Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 268

Natalie hurried over. “Mr. Howard, are you alright?”

He waved her off, already fishing a cigarette from his pocket. “Find out who bought the old Sterling property. Get in touch with them—I’m willing to pay more, whatever it takes. I want that house back.”

There was nothing he could do about the Sterlings’ deaths. But Hiram’s life—he’d fight for that. And as for what rightfully belonged to the Sterlings, he’d make sure it was returned, even if he had to claim it on her behalf.

If she wanted to live in the old Sterling place, he’d move in with her. And if those distant relatives tried to bother her again, he’d handle every last one of them.

…

The Pembrokes landed in Riverspire City in a state of agitation, having heard their son had ended up in the hospital after a fight. They went straight from the airport to Jonathan’s room.

“Jonathan!” Abner Pembroke swung open the door, he and his wife Chrystal hurrying to the bedside.

Jonathan glanced up. “Dad, Mom—what are you doing here?”

Abner stared at the bandages wrapping Jonathan’s head, a mixture of anger and worry darkening his face. “You think I’m going to sit back while I hear my son’s been beaten half to death?”

Jonathan stayed silent.

“Who did this to you?” Abner demanded.

Jonathan gave a short, bitter laugh. “Does it really matter? Even if you knew, what could you do about it?”

Abner bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean? Unless—”

“It was Evander,” Jonathan cut in. “He did it.”

Abner stiffened. At the mention of the Howard family, Chrystal’s expression soured as well.

Abner hesitated, torn, then muttered, “Of course I’ll see justice done. I’ll— I’ll go speak to Rosemary myself.”

Chrystal scoffed, clenching her fists. “And what good will that do? Rosemary’s always doted on her grandson. She’s not about to take our side.”

“Rosemary’s always been fair—she’ll listen to reason—”

“Reason? You really think the Howards are going to humble themselves for our sake?”

Abner glanced at his wife, remembering the awkward history between her and the Howard family.

“If you’re going to argue, take it outside. I’m exhausted,” Jonathan said, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes.

“I heard she works at District General Hospital.”

…

The next morning, Charlotte finally returned to the hospital. Noreen, who hadn’t seen her for several days, greeted her with a teasing grin. “I thought you’d quit and gone back home to be a lady of leisure!”

Charlotte blinked. “Who said I’d do that?”

“Well, rumor has it your ex-husband made quite the scene at the auction. Who would have thought he’s that Howard from the famous family?” Noreen nudged her. “Come on, most women would kill to be a society wife—who’d still bother coming to work?”

Charlotte just shrugged. “I like working.”

Noreen gaped. “But the Howards are loaded! You really don’t have to—”

Charlotte headed for the front desk and clocked in. “Their money isn’t mine.”

Before Noreen could respond, a commanding voice echoed down the hallway. “Which one of you is Charlotte?”

A formidable, impeccably dressed middle-aged woman strode out of the elevator, her presence sending a wave of tension through the corridor.