Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 106

Evander had acted like he'd never even met Charlotte before, and for a while, Tricia had actually believed him.

But in the end, the truth came out.

She'd discovered the connection between them—she wasn't stupid.

And now that woman was about to waltz right in and take everything; even that old hag was siding with her. How could Tricia not be furious?

Evander stood there, utterly motionless and silent.

Tricia finally let go of his sleeve, stumbling back a few steps. Her sobs were raw and wrenching. "Evander, you promised me…"

"I haven't forgotten what I promised you," he replied, his voice cold but steady.

Tricia froze, her tears halting for a moment.

Evander turned to Genevieve. "Take her home."

With that, he strode away without looking back.

Tricia stared after him in a daze, her face oscillating between deathly pale and an ugly shade of green.

…

Charlotte had barely set foot inside Tranquility Manor when her phone buzzed. It was Jonathan. He'd tracked down the staffer on duty the night Hiram was assaulted—a man named Conrad, who happened to be the nephew of the Commissioner of Revenue.

She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, but the mention of the Commissioner made her pause. Dean Chase's words echoed in her mind.

"What's the Commissioner of Revenue's wife's name?" she asked suddenly.

Jonathan sounded surprised by the question, but answered anyway. "Her name is Tiffany Fontaine. She manages a local bank."

Fontaine…

Of course. There was a connection to Director Fontaine.

But Director Fontaine was still in custody, and not even in the same precinct—there was no way he could have known about what happened to Hiram.

No, someone close to Tricia, someone who could convince the Fontaines' relatives to do her a favor, was pulling the strings.

A face flashed through Charlotte's mind.

She instinctively stepped away.

It was a small, almost meaningless gesture, but for some reason, it stung him deeply.

With a forced nonchalance, he drew his hand back and adjusted his cufflinks. "I've finished looking into the incident at the pool. It turns out I did blame you wrongly."

Charlotte gripped the doorknob, her lips curling in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "So what? Are you here to apologize, Mr. Howard?"

"If you're going to apologize, you might as well include all the other times you've falsely accused me. Oh, and it would be even better if you brought Tricia along to kneel and apologize too."

He scowled. "Don't push your luck, Charlotte."

"I'm pushing my luck?" she laughed, the sound edged with anger. "When you made me kneel and apologize to Tricia's son, did it ever occur to you that I was innocent then too?"

Charlotte's voice trembled with emotion. "Evander, you only believe what you see, or whatever Tricia tells you. Every time I'm accused, it's my fault. But the moment I ask for a little justice, suddenly I'm the one being unreasonable?"

"Are you finished?" he said, stepping closer. His tone was calm, but there was a dangerous edge beneath the surface.

"If you and your grandmother hadn't driven her away back then, she wouldn't have ended up with a stranger, wouldn't have been sold off by her own parents," he said, voice low and tight. "Charlotte, all the suffering Tricia's endured started with you. And while she was going through hell, you became Mrs. Howard." He caught her chin between his fingers, his gaze stormy. "You've already gotten everything she ever wanted. So yes, I expect you to put up with her, to give way to her—even if it's unfair. You owe her that much."