Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 207

Just as the tip of the blade was about to pierce his skin, Charlotte yanked her hand back with all her strength. The scissors slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. “You’re insane!”

He only laughed, pulling her into his arms and cradling her pale face in his hands. “Hate me if you must. Charlotte, you chose to marry me. Even if you regret it now, you’ll have to live with that choice.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened in shock. He kissed her, rough and unforgiving.

She struggled, but Evander, ignoring the pain searing through his wounded side, caught her again and pushed her down onto the bed.

When she fought back harder, Evander gritted his teeth against the pain and tightened his hold, pinning her firmly against him. “Charlotte, I won’t touch you. I promise.”

He made no further move. Charlotte caught the faint, metallic scent of blood and glanced down at the fresh bandages wrapped around his waist—they were already stained red.

“Charlotte.” His voice was raw, barely above a whisper. “It hurts.”

She refused to look at him. “Call a doctor.”

“Aren’t you a doctor?”

She fell silent.

So did he.

For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of his breathing. If not for that, she would have thought he’d died right there.

Eventually, Charlotte slipped out of his arms and pressed the nurse call button.

Without another glance, she walked out of the hospital room.

The next day, when Evander woke, the bandage around his waist had been changed. He assumed it was Charlotte who’d done it, and the corners of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

At least she had a conscience.

Miranda entered the room with the housekeeper trailing behind, carrying breakfast—Charlotte was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Who?” Miranda replied, feigning ignorance, then scoffed. “Charlotte? She left last night. Didn’t stay with you.”

Evander’s brow furrowed slightly.

Originally, they’d dealt with Rachel. When they learned she couldn’t make it and her daughter would be handling things instead, they were still willing to talk.

“Miss Sterling,” the woman began, “your mother showed us the place last week. I heard your family’s lived there for years, and the location is honestly fantastic. Are you really willing to let it go for just three hundred grand?”

That price, for a place in the heart of the city, was an absolute steal.

Charlotte lowered her gaze. “We need to sell quickly—my family and I are leaving town in a few days.”

“Leaving so soon? There’s nothing wrong with the place, is there?”

“No.” Charlotte looked them in the eyes, her voice steady. “My father bought the apartment years ago. After he passed, my relatives have been circling like vultures, trying to take ownership by any means they can. My mother and I have no other options. We don’t want it falling into their hands, so we’re selling.”

Understanding dawned on their faces.

After agreeing on the price, they settled the deal.

Charlotte said her goodbyes at the restaurant, watching the couple leave. Just as she was about to go, a waiter stepped in front of her. “Miss, Mr. Pembroke would like to invite you inside for a moment.”