HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 542

Chapter 542

Harold sat there.

And he looked far worse than merely disheveled.

His hands were bound tightly behind the backrest with thick plastic restraints, digging into his wrists until the skin had turned raw and reddened. The expensive shirt he had worn earlier was now wrinkled and torn, several buttons missing. Dust and dried blood stained the chest and sleeves.

His face no longer carried even a trace of the composed image he used to maintain.

The corner of his mouth was split, dried blood trailing down to his chin. One cheek had swollen badly, bruises spreading in shades of red and purple beneath his eye. His left eyelid drooped half-shut from the swelling, while the other eye was bloodshot, tiny vessels burst across the white.

Each breath came heavy, his chest rising slowly, painfully, as if even breathing hurt.

His polished leather shoes were gone. The hem of his trousers was dirty and damp, suggesting he had been dragged before being forced into that chair.

On the floor beneath him, several drops of blood had yet to fully dry.

But what stood out most wasn’t just his injuries.

What stood out even more was the way his head occasionally drooped forward, only to jerk up again with visible effort as if his body had already given up, but his consciousness was being forced to stay awake.

The harsh light shining directly on his face made every injury look more brutal, more exposed, more humiliating.

In stark contrast, a few meters away, Cale sat comfortably in a cushioned chair.

One leg crossed over the other. His suit remained perfectly neat-no wrinkles, no stains, nothing out of place. A lit cigar rested between his fingers, thin trails of smoke curling lazily into the air, forming faint rings before fading away.

His expression was calm. Empty of emotion.

His movements were relaxed, as if he were accustomed to handling situations like this alone. Not like a man confronting an enemy-more like someone simply waiting for a process to unfold exactly as it should.

His eyes never left Harold.

As though the broken figure before him was nothing more than the inevitable result of the choices he had made.

When Harold finally managed to lift his head and look at him, Cale slowly exhaled a stream of smoke.

“Still don’t feel like talking?” he asked flatly.

His voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t threatening.

But the way he spoke made the room feel even colder.

1/3

Us

Chris glanced over from his chair, studying Harold again. He stayed silent for a few seconds, assessing him.

“Worse than I expected,” he commented lightly.

Harold tried to straighten, but his movement was limited. His jaw tightened, though even the smallest motion seemed painful.

“You think this will make me talk?” His voice came out hoarse, rough like sand scraping against metal.

Cale didn’t answer immediately. He simply tapped the ash from his cigar onto the floor, then said quietly,

“Of course not. This is just to help you understand… that this time, there’s nowhere left to run.”

The light above continued to burn without flickering.

And beneath it, for the first time, the certainty in Harold’s eyes dimmed-just slightly.

Among the Miller brothers, Cale was the cruelest. He showed no mercy and had no tolerance for interruption when it came to punishing someone.

In Harold’s original plan, his escape had been flawless. He had prepared everything carefully to ensure he would never be hunted by Cale Miller. Once everything was done-once he had enjoyed the satisfaction of watching the results-he intended to disappear to a remote island.

A place where no one knew him. Where strangers lived quiet lives without questions.

There, he would live peacefully, keeping an eye on the movements of Daven—and Selena, who remained in that house.

But now…

Every plan had fallen apart.

He hadn’t expected men to be waiting for him the moment he stepped out of hiding. He didn’t know when they had discovered his location-he had been certain he had erased every trace.

Damn it.

No. He wouldn’t lose this time.

There was still Selena.

And she would find a way to get him out.

“So… you’re really enjoying this,” Harold rasped.

A strained laugh forced its way out of him, though the movement split the skin at the corner of his lips and sent a sharp sting through his face.

“Enjoy it while you can,” he went on, breathing heavily. “My people won’t just sit back and do nothing.”

Cale exhaled a slow stream of cigar smoke.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify