The CEO's Regret: Too Late To Beg

Bennett introduced Elia as our "angel," the surrogate who would carry the heir his genetic condition supposedly prevented us from having.

But as he guided her to the sofa, fluffing a pillow behind her back while ignoring me standing in the cold draft, I realized the danger wasn't medical.

My suspicions were confirmed at the anniversary gala. I overheard Elia bragging in the restroom—she wasn't a clinical third party. She was his lover of fifteen years. I was just the "safe" wife on paper, the placeholder used to secure his inheritance until the time was right.

When Elia staged a fake fall near the champagne tower, Bennett didn't hesitate.

He roared at me, scooping her up to rush to the hospital for a "shock," leaving me standing alone in the foyer, blood dripping from a shard of glass embedded in my arm.

He didn't look back. Not for a second.

Sitting in the ambulance alone, I didn't cry. I didn't panic.

I realized I wasn't fighting for his attention anymore. I was calculating the cost of my freedom.

While he was holding her hand at the hospital, I returned to the empty house. I walked straight to his study and unlocked the filing cabinet containing the illegal financial records he thought I never checked.

He thought he was building a family.

He didn't realize he was handing me the weapon to dismantle his entire life.