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Too Late For Regret: My Genius Wife Novel Cover

Too Late For Regret: My Genius Wife

I was hemorrhaging on the cold linoleum of the emergency room, my jeans soaked in blood as I begged the nurse to call my husband. I needed Erik’s signature for an emergency surgery to save my life, but he wouldn't pick up. When I finally reached his assistant, the truth hit me harder than the physical pain. Erik was in the same hospital, just a few floors up, giving strict orders not to be disturbed because his sister-in-law, Athena, was having a "difficult" delivery. I signed my own consent form and woke up hollow, the pregnancy gone. Shaking and barely able to walk, I dragged myself to the VIP ward only to find Erik rocking Athena’s baby with a look of pure, paternal love—a look he had never given me. "You’re just trying to pull focus because my brother’s heir was born," he sneered when I finally confronted him at home later that night. "Stop the drama, Carie. Was it a migraine or just cramps this time?" He didn't believe me when I told him I’d lost our child, and he certainly didn't believe me when I told him Athena had intentionally rammed my car two years ago to cause my first miscarriage. To him, I was just "low-stock" trash who couldn't provide an heir, while Athena was the fragile widow who needed his protection. His mother stood there laughing, threatening to freeze my credit cards if I walked out the door, while Erik watched with cold indifference. They thought they had trapped a penniless orphan, but they forgot one thing: I was the one who designed the very empire they were standing on. As I walked out into the blizzard, I didn't just leave a divorce petition on the floor; I triggered the code to short their family stock into the ground. "I'm not just taking my name back, Erik," I whispered as the gates slammed shut. "I'm taking everything."
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Chapter 5

The headlights of the matte black Mercedes G-Wagon, which had been parked discreetly down the snow-covered road, flashed once. The engine growled to life, and the SUV surged forward, crunching over the ice to skid to a halt inches from Carie's knees.

The driver's door flew open. Katy Cash jumped out. She was wearing a leather biker jacket over a silk pajama set, and combat boots.

"Jesus Christ, Carie!"

She saw the blood on Carie's neck first. Her eyes went wide.

"Did he hit you? I swear to God, I will burn that house down with them inside."

"No," Carie said, her voice shaking. "I did it to myself. Just... get me out of here."

Katy didn't ask questions. She grabbed Carie's suitcase and heaved it into the back. She practically carried Carie into the passenger seat.

She blasted the heat. "Here." She threw her cashmere coat over Carie. It smelled like her expensive perfume and cigarettes.

She slammed the car into gear and peeled out, tires spinning on the ice before gripping the asphalt.

Carie watched the side mirror. The Flynn estate disappeared into the white void.

"I grabbed some stuff from your old apartment last week," Katy said, glancing at Carie. "Before Erik changed the locks. It's in the center console."

Carie opened the console.

There was a thick, leather-bound book. Their Wedding.

She opened it. A photo of Erik and Carie cutting the cake. He was smiling at her with that charming, crooked grin that had fooled her so completely.

She felt sick.

She rolled down the window. The cold air rushed in, deafeningly loud.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her windproof Zippo lighter.

"What are you doing?" Katy yelled over the wind.

Carie flicked the lighter. The blue flame danced.

She held it to the corner of the photo album. The paper caught instantly.

She watched the flames lick across Erik's face, turning his smile into black ash.

She held it until the heat singed her fingertips. Then she let go.

The burning book tumbled out onto the snowy highway, a streak of fire in the night.

"Nice," Katy shouted. She floored the gas.

An hour later, they pulled into the underground garage of the Four Seasons in Midtown.

Katy flashed a black Amex card at the front desk. "Presidential Suite. Indefinite stay. No names on the registry."

The room was massive, warm, and safe.

Katy pushed Carie onto the velvet sofa and shoved a mug of hot tea into her hands.

"Okay," she said, sitting on the coffee table in front of Carie. "What's the plan? We sue? We go to the press?"

Carie took a sip of the tea. The warmth spread through her chest, chasing away the chill.

"Laptop," she said.

Katy blinked. "What?"

"Give me your MacBook."

She handed it to Carie.

Carie opened a secure messaging app. "Brice," she typed. "I need you to retrieve some footage. Two years ago. January 14th. 5th and Main intersection. NYC DOT archives. The one I left you access to."

A few moments later, a reply came. "Understood, Mademoiselle. Sending to your secure server now."

Carie opened a terminal window, watching as the encrypted data streamed in. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, decrypting the file.

"What are you doing?" Katy leaned in, watching the lines of code scroll down the screen. "I thought you barely knew how to use Excel."

"I lied," Carie said.

The video file popped up.

"Is that..." Katy gasped.

"The accident," Carie said.

She played it frame by frame.

There was her car, turning left.

And there was the white Range Rover behind her. Athena's car.

It was stopped. Brake lights on.

One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds.

She was waiting. Watching.

Then, the brake lights went off. The front of the car dipped as she slammed on the gas.

Impact.

Carie's car spun into the guardrail.

"Holy shit," Katy whispered. "That wasn't an accident. That was a hit."

"She wanted to kill the baby," Carie said. Her voice was devoid of emotion. "And she succeeded."

"We take this to the FBI," Katy said, reaching for her phone. "Right now."

Carie closed the laptop. "No."

"Carie! She tried to kill you!"

"If we go to the police, the Christian family lawyers will bury it. They'll say the video is inconclusive, or corrupted. Athena will plead insanity. She'll go to a luxury rehab for six months and come out a victim."

Carie looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the Manhattan skyline.

"I don't want her in rehab," she said. "I want her destroyed. I want her to lose everything she thinks makes her valuable. Her reputation. Her money. Her name."

She pulled up a document template.

Separation Agreement.

She filled in the details.

"I'm initiating the separation," she said. "Tonight."

Katy looked at Carie. Really looked at her.

"Who are you?" she asked softly.

Carie turned to her. Her eyes were dry.

"I'm the one who's going to burn them all down."

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