Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 194

The housekeeper, nerves taut, recounted the incident at the lake to Charlotte. As she listened in silence, Charlotte’s thoughts turned to the web of bruises and scars she’d seen on Hans’s legs. Suspicion began to take root.

“Can you do me a favor?” she asked quietly.

The housekeeper nodded. “Of course, ma’am. Whatever you need.”

“When the boy’s asleep, could you take a few pictures for me? Focus on his upper legs, and try to get them as clear as possible.” Charlotte finished, exchanged contact details, and transferred her some money. “And please—don’t let anyone else know about this.”

The housekeeper didn’t quite understand Charlotte’s request, but the money spoke for itself. She agreed.

As dusk settled over Tranquility Manor, Charlotte sat at the bar, sipping freshly pressed juice, waiting. At last, her phone buzzed: the housekeeper had sent several photos.

Under the lamplight, Hans’s legs were a mess of angry bruises and ragged scars. His knees were pitted with old wounds, some barely healed.

Charlotte saved the images, her mind racing. She forwarded them to Jonathan, asking for his help in gathering evidence of Tricia’s abuse.

Jonathan replied almost immediately: [Alright.]

He stared at the pictures for a long time, torn.

If he helped Charlotte, Evander would learn the truth about Tricia—and her downfall would do him no favors.

Leaning back, he drained his glass, wrestling with himself.

The Howard family still owed him. He couldn’t just—

Even so, after weighing his options, Jonathan called Tricia.

The moment Tricia heard that Charlotte had gotten hold of the photos of Hans’s injuries, panic seized her. She paced the living room, gnawing at her thumbnail. “I knew it—she must have figured something out when she saw Hans last time! But I never thought it would come to this!”

She’d been careful to leave scars only on the boy’s legs—never his arms or face—in case Evander noticed. When Hans had fallen down the stairs and was unconscious, she’d refused to let Evander near his legs. And now Charlotte had pictures.

Was Charlotte planning to tell Evander?

Otherwise, how could she have gotten away with so much for so long?

But something nagged at Charlotte’s mind. Once or twice might be luck, but every time? No direct evidence, surveillance footage always conveniently missing? It was just too coincidental.

Was Tricia really acting alone?

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan said, placing his hand over hers with a reassuring smile. “I’ll do what I can. Just give me some time.”

Charlotte froze, glancing at his hand before awkwardly pulling away. “Thank you.”

Jonathan’s smile faded just a touch as he drew his hand back, masking his disappointment.

Just then, his phone began to ring on the table.

The caller ID read “Rachel.”