Too Late for Your Regret

To Caleb, I’d always been the villain, the cruel, scheming wife who nearly killed his true love.

It all started since the night Emily returned to the country. Our company hosted an extravagant gala, and Caleb didn’t bother hiding his affection for her. He brought her as his date. The two of them glided through the crowd like a golden couple, arms linked, laughing and whispering as if I, his wife, were nothing but an afterthought.

I remembered ducking into a quiet corner, struggling to hold back my tears as guests whispered behind their champagne glasses, eyes flicking between us, hungry for a scandal.

Emily found me there, her eyes brimming with false sympathy as she approached. She offered meaningless small talk, trying to paint herself as the considerate ex. I turned to leave, desperate to escape the humiliation.

That’s when it happened.

I heard a sudden scream, and when I looked back, Emily was tumbling down the staircase, her body twisting violently before crashing onto the marble floor below.

Blood pooled around her head, the vibrant red seeping into the polished white floor. The room fell deathly silent. My mind froze, and my feet were cemented to the spot.

Caleb’s voice shattered the silence as he rushed over, his frantic eyes locking with mine for a fleeting second. I opened my mouth to deny it, to scream that it wasn’t me, but the shock on his face turned to something colder, something I had never seen before—pure, unfiltered hatred.

The headlines the next morning were ruthless: "CEO’s Wife Pushes Mistress Down Stairs—Malicious Attempt at Murder".

Caleb spent a fortune burying the scandal, smothering the flames before they consumed our family’s reputation. However, he never looked at me the same again.

He took me to the hospital, and as I clutched the bouquet he had carefully chosen for her, my mind numb, he led me to her recovery room.

Emily was lying in bed with a ghostly pale expression. She managed a weak smile for Caleb, but the moment she saw me, her eyes filled with a different kind of fear.

"Grace..." she whispered, shrinking back into her pillows, her voice trembling, "I know you hate me... I know you think I stole Caleb from you... but I don’t blame you for pushing me. It’s my fault... I came back..."

I took a step closer, trying to find the words, but she suddenly let out a piercing scream, clutching her sheets as if I were about to strike her down.

"Don’t come near me! Please, Grace, I won’t come between you and Caleb anymore. Just... just don’t hurt me again!"

The room erupted into chaos. One of Emily’s friends, a wealthy heiress, lunged forward, shoving me back. I stumbled, landing hard on the cold tile floor.

"How dare you show your face here?" she spat, her manicured hand pointed accusingly at me. "If you’re truly sorry, then you should be on your knees, begging for her forgiveness."

"Enough," Emily whispered, her voice strained but somehow still managing a small, pitiful smile. "Don’t push her... she didn’t mean it..."

I tried to stand, gripping the edge of a nearby chair, but before I could catch my breath, Caleb’s strong hands clamped down on my shoulders, forcing me back to the floor.

"They’re right," he said, his voice low and icy. "You owe her this. Get down. Apologize."

I twisted beneath his grasp, struggling against the weight of his betrayal. "I didn’t push her! Why won’t you believe me?"

He averted his eyes, his jaw clenched, the grip on my shoulders tightening with every passing second. He said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.

I didn’t remember much after that. The room spun, the lights blurred, and darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, a doctor delivered the news that would have once filled me with pure, unfiltered joy. I was two months pregnant.

For a while, that tiny heartbeat within me felt like the one good thing left in my shattered world. Perhaps out of guilt or some twisted sense of responsibility, Caleb eased his grip on my life. He stopped dragging me to the hospital to grovel before Emily. He even started coming home earlier, his temper less volatile, his words less cutting.

I clung to the hope that maybe the arrival of our child would bring us back together, and we could finally be the family I had always dreamed of.

However, I should have known better.

When I was six months pregnant, Caleb came home earlier than usual, a rare event in itself. He carried a folder, his face unreadable. He sat beside me on the couch, his arm pulling me into his chest, the warmth of his embrace so painfully familiar that my heart skipped a beat.

"Grace," he murmured, his breath tickling my ear, "you know Emily has kidney failure."

I froze, my body stiffening in his grasp. "Yes... and?"

He tightened his hold on me, his tone dropping to a whisper, almost gentle. "The doctors ran some tests. You’re a perfect match."

My heart turned to ice, the room spinning around me. "Caleb... what are you saying?"

He leaned back, his eyes hardening as he looked down at me. "End the pregnancy. Donate your kidney. You owe her that much. Consider it your penance."

My blood ran cold. I felt the color drain from my face, my limbs going numb.

So that was it. His recent kindness, the fragile peace between us—it had all been a prelude to this.

A prelude to my ultimate betrayal.

To him, my life had always been nothing more than a bargaining chip, a price he was more than willing to pay for the woman he truly loved.

This was his revenge. His final, merciless strike.