Too Late For Regret, Mr. CEO

The harsh morning light bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, forcing Arden to blink against the sudden brightness.

The alcohol from last night's charity gala had been a damn mistake, blurring the bitter reality of their crumbling four-year marriage. Federico had initiated the intimacy, perhaps as a twisted final test, and she had foolishly succumbed.

She woke up in the center of the massive, tangled king-sized bed.

Her first instinct was to reach out. Her fingers brushed against the icy cotton of the empty space beside her.

The coldness of the sheets sent a sudden jolt through her system. She sat up quickly, her vision still slightly blurred from the dimness of the room, her chest rising and falling as she scanned the empty space.

The heavy oak door of the master bathroom pushed open.

Federico stepped out. He was already dressed in a custom dark navy suit, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His hands were busy pulling a silk tie into a perfect knot at his throat.

He did not look at her with the warmth of a man who had spent the entire night tangled in her limbs. His eyes swept over her, flat and completely devoid of emotion.

Arden quickly pulled the thick duvet up to her collarbone, hiding the dark bruises blooming across her skin.

She tried to force the corners of her mouth up, wanting to break the suffocating silence with a soft morning greeting.

But the absolute zero temperature in his dark eyes froze the words in her throat.

Federico walked over to his nightstand. He picked up a thick, heavy document bound in a dark blue folder.

He tossed it onto the bed. It landed on the duvet right in front of Arden with a dull, heavy thud.

The bold black letters on the cover page spelled out Divorce Settlement Agreement.

All the air vanished from Arden's lungs. Her breathing simply stopped.

She stared at the words, her brain refusing to process the letters. She slowly lifted her head to look at him.

"Are you joking?" she asked, her voice trembling so violently it barely sounded like her own. Panic flooded the whites of her eyes.

Federico let out a harsh, dry laugh.

His gaze dropped, locking onto the antique beaded necklace resting against her collarbone-the one she never took off.

He leaned over the bed, his large frame casting a dark shadow over her.

His fingers hooked roughly under the antique beads. He pulled upward.

The sudden force yanked Arden forward, the tight string leaving an angry red welt across the sensitive skin of her neck. She choked on a gasp.

"You kept your eyes closed the entire time last night," he sneered, his jaw tight. "Were you pretending I was Jude?"

The sheer absurdity of the accusation hit Arden like a physical blow to the head.

She reached up frantically, her hands wrapping around his thick wrist.

"Federico, no. This is my mother's necklace. I swear to you-"

He ripped his