quickly regained her composure. Her smile, though strained, returned.
"Ashlie, darling, don't be silly," she chided, her voice dripping with condescension. "I was merely his executive assistant, providing professional support during a very trying time. You were in... a difficult situation. Someone had to ensure Jasper didn't completely fall apart." She patted Jasper's arm again, a possessive gesture that made my stomach churn.
Jasper, still flustered, cleared his throat. "Candice is right, Ashlie. She was invaluable. A true professional." He shot Candice a placating look, then turned to me, his eyes pleading. "But she was just an assistant. You're my wife. My one and only."
He took my hand, his touch sending a shiver of revulsion down my spine. "Come, Ashlie. Let's leave the past behind. Look." He led me to the expansive balcony overlooking Central Park. The city lights twinkled like scattered diamonds in the inky blackness, the fresh snow giving everything a magical, ethereal glow.
"It's beautiful," he murmured, his voice softer, trying to recapture a moment of intimacy. He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket. My heart hammered against my ribs, a dull, painful beat. Not again. "Ashlie Hewitt," he began, dropping to one knee amidst the falling snowflakes, the same dramatic gesture he'd made all those years ago, "will you renew our vows? Will you give me, give us, another chance? Let's reset everything. Let's start over, just like it was meant to be."
The scene was a grotesque echo. The city lights, the snow falling, the man on one knee. It was almost identical to the night he first proposed.
And just like that, I was back there. Not in the penthouse suite, but on a rooftop restaurant, downtown, five years ago. It was a corporate gala, the air thick with tension and champagne. Jasper' s company, 'Quantum Leap Tech,' was on the cusp of its IPO, poised to become a billion-dollar sensation. He was the golden boy, the visionary. I was his adoring wife, his marketing director, utterly devoted.
We were celebrating, clinking glasses with investors, when the whispers started. Discrepancies. Embezzlement. The words spread like wildfire, threatening to engulf everything Jasper had built.
I found him cornered, his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead. Candice, even then, was hovering, her eyes sharp, her hand discreetly on his arm.
"Ashlie," he'd pleaded, pulling me aside, his voice a frantic whisper. "They found it. The missing funds. The inflated numbers. It'll destroy the IPO. It'll destroy us."
"But... how?" I'd asked, my mind reeling. I handled the marketing, the outward-facing image. The financials were Jasper's domain, overseen by his head of finance and, technically, Candice.
"It was a clerical error," he insisted, his eyes wide and desperate. "A mistake in the books. But if I take the blame, the board will fire me. They'll pull the IPO. Everything will be gone."
He gripped my hands, his touch scorching. "But if you confess to being misled, to making a 'mistake' in reporting numbers for marketing, they'll be lenient. A short sentence, a slap on the wrist. I swear, Ashlie. I'll take care of you. I'll fight for you. We'll get through this. It's the only way to save our future."
He painted a picture so vivid, so terrifying, of our future crumbling, of him being ruined, that I believed him. I loved him, truly. I believed in "ride or die" love. I believed I was saving him, saving us.
Now, on this freezing balcony, I saw it all with horrifying clarity. The "clerical error" was likely Candice's doing, or at least, she knew about it. And Jasper, my charming, brilliant Jasper, had sacrificed his wife to save his assistant, his stock price, and his precious public image. He had chosen money over me, then rationalized it as saving "our future." My future was five years of hell. His future was billions.
The memory was a cold knife twisting in my gut. I looked down at Jasper, still on one knee, the diamond sparkling in the artificial light. He had no idea how much I saw now. How little I loved him.
"No, Jasper," I said, my voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "I won't."
His face registered shock, then confusion. "Ashlie? What are you saying? I thought... I thought this is what you wanted."
"What I wanted died five years ago, Jasper," I told him, stepping back from the railing, the cold air seeping into my bones. "Along with my belief in your promises."
He stood up, his face pale. "But... we can fix this. We can rebuild. I've waited for you, Ashlie. I've kept our memories alive."
"You kept your company alive, Jasper," I corrected him, my voice chillingly calm. "And you let someone else manage your heartbreak. I'm not that woman anymore. I don't believe in fairy tales. Especially not ones where the prince throws his princess to the wolves."
I turned my back on him, walked back into the warmth of the suite. "I'm tired, Jasper. I'll sleep in the guest room."
His voice, raw and desperate, followed me. "Ashlie, please. Don't do this. Don't punish me."
I didn't answer. I just closed the guest room door softly behind me, the click echoing in the cavernous suite. The bed was soft, the sheets luxurious. A far cry from the cot I'd slept on for five years. But the comfort felt hollow. Because even in this opulent cage, I was still just a pawn in Jasper Albert's carefully constructed life. The bitterness was a physical ache behind my ribs. The girl who loved him would have cried. The woman I was now felt only a profound, icy numbness.