All Chapters of My Ex-Husband's Regret: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

In the quiet hospital room, the steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound accompanying the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead. And Diego lay propped against the pillows, his face pale and his smokey eyes sunken, matching his condition.His body was weary and strained from the reopening of his wound which would take a longer time to heal. Now, his movements were more restricted by the bandages tightly wrapped around his torso. His skin was pale and clammy, and his hair disheveled. But despite his physical exhaustion, his mind was racing with thoughts of Freya.He couldn't understand why she had betrayed him, why she had gone back to Desmond after everything they had been through together. He knew that Freya had no emotional connection with Desmond, he was certain of that. So why had she made the decision to return to him, to go back to her miserable life with him?In just one year, Diego had compensated Freya for all the depressing years she had spent in a marriage with

Freya stepped out of the car and onto the driveway, her heels clicking on the pavement. She was dressed in a crisp, tailored suit, her chestnut hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail — the attire she had put on for work. Despite her polished appearance, exhaustion etched lines on her face, and her eyes seemed to hold a deep-seated weariness.She had gone several places that day, meeting with realtors and potential business partners to set her plans of opening her own restaurant in motion. She also stopped by the food truck at Desmond's workplace to check up on her employee and oversee the activities there. And now, all her energy had been spent.The front door creaked open, and Freya stepped into the dimly lit foyer of the mansion. Right there, before she could take another step, she spotted Desmond.He stood near the staircase, his broad frame slightly hunched, the faintest shadow of hope flickering in his sapphire eyes. "Welcome home, Wife”, he said softly, his voice laced with an

Freya sat in her dimly-lit room, the muted hum of the city outside barely registering in her mind as her focus stayed locked on the task at hand. The glow from her laptop screen illuminated her sharp features, her expression steely. Her eyes were fixed intently on the laptop screen, her fingers hovered over the keyboard. The plan she had carefully devised over the past few weeks was now in motion, and she felt nothing but satisfaction as she moved to claim what she deserved.Aside from setting herself and Diego free from the legal battles, ensuring the safety and reputation of the ones she loved, another benefit of moving back with Desmond was his vast riches. Yes, his money.When she returned to him, Desmond persuaded her to go back to having a joint account with him, one which would totally be at her disposal. He assured her that she was free to spend however she liked.His assurance and permission to lavish his money however she liked gave her flashbacks. It reminded her of the t

The heavy creak of the front door echoed through the hall as Desmond stepped inside the house, shrugging off his suit jacket. It had been another long day, filled with meetings and sharp-tongued negotiations. He was looking forward to retreating to the warmth of his room, away from the suffocating formalities of his life.As he loosened his tie and began ascending the staircase, the soft patter of approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts. One of the maids appeared, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her posture respectful.“Good evening, sir,” she greeted, her voice polite but warm.Desmond nodded curtly, already thinking about the bottle of whiskey waiting for him upstairs. “Evening. Where’s Freya?” he asked casually, though there was an edge to his tone.The maid hesitated briefly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “Madam is…in the kitchen.”Desmond froze mid-step, slowly turning back to face the maid. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his face was etched

Desmond sat in his study, a crystal glass of whiskey cradled in his hand. The golden liquid caught the glow of the late Sunday morning sun which filtered into the room through the blinds, casting faint patterns on the polished wood of his desk.His jaw tightened as he stared at the swirling drink, his mind replaying the events of the past weeks. Freya’s haughty indifference, her commanding tone, the way she moved through the house as if she owned it—it was infuriating.With an aggressive motion, he gulped down the entire glass of whiskey, his angry gaze fixed on some point ahead.His hand trembled slightly as he poured himself another drink, the bottle clinking softly against the rim of his glass. The taste of whiskey burned his throat, but it wasn’t enough to drown the bitter resentment bubbling inside him.Instead of the meek woman he had once controlled, Freya returned with a defiance that made his blood boil. She was colder now, sharper. She carried herself with an air of power, a