Too Late To Regret My Ex-Husband

Just the way

eca penthouse. He pressed the back of a silver spoon against the wagyu steak searing in the cast-iron pan. It offered the perfect

towel, then checked the vintag

ting long, dancing shadows against the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Manhattan skyline. He walked over to the table and nudged a salad fork two millimeters to the right. It

om the granite island. Th

ges app. He typed, his fingers moving with a prac

bubble appear. He stared at it, willin

was pooling on the cutting board, a dark, savory red. He poured two glasses of 1996 Dom Pérignon. Th

u

one so fast he almost

a board meeting

n. His shoulders slumped, the fabric of his bespoke suit su

oing to be cold. He looked at th

Okay. Happy A

ter. He didn't slam it. He placed it gently

and red. He felt small. In this penthouse, surrounded by millions of d

e. Smoke curled up, thin gray ribbons that smelled of burnt wick, re

i

ication sound cut throu

He had practically begged to keep these alerts active years ago, citing "cybersecurity," but in truth, it was

oved: $5,600 at

h trapped in his throat

s the Meatpacking District. That was deep bass, str

timestamp. 8:

business partner, laughing over scotch a week ago. "The Velvet has th

ysical knot of nausea tig

that. He switched to the burner account he kept for moments of weakn

uys holding bottles of vodka with sparklers attached. He s

he st

minutes ago by Chloe Pric

ud music distorting the audio. Chloe was screaming something

action of a second, there was a

ideo. He zoomed in,

-made Cartier panther bracelet with emerald eyes. He recognized it instantly because he had spent three month

d was E

g a charcoal grey suit with a distinct pinstripe. Hank St

ly. First, there was a coldness. A freezing sensation tha

seared steak. The aligned silverware. The patheti

button it. He didn't check the mirror. He wal

ind him with a finality that echoed in the empty corridor.