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