Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 198

Evander took the file—two full pages of testimony—and read it without so much as a flicker of emotion. He didn’t say a word.

There wasn’t enough evidence to prove attempted murder. Soon enough, the police station released them.

As Tricia stepped out into the sunlight, she spotted Evander standing by his car, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. White smoke curled around his face, half-shrouding the stormy look he wore.

“Evander…” Tricia’s eyes were red, shimmering with tears. “I never imagined something like this would happen. I’m so scared…”

“What were you doing at Vandermere Private Hospital?” He flicked the ash from his cigarette, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

Her face stiffened. “I… I was just there for Genevieve. I wanted to talk to Mr. Rayburn about her. And I happened to run into a nurse friend, so we chatted for a while.”

He frowned. “Genevieve and Wesley’s situation isn’t something you should meddle in.”

“Evander, are you blaming me?”

“Every single thing about Charlotte seems to involve you.” Evander exhaled a long plume of smoke, eyes dark and unreadable. “Tricia, sometimes I have to wonder—were you involved?”

Tricia flinched, grabbing his arm in desperation. “Evander, I wasn’t!” she cried. “Just because Hiram once kidnapped me, and I happened to be there when her father had the heart attack, now you think I’m responsible for her mother’s death too?”

“If I really wanted her dead, why would I make sure everyone knew I was there? I was trying to save her! We could’ve held on until help arrived, but—she let go of our hands.” Tricia’s voice broke. In that moment, her fear was real, her panic genuine.

Evander’s brow furrowed, but before he could reply, his phone rang. It was the hospital.

“Mr. Howard, your wife… she’s not in her room.”

He flicked his cigarette into the gutter. “I’m coming back now.” Sliding into the car, he gave Tricia a brief look. “You’ll have to get a cab.”

Tricia watched the car pull away, her rigid expression finally easing, if only a little. But inside, resentment simmered.

Ten years they’d known each other, and now he suspected her.

He never used to be like this.

…

Jonathan’s chest tightened with guilt.

Yesterday…

If only he’d answered the phone…

“I’m sorry.” In the end, those were the only words he managed.

Charlotte forced a faint smile and looked up at him. “Jonathan, thank you for everything these past few days.”

She stepped around him and walked away.

Jonathan clenched his fists. As she left, it felt like something permanent was ending between them.

On impulse, he rushed after her, catching her arm. “Charlotte, I really am sorry. Yesterday, I didn’t know—”

He never finished. A tall figure strode up out of nowhere, and before Jonathan could react, a fist crashed into his face.