Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 76

Charlotte didn't want to bother him and was about to politely refuse, but Jonathan seemed to see right through her. "Don't worry about it. We're headed in the same direction anyway, and honestly, finding a driver during the day is a lot tougher than at night. Why not just let my guy drive your car home for you?"

"As for the cost, just pay the usual rate you'd pay for a driving service. That way, you're not taking advantage. Sound fair?"

Charlotte hesitated. She already owed him so much.

But something in his tone put her at ease.

She agreed.

…

Jonathan dropped Charlotte off at Tranquility Manor.

He pulled up outside the main gate. "Is this the place?"

Charlotte nodded and transferred him $40 as payment. Only after she saw the notification on his phone did she open the door and step out.

Jonathan watched her walk into the gated community, then didn't linger. He told his driver to go.

Across the street, a white Audi was parked. Inside sat Tricia.

She watched as Charlotte got out of Jonathan's car and entered the neighborhood, her fingers clenching tight around the steering wheel, face dark with jealousy.

She'd seen that license plate at the Center for Sleep Medicine—it was Mr. Pembroke's car.

So that bitch really was involved with Mr. Pembroke too!

Wasn't it enough to have Mr. Pembroke? Now she wanted to steal Evander as well? She deserved to rot in hell.

Suddenly, a wicked idea flashed through her mind. A plan began to form.

Charlotte keyed in the code and stepped inside the house. As she crossed the threshold, she looked up and saw a man leaning against the bar by the wine cabinet.

He wore only a dark grey shirt, top buttons undone, cuffs rolled up to his elbows, a steel-banded watch gleaming on his wrist.

He looked as if he'd been waiting for a while.

Charlotte blinked in surprise.

Evander had been coming home more often lately—at all hours, and earlier than before.

He lifted his gaze, expression shadowed. "You finally decided to come home?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Mr. Howard?" She let out a dry laugh, with a trace of self-mockery. "Anyone listening would think you've been waiting up for me."

He didn't even hesitate. "I have been waiting for you."

"What about me?"

"Nothing," Charlotte muttered, turning her face away, wanting to break free.

But he moved even closer.

She stiffened, her face pale as she stared at him.

He acted as if nothing was wrong. "Not going to fight back anymore?"

Ever since that night—when he'd been drugged and forced himself on her—the pain, sharper than her first time, had never left her. It still haunted her, a shadow she couldn't shake.

He was a man in his prime; once that hunger was awoken, it became insatiable.

She could barely handle him when he was sober, let alone after he'd been drugged.

Everyone said sex was the ultimate pleasure.

Maybe, but only for people who loved each other.

The thought made her chest clench, a sharp ache spreading through her heart.

Her mind and body recoiled from him—now more than ever.