A Divorce He Regrets (Raina and Alexander) novel Chapter 107

ADELAIDE

Raina wouldn’t know what hit her. The thought circled in my mind like a mantra as I watched her sip the tonic, completely unaware. Adelaide. That’s who they should’ve revered, not this naive, doe-eyed woman sitting in front of me. How dare she walk in here like she owns the place?

"Thank you, Adelaide," she said softly, offering a small, tired smile as she set the glass down.

I forced my lips into a smile, sweet and rehearsed, though every fiber of me itched with contempt. "Of course, Miss Raina," I replied, my tone dripping with fake politeness. “Goodnight.”

She nodded absentmindedly, already turning her attention to the papers scattered across her desk. I stepped back, careful not to show the malice lurking beneath my composed facade, and slipped out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, my expression darkened. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms as I stalked down the hallway. That woman. That insufferable, clueless woman.

How dare she show up here and act like she runs the place? I had spent years in this house, bending over backward to ensure everything ran perfectly, taking care of the family, and enduring their condescension like some obedient dog. And now? Now they barely acknowledged my sacrifices.

“No, no,” I muttered to myself as I descended the grand staircase, each step echoing my anger. “She doesn’t deserve any of it. None of it.”

When I reached the kitchen, I leaned against the counter, my mind buzzing with the venomous thoughts I could never say aloud. Five years of carefully hiding my disdain, my jealousy, my hatred. And now, Raina was back—alive, thriving, and completely oblivious to the storm brewing around her.

I smirked bitterly, the image of her sipping the tonic replaying in my head. She thought I cared about her. That was the best part. Each sip brought her closer to her inevitable end, and she had no clue.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” I whispered, my voice low and dripping with malice. “Better yet, you should’ve died years ago.”

“She’s ruining everything,” I hissed under my breath, pacing the kitchen where I had taken refuge from my swirling thoughts. The rage was bubbling over now, spilling out into venomous mutters. “I’ll kill her. I swear I’ll kill her.”

The words felt right, natural, like a solution I’d been holding back for too long. I stopped pacing, glaring at the reflection of myself in the darkened window.

“She and those little brats of hers.” My voice was barely a whisper now, tinged with madness. “Once they’re out of the picture, everything will be perfect again.”

Raina had no idea the tonic she had been drinking was laced with poison. It was subtle, slow, and devastatingly effective. The same concoction I’d been slipping into her grandfather’s drinks for five years. Five years of waiting, pretending to be the dutiful housekeeper while that stubborn old man refused to just let go.

I carried the empty tonic glass to the kitchen, setting it down with a little more force than necessary. Five years, I thought bitterly, the weight of the years pressing on me. Every day he woke up, stubbornly alive, was another day I had to smile and serve like nothing was happening. Nathan’s plan was to take care of him slowly and methodically, but honestly, I was running out of patience.