Too Late For Regret: The Genius Ex-Wife

Seraphina pressed her bare palms flat against the floor-to-ceiling glass. The freezing temperature of the Manhattan blizzard seeped through the thick pane, biting into her skin. She kept her hands there, trying to warm the ice with her own body heat.

She looked down at her flat stomach. A strange, heavy warmth bloomed inside her chest, spreading down to her fingertips. It was a fierce, sudden need to protect.

She turned away from the storm and walked toward the massive black marble kitchen island. Her fingers reached into the pocket of her silk robe. She pulled out the white plastic stick. Two solid red lines stared back at her. She traced the lines with her thumbnail, her pulse thumping against her throat.

The heavy oak front door clicked open. The sound echoed through the silent penthouse. Seraphina's stomach muscles tightened.

She shoved the pregnancy test deep into her pocket and walked quickly toward the foyer.

Alistair stepped inside. A gust of freezing air followed him, carrying the scent of snow and expensive cologne. He shrugged off his custom-tailored wool overcoat, the shoulders dusted with white flakes, and tossed it blindly toward the waiting butler.

Seraphina forced the corners of her mouth up. She reached out, offering to take the leather briefcase from his hand.

Alistair shifted his weight. He stepped to the side, completely avoiding her touch. He walked past her, his heavy footsteps heading straight for the liquor cabinet in the living room.

Seraphina's hand hung in the empty air. The back of her neck burned. She lowered her arm, swallowed the dry lump in her throat, and followed him.

Alistair grabbed a crystal decanter. He poured a generous amount of whiskey over a single large ice cube. The glass clinked sharply. The sound grated against Seraphina's eardrums.

She stopped on the opposite side of the marble island. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs until they ached. She slipped her hand into her pocket.

She pulled out the plastic stick and placed it on the black marble. She pushed it across the smooth surface until it stopped directly in his line of sight.

"I'm pregnant," she said.

She stared at his face, watching for the slightest twitch of his jaw, the smallest shift in his eyes.

Alistair's hand froze halfway to his mouth. His gaze dropped to the two red lines.

He slowly lowered the glass. The ice clinked again. There was no light in his eyes. A thick, terrifying layer of frost settled over his features.

He lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were completely dead. He looked at her as if she were a stranger who had just tracked mud onto his expensive rug.

Seraphina's smile cracked. The air in the room vanished. Her lungs struggled to pull in oxygen.

Alistair turned his head slightly. He looked at his executive assistant, Julian, who stood silently in the shadows near the hallway. Alistair gave a single, sharp nod.

Julian stepped forward. He unzipped his briefcase and pulled out a thick manila envelope.

Julian kept his eyes glued to the floor. He walked to the island and placed the heavy envelope directly on top of the pregnancy test, hiding it from view.

Seraphina's fingers trembled. She reached out and pulled the thick stack of papers from the envelope. The bold black letters at the top of the first page blurred, then sharpened. Divorce Agreement.

Her head snapped up. Her eyes burned. "Why are you doing this?"

Alistair lifted his glass and swallowed the whiskey in one smooth motion. He placed the empty glass down.

"Laelia is back in New York," he said. His voice was flat, devoid of any human emotion.

The name hit Seraphina physically. Her knees gave out for a fraction of a second. She stumbled backward, her hip bumping hard against the barstool.

Alistair walked around the island. He stopped inches from her, forcing her to look up at him. "This two-year game is over, Seraphina. You knew what this was."

Seraphina gripped the edges of the divorce papers. Her knuckles turned stark white. She forced herself to breathe through her nose, fighting the violent shaking in her chest.

She raised a trembling finger and pointed at the envelope hiding the test. "There is a child in there. Your blood."

Alistair let out a short, hollow laugh. "Get rid of it."

A physical blow to her chest would have hurt less. Seraphina's vision tunneled. The cold, brutal reality of the man standing in front of her finally shattered every illusion she had left.

Seraphina stared into Alistair's dead eyes. Acid clawed up the back of her throat. Her stomach violently cramped, a physical rejection of the man standing before her.

She lunged forward and snatched the pregnancy test from beneath the envelope. She pulled it tight against her chest, her arms crossing over her flat stomach in a desperate, primitive shield.

Alistair's jaw tightened. He looked at her with pure annoyance. "Julian. Call the private clinic. Book the procedure for tonight."

Julian pulled his phone from his suit pocket. The rapid, synthetic beeps of the keypad echoed off the high ceilings.

Seraphina's heart slammed against her ribs. Begging would do nothing. She dropped her chin, letting her hair fall forward to hide her eyes. She forced her shoulders to slump, adopting the pathetic, submissive posture he expected.

"Give me a minute," she whispered, her voice shaking perfectly. "I need to change my clothes."

Alistair sneered. He waved his hand dismissively. "Make it fast."

Seraphina turned. She walked toward the long hallway. She forced her legs to move steadily, suppressing the violent tremors shaking her thighs.

She reached the master bedroom and stepped inside. She slammed the heavy oak door shut and twisted the deadbolt. The lock engaged with a loud, solid click.

"Don't try anything stupid, Seraphina," Alistair's voice barked through the thick wood.

She ignored him. She sprinted to the walk-in closet. She grabbed an orange Hermès Kelly bag from the top shelf and dumped its contents onto the floor. Lipsticks and compacts shattered against the hardwood.

She dropped to her knees and ripped open the bottom drawer. She shoved her passport, three stacks of emergency cash, and a bottle of painkillers into the empty bag.

She tore off the silk robe. The fabric pooled at her feet. She pulled on a pair of thick black leggings, a tight thermal shirt, and a heavy windbreaker.

Someone pounded on the bedroom door. "Miss Fletcher," Julian called out. "The car from the clinic is downstairs."

She ignored the balcony. The bedroom door handle rattled violently as Alistair kicked the wood; the doorframe groaned. She threw the strap of the bag across her chest, bolted toward the en-suite bathroom, and locked that door too. She yanked open the utility access panel hidden behind the mirrors-a route she had memorized from the building's blueprints. She squeezed into the narrow, dark maintenance shaft. The freezing draft from the building's ventilation system bit into her cheeks.

She climbed down the interior metal rungs, the darkness swallowing her. The metal was slick with condensation and freezing air. Her sneaker slipped. Her entire body weight dropped. A scream caught in her throat. She clamped her hands tighter around the vertical rails. The friction tore the skin from her palms. Warm blood slicked the freezing metal, but she stopped her fall, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Above her, a deafening crash echoed. The bedroom door splintered open. Alistair rushed into the room, then into the bathroom. He saw the open access panel. His pupils dilated in fury. He pulled a radio from his pocket and roared into it. "Security! HVAC Equipment level! She's in the maintenance shaft! Intercept her now!"

Seraphina scrambled down the metal rungs, her arms screaming in pain. She reached the grated metal platform of the 69th-floor HVAC level and kicked open the access door. Before she could sprint toward the service elevator, the heavy door at the end of the corridor slammed open and two massive men in black tactical gear burst through.

A thick hand clamped around her wrist, crushing her bones. The guard yanked her off the ladder and dragged her roughly into the concrete corridor.

The two guards flanked Seraphina. They gripped her upper arms, their fingers digging deep into her muscles. They shoved her forward, marching her down the concrete corridor toward the service elevator.

She gasped for air. A sharp, pulling pain radiated from her lower abdomen. Panic seized her throat. The physical stress was tearing at her body.

The heavy metal doors of the service elevator slid open. Alistair stood inside. His face was a mask of pale, contained fury. His eyes tracked her every movement, burning with a violent intensity.

The guards shoved her inside. She stumbled. Alistair's hand shot out. His fingers clamped around her jaw, his thumb pressing brutally into her cheekbone. The pressure was agonizing.

"If you ever try to run from me again," he hissed, his breath hot against her freezing skin, "I will break both of your legs."

Seraphina stared up at him. She let her eyes roll back into her head. She allowed her knees to buckle, her entire body going entirely limp.

She collapsed onto the cold steel floor of the elevator. She curled into a tight ball, clutching her chest. She forced her breathing to become rapid, shallow, and erratic. She let out a choked, desperate wheeze.

Alistair stepped back. He stared down at her, his jaw tight.

"I can't breathe," she gasped, her voice raw. "Water. A bag. Please. I'm suffocating."

The elevator jolted to a stop at the ground-floor private garage. The doors opened.

Alistair looked at the guard on his left. "Go to the SUV. Get the emergency oxygen tank."

The guard nodded and sprinted across the massive, echoing garage toward a parked fleet of black vehicles. The driver remained standing by the elevator doors.

Alistair turned his head to watch the running guard.

Seraphina's eyes snapped open. She pushed off the floor with explosive force.

She grabbed the heavy metal trash can beside the elevator doors and shoved it with all her might. The can tipped over, crashing into Alistair's legs and sending a wave of garbage across the driver's boots.

The loud crash echoed like a gunshot. Seraphina didn't look back. She spun around and sprinted toward the red exit sign marking the fire stairs.

She slammed her shoulder into the heavy fire door. It burst open. She threw herself into the freezing night, plunging into the deep snow covering the Manhattan sidewalks. The blizzard was blinding, turning the towering skyscrapers into dark, looming shadows.

The snow was up to her knees. She dragged her legs forward, fighting the heavy resistance. She aimed for the dense, chaotic expanse of Riverside Park just two blocks away, hoping the trees and uneven terrain would hide her.

Behind her, alarms shattered the silence. The deep, guttural shouts of Alistair's security team echoed through the storm. His men were already spilling out of the parking garage.

She glanced over her shoulder. Beams from high-powered flashlights sliced through the falling snow, moving fast down the avenue.

She bit down on her lip until she tasted copper. She pushed her burning thighs harder, dodging abandoned cars. The freezing air sliced down her throat like shattered glass.

She broke through the tree line of the park. The ground suddenly vanished. She skidded to a halt at the edge of a steep, snow-covered rocky embankment near the frozen river. Below, a jagged concrete drainage path lay in total darkness.

The shouts grew deafening. Two guards burst through the bushes, less than thirty feet away.

She looked down into the black void of the embankment. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She didn't stop. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, and threw herself off the edge.

Gravity ripped her downward. She hit the steep incline. Her body tumbled violently through the deep snow and hidden, jagged rocks. Sharp branches tore through her windbreaker, slicing into her cheeks and arms.

She kept her arms locked around her womb, taking every impact on her back and shoulders.

Her head slammed against a buried rock. A sickening thud vibrated through her skull.

White-hot pain exploded behind her eyes. The world went instantly black. Her body rolled a few more feet before coming to a dead stop at the bottom of the embankment, lying twisted in the snow.

Minutes later, flashlight beams hit her motionless body. Guards slid down the slope on ropes.

A guard pressed two fingers against her neck. He grabbed his radio. "Target is unconscious. Severe head trauma. We need immediate medical evac."

At the top of the embankment, Alistair stood in the driving snow. He stared down at the stretcher being prepared. His fists were clenched so tight his leather gloves creaked.