Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 220

Evander’s grip tightened around his teacup. His voice came out low and hoarse. “Do I really seem that biased toward her?”

Mrs. Fontaine hesitated, stumbling over her words. “Well… Director Winthrop said it herself, sir. You never interfere in her affairs. She even told me you despise the Sterlings—so even if I went after someone from that family, you’d never blame her for it!”

She was just telling the truth. Honestly, if Tricia hadn’t given her that assurance, would she ever have dared to go that far?

As soon as she finished speaking, the man fell completely silent.

A heavy, funereal hush settled over the private lounge.

He said nothing. Mrs. Fontaine didn’t dare utter another word. Several long minutes passed before Evander finally dismissed her with a wave.

Only when she left the lounge did Mrs. Fontaine finally breathe again. This wasn’t betrayal—she was just protecting herself.

Evander remained sprawled on the sofa for a long time, shadows darkening his features. He looked utterly spent.

To outsiders, did it really seem like he indulged Tricia that much?

Was that how Charlotte saw him, too?

Was that why…

She hated him.

He couldn’t tell anymore if the pain in his side was from the knife wound or if it was his chest that hurt. Either way, he felt like hell.

Natalie shot him a look.

Now, you finally realize how far you let that manipulative woman get? Not even worth the breath to scold you.

…

It was late by the time Evander returned to Tranquility Manor. The living room was shrouded in darkness. He flicked on the hidden lights and made his way to the bedroom, only to find the door locked from the inside.

His brow furrowed.

It wasn’t the first time Charlotte had locked him out.

Clearly, she still resented him.

He didn’t knock. He had no intention of waking her or starting another argument. Instead, he silently turned and went to the guest room for the night.

The next morning, Evander passed by the master bedroom, assuming Charlotte would be up by now. He knocked, hoping for a real conversation.

But no matter how long he waited, there was no answer.

And Lana hadn’t shown up for work, either.

A creeping unease began to take hold. He called Lana. “Did Mrs. Winthrop go out at all yesterday?”

“Mrs. Winthrop? I wouldn’t know, sir. She called and gave me two days off, that’s all,” Lana replied.

Charlotte gave her time off?

Every word felt like a blade carving into his chest, drawing fresh blood with every line.

[Charlotte, don’t think you can just ignore me on WhatsApp and hide. After Evander found out I tried to take my life, he was so worried—he stayed with me all last night.]

[So what if you posted your marriage certificate in the company group chat? Being the one he doesn’t love still makes you the other woman!]

[Why so silent? It must hurt, right? Knowing your own husband was with another woman all night. Not that I’m trying to upset you, but who told you to cling to Evander like that?]

Evander read through the messages again and again.

Each time, it felt like a fresh wound opening in his heart.

His eyes grew bloodshot, his expression turning icy and murderous. He looked like he might crush the phone in his hand.

[Stop threatening me with divorce—it doesn’t scare me.]

[If anything happens to her, you and the Sterlings can forget about living in peace.]

[You’ve already taken everything she ever wanted. Even if I asked you to tolerate her, to give way to her, you’d just have to endure it.]

Suddenly, his own words to Charlotte echoed in his mind. Only now did he realize just how cruel he’d been to her.

As she’d said—if only he’d believed her, even once.

Just once.