img Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlisle  /  Chapter 2 | 20.00%
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Chapter 2

Word Count: 1212    |    Released on: Today at 17:24

lped her into the house. He guided her into the cavernous living room, where Alistair stood like a

ort she had retrieved from the asphalt. She marched across the marble f

pleaded, her voice raw. "I'm

on that table, a single piece of pa

ore rising to meet hers. A cruel, mocking smile touched his lips. "A

irectly into her veins. The evidence d

Alistair. Not some stranger's. Not some lie Elara fed you. Look

his eyes. Doubt? Memory? But then Elara let out a

ointed a trembling finger at Elara. "The photos from three years ago, she set me up! She just a

ned, and for a moment

to shake. "Alistair, I don't know why she hates me so much," she whispered, her voice br

istair's expression hardened, an

arely a whisper now. "After everything

, his voice flat and final. "And I saw

anger and betrayal in her chest began to cool, solidifying into a hard, dense core of hatred. She s

w what, Alistair? One day-maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year-but one day, you're going to re

re she suddenly let out a sharp gasp, her hand flying to her stomach. "Oh," she moaned, her face contorting

he was across the room, kneeling by her side, hi

rolling back in her head. "Our baby.

room, a whirlwind of fear and fury. At the doorway, he paused, tur

ns to her child, I

he wa

grandfather clock in the corner ticked, each s

ere, her hand pressed to her stomach, feeling the faint flutter of life inside

here he would never find her. But she had no money. No friends. No family who would take her

waves. His face was ravaged, his eyes bloodshot. He didn't look at her. He walked to the coffee ta

manded, his voice

so profound it made her flinch. "Elara lost the baby," he said,

Of course she did," she said, her voice eerily calm. "Of course she did. Tell me,

ce was a whip. "

e the possibility that you've been played? That the

, broken sound. Of course. Of course, this was Elar

ord clear and steady in the

aze, her own eyes now as cold as his. "Alistair Carlisle, you have another chi

left to play. Her l

in his eyes. His gaze dropped to her b

aced by an even deeper

ely. "You really think," he whispered, his voice dripping with contempt, "tha

the last vestiges of the woman who had ever loved him. She straightened her spine, lifting her chin. Her face was p

quietly. And in that moment, something

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