Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 16

Lana laughed, her voice warm with praise. "It's Mr. Howard in the kitchen this morning! I never would've guessed he's such a talented cook. Mrs. Howard, you really are lucky!"

Charlotte gazed at Evander's back as he moved around the kitchen, a tangle of emotions tightening in her chest.

She'd only learned about Evander's cooking skills from Genevieve Howard, his cousin. Like the rest of the Howard family, Genevieve had never cared for Charlotte. She knew all about Evander's history with Tricia—and made a point of reminding Charlotte at every opportunity, relishing the chance to compare the two women, bragging about how deeply Evander had once loved Tricia.

Evander had learned to cook for Tricia, not her. He'd never bothered to cook for his own wife. But for Tricia, he'd made the effort.

And now, out of the blue, he was making breakfast. For her.

Charlotte's heart twisted painfully. She didn't understand it. For years, he'd been cold and distant, barely acknowledging her existence. But lately, he seemed…different. Was he trying to leave her with a good impression? Was there something he regretted?

Evander brought two plates to the table. "You're up?" he asked, placing breakfast before her.

It was lasagna—rich, layered, and golden.

He slid her plate closer before taking his seat. "I just made something simple. It's sweet, you might like it."

Lana helped her with her chair, and Charlotte sat down, eyeing the meal. She'd never liked sweet dishes; he'd just never bothered to notice.

Never mind, she thought. They were bound for divorce soon anyway.

"Thank you," Charlotte replied politely, her tone distant.

Evander's eyes narrowed as he watched her.

Lana grinned from the side. "Mrs. Howard, Mr. Howard really dotes on you."

Dotes on her? Charlotte's expression stiffened. If this was affection, she could do without it.

Evander picked up his knife and fork, eating with practiced elegance. "My wife works hard," he said smoothly, "it's only right that I take care of her sometimes."

Charlotte said nothing.

Lana, still beaming, looked at Evander as if he were the world's most perfect husband. Men like him were a rare find, she thought.

After Lana left to tidy up, only Charlotte and Evander remained at the table.

Charlotte didn't dwell on his words. Evander always put on a gentlemanly act in front of Lana—after all, Lana was the only person besides the Howards who knew about their marriage. And with Evander's pride, he'd never let anyone find fault with him as a husband. Their secretive marriage only made things easier for him. One day, when he married Tricia and gave Hans a proper name, everything would be above board—Tricia wouldn't even be seen as a homewrecker.

Noticing Charlotte's ashen face, Evander's lips pressed into a thin line. His tone softened, just slightly. "Don't worry. She won't threaten your position."

He meant her position as lead surgeon. He didn't bother mentioning her status as Mrs. Howard. That, he assumed, was understood.

Her position. Was that all that was left?

Charlotte let out a hollow laugh and set down her utensils. "Don't worry. I won't hold her back for long."

She'd be transferred soon anyway. She was ready to let go of everything—even the title of Mrs. Howard.

None of it mattered anymore.

She stood and returned to her bedroom.

Evander watched her retreating figure, his fingers drumming absently against the tabletop, his eyes clouded and unreadable.

He could sense the change in her lately—too deliberate, too obvious. But then he reminded himself: she still needed him. Whatever suspicion crept into his mind, he dismissed it. There was no need to think further.