Too Late For His Regret Now

For three years, I, Aubrey, had poured my heart into serving Kieran and his mother, Jeanie. I cooked, cleaned, and endured Jeanie's sharp insults and Kieran's quiet neglect, all while believing I was his fiancée, building a future for us after sacrificing my own professional dreams. This illusion shattered one night when I overheard Jeanie tell Kieran he needed to marry "Carolina" for her family's money, coldly dismissing me as a "free nanny" and a "temporary substitute."

Later, I discovered Kieran's phone, unlocked with the password of our anniversary date, filled with six months of intimate texts from Carolina, plans for a bridal fitting, and a cruel group chat with Jeanie plotting my departure. Lying in bed beside him as he texted his true fiancée, the betrayal was a suffocating weight. The last shred of warmth I held for him vanished, replaced by a cold, metallic resolve.

The next morning, I calmly photographed every damning piece of evidence. I dug out my dusty CPA textbooks, wiping away three years of neglect, and registered for the exam I'd abandoned for him. My ambition, long buried alive, was suddenly breathing again.

It was time to reclaim my life. I would not just leave; I would dismantle everything they built. Watch me burn this house down.

Chapter 1

Aubrey POV:

I set the heavy ceramic baking dish onto the polished mahogany dining table. The heat seared straight through the thin pot holders, blistering the skin on my index fingers.

I didn't make a sound. I just bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. In the foster care system, showing pain only made you a target. It made you a burden. And burdens were always returned.

I pulled my hands back and untied my stained apron. I smoothed down the front of my faded cotton shirt, trying to make myself look presentable, and walked toward the living room.

Jeanie was standing by the fireplace, a crystal flute of champagne in her hand. She looked me up and down, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"You smell like grease," she said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You are going to ruin the Persian rug. It cost more than your life."

I instinctively took a half-step backward off the patterned wool. "I'm sorry, Jeanie."

Kieran sat on the leather sofa, scrolling through his phone. He didn't even look up. He never did. He had spent his entire life bowing to his mother's iron will, and his default setting for any conflict was to pretend it wasn't happening.

I walked over to him, keeping my voice soft. "Dinner is ready."

Kieran just grunted. His thumbs kept flying across the glowing screen.

We moved to the dining room. I pulled out the chair directly to Kieran's right, ready to sit beside the man I had spent three years caring for.

Jeanie tapped her silver fork against her water glass. The sharp ping echoed in the large room.

"Not there," Jeanie ordered, pointing the tines of her fork toward the far end of the long table, where the chandelier's light didn't reach. "Sit at the end."

My fingers froze on the back of the mahogany chair. I looked at Kieran, waiting for him to say something. To defend me. To claim me as his fiancée.

Kieran picked up his wine glass, took a slow sip, and deliberately looked at the blank wall opposite him.

A massive wave of loss crashed into my chest, heavy and suffocating. I let go of the chair. I walked to the dark end of the table and sat down in the shadows.

Jeanie sawed at her meat. "This steak is overcooked," she complained loudly. "It's like chewing leather. Completely unacceptable for polite society."

I stared down at my plate. I picked up a forkful of dry asparagus and forced it into my mouth. My throat was so tight I could barely swallow.

The rest of the dinner passed in a suffocating, dead silence, broken only by Jeanie's relentless, one-sided criticisms of the food, the table setting, and the air I breathed.

When they finished, Jeanie stood up and dropped her napkin on her plate. "Wash the hand-painted porcelain plates. By hand. Do not put them in the dishwasher. You will chip them."

I stood up, gathering the dirty plates. I watched Kieran offer his arm to his mother, escorting her down the hall toward the study.

I carried the dishes to the kitchen. The water from the tap was freezing cold. It soaked my raw, blistered hands, but I just kept scrubbing mechanically.

When the last plate was drying on the rack, I wiped my hands on a towel. I prepared a silver tray with two cups of Earl Grey tea and walked down the hallway toward the study.

The heavy red wood door was cracked open.

I lifted my hand to knock, but Jeanie's hushed voice drifted through the gap. I heard the name *Carolina*.

My feet rooted to the floor. The tray in my hands suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. My knuckles turned stark white.

"The Cash family supply chain is bleeding," Jeanie said. "We need the capital injection from Carolina's family. You know what you have to do."

"But Aubrey..." Kieran's voice was hesitant. "She takes good care of us."

Jeanie let out a cold, mocking laugh. "She is a free nanny, Kieran. She does the laundry and cooks the meals. That's it."

It felt like a sledgehammer slammed directly into my ribs. My lungs seized. For three years, I had scrubbed their floors and catered to their every whim, believing I was earning a real family. The illusion shattered into a million jagged pieces.

Inside the room, three agonizing seconds of silence ticked by.

"You're right," Kieran finally said. "I'll handle it."

The delicate porcelain teacups rattled against the silver tray. I bit down on my lower lip so hard the skin broke, forcing back the sob clawing up my throat.

I took a slow, silent step backward into the dark hallway.

"She is just a temporary substitute," Jeanie added.

I heard everything.

Aubrey POV:

I walked into the cramped guest room like a ghost. This was where I slept. It was also where Jeanie stored her out-of-season coats and old luggage. I didn't even have the right to share the master bedroom's walk-in closet.

I sat down on a taped-up cardboard box, pulled my knees to my chest, and wrapped my arms around my legs. My heart was slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Down the hall, heavy footsteps approached the master bedroom. Kieran was turning in for the night. A minute later, the muffled sound of the shower running echoed through the wall.

I took a deep, shaky breath. I stood up. I had to know for sure.

I pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The air was thick with the scent of Kieran's expensive cedarwood cologne.

The bathroom door was shut tight. The rushing water masked the sound of my bare feet on the hardwood floor.

Kieran's black smartphone was tossed carelessly on the messy duvet.

I stared at the sleek black rectangle. It looked like a bomb waiting to detonate.

I stepped closer to the edge of the bed. My fingers were trembling uncontrollably.

Suddenly, the screen lit up. A short, sharp vibration buzzed against the mattress.

I gasped and snatched my hand back as if the phone had burned me.

A notification popped up on the lock screen. The sender's name was *Carolina*.

I leaned in, holding my breath. The message preview read: *Goodnight, handsome. Still thinking about your hands on me.*

My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit.

A second later, another message popped up: *Looking forward to the bridal fitting tomorrow.*

*Bridal fitting.*

Those two words acted like a serrated knife dragging across my retinas.

A wave of intense dizziness hit me. The room spun. I reached out and gripped the edge of the heavy oak nightstand to keep from collapsing to the floor.

The sound of the shower abruptly stopped.

Panic spiked through my veins. My heart hammered so violently it hurt. I spun around, ready to sprint out of the bedroom.

But my knees buckled. My legs felt like lead. I couldn't move fast enough to reach the door.

The brass handle of the bathroom door began to turn.

Survival instinct took over. I dove onto Kieran's side of the bed, yanked the heavy duvet over my shoulders, and turned my back to the bathroom.

The door opened. Kieran stepped out, a towel around his waist, damp heat rolling off his skin.

Through my eyelashes, I saw his shadow fall over the bed. He stopped. He looked at the lump I made under the covers. I could feel his frown.

He walked over to the bed, picked up his phone, and tapped the screen. A small, satisfied smile touched his lips.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I slowed my breathing, making it deep and even. It was a trick I learned in the foster homes when the older kids came looking for a punching bag in the dark.

Kieran didn't try to wake me. He just reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp.

The room plunged into darkness. The mattress dipped as Kieran climbed into bed behind me.

I lay perfectly still. I could feel the subtle, rhythmic vibrations of the mattress. He was typing. He was replying to her, right beside me. Every vibration was a boot stomping on my dignity.

Hot tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. They slid down my nose and soaked silently into the high-thread-count cotton pillowcase.

I opened my eyes to the dark room. The last shred of warmth I held for this man vanished into thin air.

"You are completely on your own now."

Aubrey POV:

The pale gray light of early morning crept through the slats of the blinds. My eyes were raw, bloodshot, and completely dry. I hadn't slept a single second.

Beside me, Kieran was dead to the world, letting out a soft, rhythmic snore.

I sat up without making a sound. My eyes locked onto the black phone sitting on his nightstand.

I held my breath and reached across the mattress. My fingertips were ice cold when they brushed the metal casing. I lifted it carefully.

I tapped the screen. The keypad appeared, demanding a six-digit passcode.

I typed in his birthdate. The screen shook. *Incorrect.*

I gritted my teeth. I typed in the date of our first anniversary. The day he had bought me a cheap silver necklace and promised me forever.

*Click.*

The home screen opened. His arrogance was staggering. He hadn't even bothered to change the password that tied us together, because he never believed I would dare to check.

I tapped the messaging app and typed *Carolina* into the search bar.

A massive wall of text loaded. The chat history stretched back six entire months.

I scrolled up, my chest tight. I saw digital receipts for a diamond tennis bracelet. I saw a screenshot of a three-person group chat with Jeanie, discussing how to make me miserable enough to pack my bags and leave on my own.

I reached into my sweatpants pocket and pulled out my old, cracked phone. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold it steady.

I opened the camera app. I hovered it over his screen, snapping clear, focused photos of every damning conversation and every bank transfer.

Kieran suddenly groaned. He rolled over, his heavy arm flopping blindly onto the empty space where I had been lying just minutes ago.

My heart stopped beating. I instantly pressed the power button on his phone, plunging the screen into darkness. Every muscle in my body went rigid.

Kieran mumbled something incoherent into his pillow and sank back into a deep sleep.

I exhaled a shaky breath. I placed his phone back on the exact spot on the nightstand, matching the angle perfectly.

I slid off the mattress, padded silently out of the master bedroom, and retreated to my junk room.

The moment the door clicked shut, I pressed my back against the cheap wood and gasped for air, like I had just broken the surface of a freezing ocean.

I opened my photo gallery. I stared at the evidence of my humiliation. The sharp pain in my chest slowly hardened into something cold and metallic.

I walked to the darkest corner of the room. I grabbed the edge of a dust-covered cardboard box and dragged it out.

I ripped the old packing tape off with my bare hands. Inside lay a stack of heavy, thick textbooks.

They were my CPA exam prep materials. Three years ago, I was the top student in my business program. I gave it all up to manage Kieran's household when he broke his leg. I broke my own wings to build his nest.

I reached down and wiped the thick layer of dust off the top cover. The rough texture of the paper grounded me.

I flipped open the first page. The margins were filled with my dense, meticulous handwritten notes on corporate tax law.

A spark flared in my hollow chest. The ambition I had buried alive was suddenly breathing again.

I grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned every single book. I stacked them neatly on my wobbly folding table.

I opened my laptop. I typed in the URL for the official CPA examination board.

I stared at the registration deadline blinking on the screen. I moved the cursor over the submit button and pressed down hard.

"It is time to get my life back."