Too Late For Regret, Mr. CEO
Arden woke up hoping last night's intimacy meant her crumbling four-year marriage was finally healing.
Instead, Federico tossed a thick divorce agreement onto the bed.
He coldly accused her of thinking about his brother and announced his perfect ex-girlfriend, Brooklyn, was returning.
To force her signature, the trust fund keeping Arden's mother alive on life support was suddenly frozen.
Federico then kicked Arden out of the master suite, banishing her to a windowless, musty maid's room.
When Brooklyn later faked a car crash to play the victim, Federico didn't hesitate to blame Arden.
He kicked down her door, hauled her up by the collar while she was burning with a severe fever, and threw photos at her face.
The sharp edges sliced her cheek, leaving a trail of blood.
"If you ever touch a single hair on Brooklyn's head again, I will personally bankrupt your family."
Arden stared at the man she had loved since she was fourteen.
He actually believed she was a jealous, calculating murderer.
The sheer, bottomless malice in his eyes shattered the last pathetic ember of hope she had left.
Wiping the blood from her cheek, Arden swallowed a handful of fever pills dry.
Love was dead, and she was done begging.
She put on her sharpest black suit, painted her lips a bold red, and marched straight into his company's executive boardroom to take back her life.
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Chapter 3
Arden pushed open the door to the maid's quarters, dragging her heavy suitcase behind her.
A wave of stale, musty air hit the back of her throat.
The room was suffocatingly small. It held nothing but a narrow twin bed and a chipped wooden wardrobe.
The single window looked out at a solid brick wall, blocking out all natural light.
She laid her suitcase flat on the thin mattress.
Just as she unzipped it to take out her clothes, Brenda leaned against the doorframe, a nasty smirk on her face.
"Since you live back here now, you follow the staff rules," Brenda sneered. "No more playing the grand lady of the house."
Arden did not even look at her.
She reached into her bag, pulled out a framed photo of her mother, and set it carefully on the wobbly nightstand.
Brenda's face flushed with anger at being ignored.
She walked into the room and deliberately kicked Arden's open toiletry bag that was sitting on the floor.
Bottles of lotion and glass serums spilled out, rolling across the cheap linoleum floor.
Arden took a deep breath. She forced the rising heat of anger down into her stomach, crouched down, and started picking up the bottles in silence.
Maeve, the older housekeeper who had worked for the family for decades, walked in carrying a stack of clean sheets.
Seeing the mess, Maeve immediately used her shoulder to shove Brenda out of the way.
"Watch yourself, Brenda," Maeve snapped harshly. "The paperwork isn't finalized yet. She is still Mrs. Monroe."
Brenda rolled her eyes dramatically, let out a loud huff, and twisted her hips as she walked out of the room.
Maeve knelt down, her wrinkled hands gently helping Arden gather the scattered bottles.
She pulled Arden up and led her to sit on the edge of the stiff twin bed.
Maeve leaned in close, dropping her voice to a hushed whisper.
"You have to understand, ma'am. Mr. Federico and his brother Jude fought a bloody war over the family succession years ago."
Maeve explained the rumors that had haunted the staff quarters for years. "The old estate staff all say that during the succession war, Jude used a woman to break Mr. Federico's heart and publicly humiliate him. We don't know the exact boardroom details, but we saw the aftermath."
"He is terrified of betrayal. It makes him blind."
Arden listened to the old family secrets.
It suddenly made sense why Federico lost his mind over the antique necklace, why he was so paranoid about her and Jude.
But understanding his trauma did not erase the cruelty of his actions.
Arden offered a sad, hollow smile and shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore, Maeve. It's too late."
Maeve sighed heavily. She reached deep into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a torn envelope.
She pressed it into Arden's hands.
"This came in the morning mail. Registered letter," Maeve whispered. "Brenda was going to throw it in the trash. I hid it."
Arden frowned. She looked at the return address.
It was from the elite law firm that managed the Monroe family trusts.
She quickly pulled the thick letter out and scanned the first paragraph.
Her pupils dilated. Her heart started slamming against her ribs in a rapid, heavy rhythm.
The letter stated that the specific clause regarding Isolde Mitchell's medical trust in the prenuptial agreement contained ambiguous legal phrasing.
The firm concluded that until a judge officially ruled on the validity of that specific clause, neither party had the legal right to unilaterally terminate the trust payments. The money was temporarily safe from his immediate control, though the impending divorce would eventually sever all ties. Knowing she still had this one piece of legal leverage over her mother's life support was everything.
She clutched the letter to her chest like a shield.
"Thank you, Maeve," Arden said, her voice suddenly firm.
She opened her suitcase, bypassed her comfortable sweatpants, and pulled out a sharp, tailored business suit. She stripped off her casual clothes and dressed quickly.
She needed to get to the sanatorium and the trust bank immediately to find out who actually stopped the money.
Arden walked out of the maid's room.
Her steps were heavy and purposeful as she marched down the long hallway, the previous defeat completely wiped from her posture.
She walked through the massive living room, completely ignoring Brenda's shocked stare, and headed straight for the private elevator.
The metal doors slid shut.
Arden looked at her reflection in the polished steel. Her eyes were no longer red and swollen. They were sharp, focused, and entirely cold.
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7.6
After an exhausting fourteen-hour flight, Katia returned to her Upper East Side penthouse, expecting the quiet comfort of the life she had built.
Instead, she found a pair of familiar red stilettos in the foyer and her fiancé, Caleb, tangled in their bedsheets with his twenty-two-year-old assistant.
She didn't scream or cry. She simply took off her three-carat engagement ring, threw it at his bare chest, and demanded he buy out her half of the penthouse by Friday.
Seeking to numb the sickening disgust, she got blackout drunk and crashed at a luxury hotel, accidentally stumbling into the wrong suite.
Thinking the imposing man inside was a high-end escort hired by her friend, she threw him over her shoulder and spent a wild night with him.
The next morning, she left five thousand dollars on his nightstand with a lipstick-stained note.
"Good Job."
For six years, she had funded Caleb's dreams and built his startup from the ground up, only to be treated like a lifeless ATM.
With ruthless precision, she spent the next two months systematically bankrupting his company, cutting off his venture capital, and erasing his life's work.
She felt no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating need to cleanse herself of his betrayal.
But when Katia finally returned to corporate headquarters to co-lead a massive merger, she literally crashed into the new Vice President.
Strong arms caught her waist, and the sharp scent of cedarwood and whiskey hit her like a freight train.
"You came back," Jackson whispered, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman who had treated him like a cheap gigolo.
9.1
With only fifteen days of cash flow left to save her tech startup, Aida had no choice but to seek a five-million-dollar bridge loan from Brendan Walls, a ruthless billionaire predator.
He agreed to sign the check, but on one sickening condition. He demanded Aida act as bait to get close to his corporate rival, Grayson Lott, treating her like a high-end call girl for a business transaction.
Forced to comply to save her employees, Aida let Grayson take her to a windowless underground club, where he secretly spiked her whiskey.
As the drugs paralyzed her body, triggering horrific flashbacks of a brutal assault from six years ago, Aida locked herself in the bathroom. She had to shatter a mirror and slice her own thigh open with a jagged shard of glass just to stay conscious enough to call Brendan for help.
Brendan's armored SUV immediately smashed through the club's wall to save her, and Grayson was arrested. But lying in the hospital, the horrifying truth finally clicked in Aida's mind.
The rescue was too fast. Brendan’s men hadn't rushed from Midtown; they had been parked outside the entire time. He had watched Grayson drug her and waited for the felony to happen just so he could legally seize Grayson's company. He had gambled her life and trauma for a hostile takeover.
When Brendan casually tossed a signed contract and luxury car keys onto her hospital bed as hush money, the last thread of Aida's sanity snapped.
"The deal is dead. NovaTech is mine. If you ever come near me again, I will kill you."
Bleeding and shaking with icy rage, Aida threw the keys at his chest, formally declaring war on the monster who thought he could buy her soul.
8.5
After four years of marriage, my wealthy husband Brad handed me a $50,000 severance check outside the Manhattan Family Court.
He linked arms with his mistress, Jenna, who flaunted the diamond ring that used to be mine.
"Just take it, Hayley. Take the money and get out of our lives," he sneered, looking at me with absolute disgust.
I tore the check into pieces, but my nightmare was just beginning.
To access my grandfather's trust fund, I had exactly seventy-two hours to get legally married, so I desperately proposed a one-year contract marriage to a poor insurance salesman I met in a dive bar.
When Brad found out, he and his arrogant family cornered me at their estate.
Brad mocked my new husband for being a penniless, money-grubbing parasite, while my former mother-in-law slapped me hard across the face, knocking me to the ground.
"You are trash, just like your mother," she spat, watching my knee bleed onto the sharp gravel.
Jenna gleefully kicked my phone away, shattering the screen and cutting off my only lifeline.
Lying there in the dirt, I stared at the broken glass in absolute despair.
I didn't understand why four years of quiet devotion had earned me nothing but cruel betrayal and endless humiliation from the people I once called family.
Just as I thought I had completely lost, a black Lincoln Navigator slammed to a halt at the gates.
My "penniless" new husband stepped out, radiating a terrifying, righteous fury that made the entire Patton family freeze in horror.
8.2
Trapped in a deadly fire at my own engagement party, my lungs burned as I reached a shaking hand out to my fiancé for help.
He stopped and looked right at me through the thick smoke. But instead of saving me, he wrapped his jacket tightly around my stepsister and ran, leaving me to burn.
I barely survived. But when I woke up in the hospital, my father and stepmother didn't even ask about my injuries.
They threw a stack of legal documents right onto my bed.
"Sign the papers, Avah. Step aside. Jaclyn is far better suited to be Kain's wife."
My fiancé then stormed into the room, publicly humiliating me with false rumors of an illegitimate child and threatening to bankrupt my company.
Four years of swallowing my pride to be the perfect, obedient pawn for our family business, all for nothing.
They threw me to the wolves without a single second of hesitation, expecting me to just lower my head and cry like I always did.
But the fire had burned that pathetic version of me away.
I ripped out my IV, letting the blood drip onto the sheets, and tore their contracts straight down the middle.
"The engagement is over."
I threw my million-dollar ring right at my ex's chest, then picked up the phone to call my trust lawyer. They wanted to take everything from me, so I was going to make them bleed.
8.8
My fiancé, Knox, was the man I’d spent ten years building a life with, the one I’d poured my family’s fortune into. But then I found the lockbox. Inside, a photo of him smiling, his arm around a heavily pregnant woman, marked: *To my only wife Deana.*
I’d been looking for a charger in our Boston penthouse closet when I stumbled upon it. The faded Polaroid showed Knox, younger, beaming, with a heavily pregnant stranger. Its timestamp: "Ten years ago"—the exact year I funded his Ivy League PhD.
Flipping the photo, I saw Knox’s familiar handwriting: *To my only wife Deana and our upcoming miracle.* My world crumbled. The man I’d loved had a wife, making me the unwitting mistress. My opulent life was built on his lies.
His text, "Baby, I'm coming home to *our house*," twisted into a cruel joke. My tears froze. A decade of sacrifices, of family alienation—all for a man who used my money and trust—shredded in my mind. The fragile woman in me vanished; my eyes turned cold and clear. I relocked the box, smoothed the rug, and applied crimson lipstick. Practicing a flawless smile, I whispered, "Welcome home, my sweet liar."
9.3
To escape my abusive adoptive mother selling me to a loan shark for $50,000, I rushed to City Hall to marry a blind date.
In a blind panic, I grabbed the wrong man.
He was Julian Cardenas IV, a billionaire CEO who desperately needed a fake wife to dodge a corporate arranged marriage. We signed the papers on the spot.
He became my legal shield. He moved me into his pristine penthouse and secretly protected me from my family's violent threats. When I broke down crying in the freezing cold, he quietly left me hot cocoa. For the first time in my life, I felt safe.
But then, Julian overheard me complaining to my sister about my constantly breaking-down car, groaning that I had to "get rid of this baby four times."
He thought I meant abortions.
The man who was slowly melting my frozen heart instantly turned to ice. He threw away the dinner he had specially bought for me, his eyes filled with absolute disgust and blinding rage.
I was left entirely confused and terrified. Why did my savior suddenly look at me like I was the most repulsive thing in the world? What had I done to deserve this sudden cruelty?
I thought this fake marriage was my ticket out of hell. I didn't realize I had just locked myself in a cage with a furious, ruthless CEO who now wanted to destroy me.