Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 224

Old Mr. Carstair sat in the gazebo with an old friend, locked in a game of chess. He wore a loose, silk robe—fine, pale fabric draping elegantly over his frame. His mostly silver hair was combed back with meticulous care, and his fingers toyed absently with a string of polished prayer beads.

Mr. Lockwood stepped into the gazebo.

Old Mr. Carstair glanced up, his gaze settling on Charlotte just behind. His smile was warm and genuine. “Lottie, you’re here.”

She smiled and dipped her head. “Good afternoon, Professor.”

The middle-aged man playing against Old Mr. Carstair slowly turned. “Dr. Sterling. We meet again.”

“Mr. Rivers?”

“That’s right.” Winston Rivers nodded, then looked to Old Mr. Carstair. “I had no idea your student was Dr. Sterling. No wonder she’s such a talented surgeon at her age…”

“She’s exceptionally gifted—my one and only protégé.” Old Mr. Carstair abandoned his piece, switching from offense to defense. “Well? Now you’ve met her. I hope she didn’t let you down?”

Winston smiled. “Fate has a curious way of arranging things.”

“Lottie, Deputy Commissioner Rivers didn’t give you any trouble, I hope?” Old Mr. Carstair raised an eyebrow. Despite his age, there was a playful spark in his eyes—a mischievousness that never seemed to fade.

Winston looked a little sheepish.

Charlotte took the seat beside her mentor, feigning indignation. “Of course not. I’m your student, after all. If I botched the surgery, it’d be your reputation on the line. Then how could I ever boast about having you as my teacher?”

Old Mr. Carstair let out a hearty laugh. “You’ve grown cheeky over the years, haven’t you?”

After half an hour of pleasant conversation, Winston excused himself for another appointment.

Charlotte and Old Mr. Carstair strolled along the winding path through the endless tea gardens. “Professor, Grandma Rosemary handed us the mitochondrial nanotherapy project, but… do I really have to attend the follow-up meetings with Summit Health Group?”

He gave her a knowing look. “Worried you’ll run into someone you’d rather not see?”

Natalie approached with another man in tow. “You two can talk, Mr. Howard,” she said to Evander, not waiting for a reply before turning on her heel and leaving.

The man shook his head and sat across from Evander, looking as if he’d just left work—he hadn’t even removed his name badge, which read: Child Psychologist.

“So, Mr. Howard, you didn’t drag me here for a therapy session, did you? I only see kids, you know—I’m not licensed for grown men’s broken hearts.”

Evander slid a bottle across the table. “Just drink with me.”

“Natalie said your wife ran off?”

The man popped the cap, grinning as he twisted the knife. “I told you not to get involved with Tricia’s son. He’s not your kid. And now look what happened. What woman could stand her husband running around for another woman’s child—especially when that woman is your ex?”

Evander tipped his head back and finished his drink, a shadow of pain in his eyes. “I thought she wouldn’t care. After all, she put up with six years of insults and scorn after marrying me, never once complaining. How was I supposed to know it actually mattered to her?”