Too Late For Regret: My Ex-Husband's Downfall

The words on the page blurred.

Colette Bentley blinked, trying to force them back into focus. Acute Myeloid Leukemia. The letters were stark, black, and clinical. An executioner's decree printed on high-quality cardstock.

Her fingers were white where she gripped the edges of the leather armchair in Dr. Evans's office. The air was chilled, smelling faintly of antiseptic and something else. Finality.

"It's an aggressive subtype," Dr. Evans said, his voice a soft, sympathetic drone that seemed to come from a great distance. "The pathology is quite clear. We need to start treatment immediately."

Colette nodded, a short, jerky movement. Her throat felt like it was packed with cotton.

"You should notify your family," he continued, his gaze kind but firm. "Especially your husband. Having Dr. Lucas involved will be... advantageous. His expertise is unparalleled."

The irony was a physical thing, lodging itself in her chest. Her husband, Dr. Edwardo Lucas, was the country's foremost hematologist. A man who saved people from diseases like this every day. He would know exactly what to do. He would fix this.

A tremor of hope, fragile and thin, ran through her.

"Thank you, Doctor," she managed to say. The words felt foreign in her own mouth.

She walked out of the office on legs that felt like stilts. The hospital corridor seemed to tilt and sway, the polished floors reflecting the fluorescent lights in long, distorted streaks. She braced herself against the cool wall, the solidness of it a small anchor in a world that had just dissolved.

Her hand trembled as she pulled her phone from her purse. She found his name-Edwardo-and pressed the call button. It rang once, twice.

"Honey, I'm in a meeting. What's up?" His voice was a warm, familiar balm. The sound of safety. The sound of home.

Colette took a deep, shuddering breath, preparing to unload the terrifying words. To let him take the burden.

But before she could speak, another voice cut through the line. A woman's voice, playful and husky.

"Edwardo, hurry up. The water's getting cold..."

Colette froze. Every muscle in her body went rigid. She knew that voice better than her own.

It was her sister. Cleo.

There was a fumbling sound on his end, a soft clatter, as if he'd dropped the phone. He must have hit the speaker button by mistake.

"Don't mess around, I'm on the phone," Edwardo's voice was lower now, a mix of annoyance and something else... indulgence.

"Is that Colette?" Cleo's voice was closer now, laced with a familiar, dismissive tone. "Just ignore her. She's always so boring. You promised me this afternoon was just for us."

Colette's blood turned to ice in her veins. She clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird.

She could hear him chuckle, a low, intimate sound that was meant only for the woman in the room with him. "You're a little demon. You're going to