Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 63

Thinking about all this, Tricia felt a deep unease settle in her chest. The more she examined the details, the more fear gnawed at her—fear that Evander truly didn't care about her anymore.

If Evander withdrew his protection, she knew she'd inevitably fall back into "that person's" hands.

And she'd rather do anything than ever go back to him.

…

Charlotte made her way to the dean's office, knocked politely, and only entered when she heard permission.

Dean Chase set his papers aside and looked up. "Lottie, was it you who called in that report about Director Fontaine?"

He had guessed as much during the staff meeting earlier that day, when the incident was brought up.

Charlotte didn't deny it. "Yes, it was me."

He sighed, his tone heavy with concern. "You weren't thinking, kid. Director Fontaine's brother-in-law is the City's Commissioner of Revenue. If this gets back to him, you know as well as I do he won't let it go quietly."

Charlotte understood he was looking out for her. Out in the real world, degrees and skills were only part of the equation. Connections, favors, and background mattered just as much—if not more.

The hospital was full of talented doctors—plenty more capable than Director Fontaine. But without that family tie, he'd never have landed the department head job.

Dean Chase knew all this. He also knew about Fontaine's shady dealings behind closed doors. If it weren't for the protection Fontaine enjoyed, Dean Chase would never have turned a blind eye.

"I only have six weeks left here," Charlotte said softly. "Once I leave for St. Mary's, what can he do to me?"

Dean Chase looked at her, exasperated. "Six weeks is still a long time, Lottie."

She poured him a fresh cup of tea. "Don't worry, Dean. I know how to look after myself."

After she left, Dean Chase watched her go, lost in thought. In the blink of an eye, he realized, he was nearly at retirement age.

The things he hadn't managed to accomplish in his youth—maybe Charlotte could achieve them for him.

"Who told you to transfer?"

She paused, lifting her chin. "I chose to, because I don't want to work under the same roof as certain people. Satisfied?"

Evander leaned back in her chair, giving her a wry little smile. "You really think a transfer's going to help you hide?"

"Charlotte, if you can't take it, why not just resign? With the status of Mrs. Howard, you could do nothing at all and never worry about a thing. Isn't that what you wanted in the first place?"

Being "Mrs. Howard" meant a life of privilege and comfort.

She could sit at home all day, doing nothing, and still live in luxury—far better off than most.

Charlotte had grown numb to these barbs. Back when she'd first married into the Howard family, her mother-in-law had said the same things. When Charlotte protested that she wanted to make her own way, not just coast by as Mrs. Howard, her mother-in-law had mocked her for being ungrateful—wanting it both ways.

It hadn't been long after Evander's last breakup that she'd married him, with his grandmother's blessing. Aside from the old lady, who in the Howard family would ever believe she hadn't married Evander for money, status, or power?