Too Late For Regret: The Neglected Wife

On a stormy night, Inez's tire blew out. She called her husband Dominic. It rang five times, then was declined.

A second later, a text popped up: "In a meeting, call you later." - the same automated reply for seven years.

In seven years, he had given her only three things: an automated reply set up by his assistant, a black card always passed on by his assistant, and a son who only liked "Auntie Alona."

She stared at the screen and laughed. She'd said more to that automated reply than she ever had to her husband.

The tire iron slipped again. A raw, scraping sound rang out in the downpour and was instantly swallowed by the rain. Inez stared at the lug nut on her Jaguar F-Type. It hadn't moved. Not even a millimeter.

Her hands were slick with rain and grease, her knuckles scraped raw against the metal.

She threw her whole weight into it anyway, desperate and useless. The wrench didn't budge. The bolts had been tightened by a machine, an unfeeling force she couldn't possibly match.

Defeated, she tossed the heavy iron onto the passenger seat. It landed with a dull thud on the leather.

She collapsed back into the driver's seat, soaked and shivering. The warm air from the vents hit her cold, wet skin like a thousand tiny needles. Outside, the wipers thrashed frantically, and passing headlights smeared across the windshield.

She didn't call a second time. Seven years of marriage had taught her it was pointless.

She let her head rest against the steering wheel, the leather cool against her forehead. Just as despair began to wash over her, two blinding headlights flooded her rearview mirror.

A white Maserati Ghibli pulled up smoothly behind her.

A woman stepped out holding a large black umbrella. A delicate dress, high heels, yet she navigated the puddles with an infuriating grace.

A sharp rap on the window.

Inez lowered it. A stunningly beautiful, aggressive face appeared. Alona Zimmerman. The name on everyone's lips in Port Sterling's high society.

"Oh," Alona said, her voice laced with mock surprise and a hint of contempt, "it's you, Mrs. Reeves."

Before Inez could respond, Alona's phone rang. That custom ringtone - Inez knew it all too well; she had heard it once on Dominic's phone. The one reserved for Dominic's private line.

Alona answered, her voice instantly shifting, becoming sweet and fragile: "Dom, darling, I found her... Yes, she seems fine, just blocking the road... Me? I'm okay, just a little wet. The rain is terrible."

A knot tightened in her stomach. His meeting. Of course.

Alona hung up; the sweetness vanished completely. Her eyes went cold, appraising. "Inez, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but Dom is worried about me. You'd better not cause him any trouble."

Inez's anger flared. "Playing a game? My tire blew out. I'm stuck here."

Alona shook her head, her expression turning pitiful. "You always have an excuse. Your mother was the same way, always finding ways to get sympathy."

The mention of her mother made Inez's blood run cold. "You shut your mouth."

She pushed the door open, intending to get out, to confront her.

But as her hand touched the door, Alona flinched back dramatically. Then, with shocking speed, she swung her hand.

The slap cracked through the rain.

Inez's head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned with a fiery sting. She was too stunned to even react.

Alona was already clutching her own hand, her eyes instantly filling with tears. Her voice trembled. "You... you tried to hit me?"

A black Bentley screeched to a halt beside them.

Dominic burst out. He didn't even glance at Inez.

He ran straight to Alona, pulling off his suit jacket and wrapping it around her trembling shoulders.

"Alona, are you okay? What did she do to you?" His voice was tight with concern as he scanned her for injury.

Alona buried her face in his chest, her sobs muffled by his shirt. "I just wanted to help her, and she... she tried to hit me..."

Inez sat in her car, one hand pressed to her burning cheek, watching them. She felt like the punchline to a cruel joke.

Then she saw the small figure in the back seat of the Bentley. Leo. Her son.

He was looking at her too. His small face scrunched up - not in concern. In annoyance.

"Mom, stop making a scene! Auntie Alona is not feeling well!"

That sentence hurt more than the slap.

Dominic murmured a few reassuring words to Alona, then finally turned around. His tall frame blocked the headlights, casting him in shadow. Rain slicked down his dark hair and traced the sharp line of his jaw.

His eyes, cold as a winter sea, landed on Inez.

Her heart clenched.

She watched his lips part. He didn't ask if she was okay. He didn't ask about the car. He didn't ask why she was there.

He just stared at her, his deep blue eyes filled with a familiar disappointment and blame.

The rain, the wind, Alona's soft crying, her son's dismissive words - it all twisted into a net around her.

Her fingers curled into a fist, her nails digging into her palm. The small, sharp pain kept her present.

She waited for his judgment, just as she had for seven years.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was as cold as the storm.

"Inez, what did you do to her?"

Inez didn't answer. She just looked at him, then slowly raised a hand to point at her own cheek - red and swollen, the shape of fingers already rising.

Dominic's gaze followed her finger. His brow furrowed - just for a second. Something flickered in his eyes. Then Alona whimpered.

His attention snapped back like a rubber band.

"Dom, let's just go," Alona murmured, her face pale and tear-streaked. "Maybe she didn't mean it... My head hurts." She pressed a hand to her temple, her body swaying slightly.

Dominic's expression tightened. "We're going to the hospital. Now."

He turned back to Inez, pulled out his wallet, and tossed a black card through the open window.

For seven years, that card had always been passed on by his assistant. Tonight was the first time he'd handed it to her himself - like tossing alms to a beggar.

"Call a tow truck and a cab. Send the bill to my assistant." His tone was flat, like he was closing a business deal.

Inez watched the card bounce. A hollow laugh escaped her.

She didn't touch the card. "What about my car?"

"Ethan will handle it." His patience was gone. "Don't call me again."

He turned his back, wrapped an arm around Alona, and helped her into the Bentley.

Inez saw Leo in the back seat - six years old, in a tiny suit. This time he didn't speak. He just turned his face away, as if she was the one who had ruined everything tonight.

Auntie Alona. Those words still rang in her ears. The perfect "Auntie Alona" her son talked about every day. The one who bought him the newest Lego sets, the one who always had time to play.

Dominic shut the car door, cutting off her view. The Bentley pulled away, its tires splashing muddy water across her windshield.

Inez sat alone. The rain kept falling, but she no longer felt the cold. There was only a deep, numbing chill.

She didn't know how long she sat there before her phone rang. Jessica Sullivan, her assistant.

"Inez? Where are you? You missed your evening appointments."

The words barely registered. Right - she was a psychologist. She owned a small, well-regarded clinic in downtown Port Sterling.

"My car broke down," she said, her voice strange and far away. "Handle it for me, Jessica."

She hung up. Staring into the rain-streaked darkness, she realized with sudden, terrifying clarity: in the life she had built, in the family she had married into, there was no place for her.

She didn't use Dominic's money. Her fingers trembling, she ordered a tow truck and an Uber through an app.

While she waited, she scrolled through her photo gallery. It was full of Leo. But in the most recent photos, a smiling, beautiful woman stood beside him. Alona.

She remembered Leo's complaints over the past few months - she was always busy with work, she wasn't as fun as Auntie Alona. Inez had blamed herself, believing she had neglected her son. Now she understood. Someone had been methodically, deliberately, taking her place.

The tow truck arrived. A kind-faced middle-aged man handed her a dry towel without a word.

"Thank you," she whispered. The simple kindness from a stranger almost made her cry.

The Uber drove her through the rainy city - not to the cold, museum-like mansion on the hill she shared with Dominic, but to a small apartment in the heart of downtown. A place she had bought with her own money. Her last refuge.

Inside, she stripped off her wet clothes and stood under the shower, letting the hot water wash away the chill and the humiliation. In the steamed-up mirror, her cheek was still red and swollen. But her eyes were unnervingly calm.

Seven years of self-deceit - wiped away by a single slap.

She dried herself, put on clean pajamas, and sat down at her desk. She opened her laptop, ignored the flood of work emails, and opened a blank document. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long moment. Then she typed two words: DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

She stared at the title. She knew the Reeves family didn't do divorce. Matilda Reeves - the iron-fisted matriarch who ruled the family - would never allow such a scandal. But tonight, Inez didn't care. She just wanted to be free.

A formal document required a lawyer. What she needed right now was a word from Dominic. A confirmation.

She picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over his contact. Her heart hammered - a frantic, trapped bird. She took a shallow breath and typed a single line.

"Dominic, let's get a divorce."

No accusations. No questions. Just a calm statement of fact. She hit send.

Then she flipped the phone face down on the desk, as if it were a venomous snake. She walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and forced herself to drink it slowly.

Don't look. Don't think.

One minute. Five. Ten.

The phone stayed dark and silent, as if it were dead.

A bitter smile touched her lips. He'd probably seen it and couldn't be bothered to reply.

Just as she was about to give up and go to bed, the screen lit up.

Her heart leaped into her throat. She walked back to the desk and picked it up.

A new message from Dominic Reeves.

A single word.

"Fine."

No question mark. No explanation. Not even a period - just a cold, dismissive agreement to end their seven-year marriage, like approving an insignificant line item on a budget report.

Inez stared at the word. Fine.

And then a strange feeling washed over her.

Relief.

This clean, sharp cut was better than any messy, drawn-out fight. It was over.

The next day was clear. Inez went to her clinic as usual, moving through the day as if the night before had been nothing but a bad dream.

Her assistant Jessica watched her with worried eyes, her gaze lingering on the faint bruise on Inez's cheek.

"I'm fine," Inez said before Jessica could ask. "Walked into a door."

She buried herself in her work, using her patients' problems to numb her own.

Late in the afternoon, a call came from the Reeves estate. Mrs. Miller, the housekeeper, reminding her of the family dinner tonight.

Inez wanted to refuse.

"Mrs. Reeves has specifically requested your presence." Mrs. Miller's tone left no room for argument. Matilda.

Inez hung up, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. It was a dinner she couldn't escape.

When she left the clinic that evening, a light drizzle had started. She stood by the curb, but every cab that passed was already taken.

Her phone rang. An unknown number. She answered.

"Inez, do you need me to send a driver?"

The voice was sickly sweet. Alona Zimmerman.

Inez's jaw tightened. "How did you get my number?"

Alona laughed, a light, airy sound that grated on her nerves. "Oh, I don't have it. I'm calling from Dom's phone. He's in the shower and asked me to check for any important messages."

The lie was blatant, possessive.

"I saw your text," Alona continued, her voice dripping with the satisfaction of a victor, "and his reply. 'Fine.' So like him, isn't it? I'm glad you're finally coming to your senses, Inez."

Rage shot through her, hot and sharp. She said nothing and just ended the call.

A silver Porsche 911 pulled up to the curb. The window slid down, revealing a handsome, smirking face.

"Hey, sister-in-law. All alone in the rain? Waiting for my brother to pick you up?"

Dominic's younger brother, Caleb Reeves. A notorious playboy, a close friend of Alona's, and someone who had never bothered to hide his contempt for Inez.

Inez ignored him and turned to walk away.

"Get in," Caleb said, pushing open the passenger door. "I'm heading to the dinner too. My brother... he's probably a little busy right now." The insinuation was clear.

Inez looked at the increasing rain, then at the unresponsive ride-share app on her phone.

With a resigned sigh, she got in.

She would rather accept a ride from the devil she knew than give Dominic another reason to contact her.