My Ex-Husband's Biggest Regret

Vivian's pov

How dare you, Vivian! Trying to kill an innocent child because you couldn’t bear one yourself? You useless, barren woman! After everything my son has done for you and your pathetic father’s medical bills. You should be grateful we even let you stay this long.

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"Ryan?" I called out, voice soft and hopeful. I set my clutch on the console table and slipped off my heels, padding barefoot toward the living area. "I'm home. You were incredible tonight. I couldn't stop thinking about…"

Oh God, Ryan…..yes, just like that! Don't stop!”A sound stopped me mid-step. Low, rhythmic. A woman's moan, breathy and unrestrained, followed by a deeper groan that I knew too well.

My stomach twisted.

My bare feet froze on the cool marble floor of the foyer.

I suddenly held onto my emerald silk gown.

Ryan had looked straight at me in front of the cameras, and said he loved me more than anything.

But those sounds dragged me forward against my will. One hesitant step then another, my hand trembled violently as I pushed the door open wider, a cold wave of foreboding washing over me.

There they were.

Ryan Lancaster, my husband, his athletic body bare and glistening with sweat, positioned powerfully over his secretary, Vanessa Cole.

Her platinum-blonde hair splayed wildly across my pillows, her curvy figure arching up to meet him shamelessly. She wore nothing but the exact necklace he had clasped around my neck earlier this evening,the one meant for only me. It swung between her breasts with every thrust, catching the low lamplight and throwing mocking sparkles across the rumpled sheets.

"Ye..yeah, oh God ,Ryan…..yes, just like that! Don't stop!" Vanessa gasped, her voice thick with pleasure, as her long nails raked down his back, leaving red trails.

Ryan's response was a deep, guttural groan, his dark brown hair disheveled, half-closed in raw pleasure. His hands gripped her hips possessively, driving into her with a rhythm that spoke of deep familiarity.

The world narrowed around me.

I pressed a shaking hand to my mouth to keep silent.

Tears suddenly blurred my eyes instantly, hot and stinging, but I couldn't tear my gaze away. Shock slammed into me , my chestnut-brown hair suddenly loose around my face. My chest heaved with shallow, painful breaths, each one a knife twisting deeper into my heart.

How could you?

The silent scream tore through my mind. Three years of loving him fiercely, of late nights waiting up with dinner kept warm, of supporting his relentless climb at Lancaster Group, of forcing smiles through tense family dinners with his controlling mother Margaret and calculating father Edward. I had sidelined my own promising career as a biomedical scientist, burying my research dreams because I believed in us. Believed in the charming, ambitious man who had swept me off my feet and promised me the world.

Guilt crashed in alongside the shock,guilt for not seeing the signs sooner, for ignoring the late nights, the distractions, the way his touch had grown distant.

Was it my fault?

Did I fail him somehow?

A choked sob escaped my throat,involuntary.

Ryan's head snapped up.

His blue eyes met mine, widening in a flash of genuine shock.

For a split second, something flickered there,guilt?

Regret?

"Vivian..." Ryan said, his voice rough from exertion but now edged with a mix of irritation, defensiveness, and underlying shock. He finally eased back, sitting up on the edge of the bed, his muscular torso still marked by her nails. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the glass of whiskey on the nightstand. He took a long gulp, as if steeling himself.

"What the hell are you doing back so soon? This... this isn't how I wanted you to find out."

I couldn't breathe.

My chest tightened painfully, I felt the suffocating weight of betrayal. Humiliation burned through me like wildfire, scorching my cheeks and making my knees buckle.

Hot tears suddenly spilled freely down my face, uncontrollable now.

This can't be real.

Please, God, wake me from this nightmare.

"How long?" I whispered, my voice breaking into a shattered sob. The words felt inadequate, too small for the earthquake ripping my soul apart. I wanted to scream until my throat bled, to demand every painful detail, but the lump of agony in my throat nearly choked me silent.

Ryan stood up, pulling on his pants with jerky, unhurried movements .

His suddenly face twisted.. Vanessa lounged back against the pillows, not bothering to cover her curvy form, her blue eyes sparkling with malicious triumph.

"Does it fucking matter, Vivian?" Ryan replied, his tone dripping with disdain but cracking slightly with emotion,and frustration. He stepped forward, towering over me, whiskey glass clutched tightly in his hand.

"You've been... useful. Kept up the perfect wife act for the cameras. But damn it, you knew something was wrong. Or you should have. Vanessa gives me what you can't..what I've needed for so long. Passion. An heir. Gosh, don't look at me like that. It's irritating,this is reality Vivian."

My body trembled violently.

"I loved you Ryan!" I cried out, my voice raw with pain, thick with tears and accusation. "Three years, three fucking years ,Ryan! I gave up everything,my job, my time, my body, my trust. I ignored the signs because I believed in you. And you do this? On our anniversary? After standing on that stage, looking me in the eyes, and telling the entire world you loved me more than anything? How could you?!"

His eyes flashed with shock at my outburst, then guilt, then defensiveness. He stepped even closer, his voice rising with frustrated emotion.

“Vivian! The Lancaster empire demands it,the devoted husband bullshit stabilizes everything. Stock prices, the board, my family. But privately?" He gestured sharply at Vanessa, who watched with a satisfied smirk. "She's pregnant with my child. My heir. And that's something you couldn't give me, no matter how many secret appointments you hid from me. I know it hurts , but I can't keep pretending. You failed us."

Was I not enough?

"You knew?" I gasped, voice hoarse and broken. "You knew about my struggles, my hopes, and still... you betrayed me like this? With her? In our bed?"

Ryan's smirk faltered for a moment, revealing raw guilt and his own conflicted pain before he forced it back.

"Cry about it if you want," he said, but his voice wavered with emotion, less steady now. " She stays , you need to help raise the child, since you can't have one, atheist you get to raise one”.

The revelation hit like a physical slap across my face. I staggered back a step, one hand flying instinctively to my flat stomach as a deep, tearing ache ripped through my core. Pain consumed me.

“You have nowhere to go, you'll eventually come crawling back,I know it in my bones. Your father's medical bills, those expensive treatments keeping him alive and comfortable? They're all tied to my accounts. Without me, you're nothing. A washed-up scientist with no resources, no power, and no one who gives a damn."

His words sliced into the deepest parts of me, I had sacrificed everything to ensure his care. Vanessa's voice cut in, glamorous and venomous, laced with petty triumph. "Poor little broken wife. Run along now. I'll handle everything from here, including the man you couldn't satisfy"

I couldn't bear to look at her. The sight of her in our bed , wearing my anniversary gift, made my chest hurt. Instead, I searched Ryan's familiar blue eyes desperately for any remnant of the man I had married,the one who once held me through my fears. There was only a storm of arrogance, selfishness, lingering shock, and buried guilt. My resilient spirit, though battered, stirred stronger amid the chaos.

Without another word, I turned away on trembling legs. My bare feet carried me down the hallway in a daze, the gown trailing behind like a discarded symbol of our shattered life. I grabbed my clutch, fingers numb and shaking. The elevator descent felt like an eternity in hell, the mirrored walls reflecting a ghost of a woman: swollen emerald eyes, tear-streaked porcelain skin, smeared makeup, and disheveled chestnut hair. I looked utterly broken.

How did I get here?

The question echoed relentlessly as the cab I hailed outside sliced through the glittering, indifferent New York night. Earlier that evening, after the gala's thunderous applause and Ryan's public kiss on my cheek, I had lingered with colleagues, basking in congratulations on our "perfect" marriage. I had walked extra blocks in my heels, heart full and hopeful, before the town car brought me home, excited and blindly trusting.

In the back of the cab, I texted Olivia Bennett, my best friend ,frantically to meet me at a dimly lit bar a few blocks from the penthouse, a place Ryan and I had never visited together. I needed noise, shadows, and the burn of alcohol to survive the next hour.

I arrived first and ordered whiskey. The first glass burned down fast, then another. The sharp taste stung my throat but did nothing to dull the roaring pain in my heart.

Back in the bar, I took another swig of the whiskey as Olivia rushed in and slid into the booth across from me. I was already drunk, my elegant gown rumpled, eyes swollen from tears.

"Vivian!" Her voice cut through the haze, face etched with deep worry. "Why are you doing this? What happened? Did Ryan make you mad?"

Drunk on pain and whiskey, I looked at her with burning emerald eyes. "Liv, I don't want to hear that name right now."

I took another swig, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "I saw him with her. She is pregnant for him,Liv!."

Olivia saw the raw pain etched across my expression and reached across the table to hold my hand tightly. "Vivian, maybe you two can talk it out..."

"There's nothing to talk about," I interrupted decisively, my voice thick with fresh tears and resolve. "I want a divorce. Every time I think about him with that woman, I feel sick to my soul."

Olivia's hazel eyes widened, her grip on my hand steady and loyal. She listened as I poured out my nightmare .

"Are you sure?" she asked gently, her voice filled with concern after I finished. "This changes everything. Once you go down this road, there's no easy way back."

I stared at the amber liquid in my glass. The whiskey burned my throat, but nothing could burn away the images from that night. My fingers tightened around the glass until my knuckles whitened.

"Yes," I said finally, voice hoarse but firm. "I'm leaving him."