Regret After Divorce: My Billionaire Ex Begs Me Back

“You have stage five gastric cancer, Mrs. Hale. You have five months left to live.”

The doctor’s words replayed endlessly in Thalina Hale’s mind as she sat frozen in the driver’s seat of her car, the medical report trembling in her hands.

For weeks, she had been nauseous and weak. She had smiled through it, convincing herself it was pregnancy. She had rushed to the hospital with fragile hope blooming in her chest.

But instead of news of new life…

She had been handed a death sentence.

Her vision blurred as tears finally slipped down her cheeks. The sob she had been holding back broke free, her shoulders shaking in the silence of the car.

Why her?

What had she done to deserve this?

With trembling fingers, she reached for her phone. There was only one person she wanted to hear right now. The one person who should have been beside her.

Evander Hale.

Her husband.

She pressed his name and lifted the phone to her ear, forcing herself to breathe steadily. She had to tell him. He deserved to know.

The line rang once.

Twice.

On the third ring, it went straight to voicemail.

“The caller you’re trying to reach—”

She ended the call before the message finished, letting out a hollow, almost bitter laugh.

Of course.

It went to voicemail.

That was typical of Evander.

Because unlike the love she had carried for him for years, Evander Hale—the tech billionaire that she had been married to for five years—had never loved her.

If anything, he loathed her.

In fact, if there was anyone who would be relieved by the news of her impending death, it would be him.

After all, in five months, Evander Hale would finally be free of the shackles she called their marriage.

And yet even when she knew this, she still tried.

Her fingers moved again, dialing his number for the second time.

She wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t naïve.

She just wanted—no, needed—to believe that this news might soften him. That it might finally make him look at her. Choose her. Love her.

Even if it was only for five months.

The call rang. And just like before, it went unanswered.

This time, she ended it before the automated voice could finish and stared blankly at the white clinical bag resting on the passenger seat.

It was filled with medications the nurse had handed her with sympathetic eyes right before she stepped out. 

What had she done to deserve this?

She hadn’t even lived the life she wanted.

Friends? She had almost none.

True love—the kind she used to dream about as a girl?

That had clearly been meant for someone else.

She was only twenty nine. Was this truly how her story was supposed to end?

Sadness coiled tightly in her chest.

God… why me?

Her silent plea was interrupted by the sharp chime of her phone.

She peeled her eyes open and her heart lurched as she saw Evander’s name flash across the screen with a message.

Quickly, she grabbed the phone and opened the message.

It was short, clean and indifferent like always. 

[I’m busy. Whatever it is, we’ll discuss it tonight.]

That was all. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Thalina stared at the message and her lips curved into a faint, brittle smile.

His wife was dying, and yet, some meeting was more important.

As expected.

Still… she replied.

[Sure. I’ll prepare dinner. Lasagna—your favorite?]

She pressed send and watched the screen.

The message went from delivered to read. Yet, even after three minutes, she got no reply.

That was typical of him. 

But today, with a growing tumor slowly eating away at her stomach, the silence cut deeper than usual.

She swallowed her tears, slipped her phone into her bag, and moved the paper bag of medications into the glove compartment before starting the engine.

Thirty minutes later, her car rolled through the iron gates of the Hale Estate.

The mansion stood tall and imposing beneath the gray Seattle sky—modern architecture carved from glass and steel, its floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting nothing but cold light. Marble steps led to towering double doors, and the manicured lawns stretched flawlessly on either side, trimmed to perfection.

Thalina stepped inside and her gaze travelled around the place she’d grown to call home. 

The chandelier overhead cast a golden glow over the vast living room—cream sofas arranged with precision, abstract art lining the walls, a grand piano untouched in the corner.

The air smelled faintly of expensive wood polish and silence, lacking heavily of the warmth and life she wanted.

It reminded her of the first time she had walked into this house. She had whispered a single word.

Perfect.

It had felt like that.

The perfect place for a married couple. The perfect place to raise children. The perfect place to build the warm, loving family she had always dreamed of.

Now, five years later, that dream was dying.

Just like her.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the bag in her hand, but she forced herself not to dwell on it.

She had promised Evander lasagna.

And it wasn’t going to cook itself.

Without wasting any more time, she went upstairs and changed into something more comfortable, before returning to the kitchen.

Two hours later, the dining table was filled with Evander’s favorite dishes.

Lasagna at the center. Grilled salmon. Creamed spinach. Freshly baked bread.

Everything was painfully perfect.

Thalina exhaled softly, a fragile sense of accomplishment settling over her.

Midway through cooking, a wave of nausea had nearly sent her collapsing to the floor. Her hands had trembled. Her vision had blurred.

But she had endured.

A faint smile touched her lips. But it vanished the moment the front door opened.

She turned around and her body instinctively tensed up.

Evander Hale stepped inside, bringing the cold Seattle air in with him. His dark hair was slightly ruffled by the wind, his tailored coat resting perfectly on his broad shoulders. 

As he lifted a hand to loosen his tie, his gray eyes found her—sharp and unreadable as usual—and Thalina felt the familiar instinct to shrink.

But she clenched her fists discreetly and forced a smile.

“Welcome home, Evan.”

Her voice was steady—so different from the broken whisper that had filled her car hours ago.

She watched as his gaze drifted past her… to the dining table.

His eyes narrowed slightly. Not in appreciation, but rather, in scrutiny—as though searching for something wrong.

Her heart tightened. Still, she kept smiling.

“How was work?” she asked gently.

His gaze returned to her and he exhaled—a low, restrained sound.

As though her question was bothering him.

No… it definitely was.

Thalina had learned that during the second week of their marriage.

Her concern irritated him. Her presence unsettled him and most of all, her affection disgusted him. 

Since then, she had learned to speak and exist less when it came to him. 

Today however, was different.

There was a ticking time bomb inside her stomach with the test results hidden beneath her plate.

She needed this conversation to go smoothly before she dropped the bomb.

“An important meeting was disrupted because of your calls, Thalina.”

Evander’s honey-smooth voice carried nothing but quiet venom as he spoke. 

Her smile faltered briefly. 

‘Keep it together, Lina,’ she reminded herself, forcing the smile back in place. 

“I’m sorry.”

The apology slipped out automatically—a reflex she had perfected over the years. Apologizing even when she wasn’t at fault. Apologizing simply for existing.

Evander held her gaze for a brief second before walking toward the dining table.

She followed without thinking twice and sat opposite him as his commanding figure sank into the chair, hands steady despite the storm inside her. 

Reaching forward, she grabbed a plate and carefully served him a portion and placed it in front of him.

But instead of picking up his fork, Evander glanced at the food once… and pushed the plate away.

“I already had dinner.”

The words struck harder than any slap.

He had eaten.

After reading her message.

After knowing she was preparing his favorite dish.

Her smile trembled.

Something inside her chest twisted painfully, like fragile glass cracking under pressure.

“I see,” she murmured softly, her gaze drifting over the perfectly arranged dishes.

Two hours.

Two hours of standing through nausea and sharp cramps. Two hours of pretending she wasn’t dying.

For nothing.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she tightened her grip on the fabric of her dress beneath the table.

Evander hated women who cried.

She couldn’t cry.

Not now.

Not in front of him.

“What did you want to discuss?” Evander asked, his voice dragging her out of her spiraling thoughts.

Her gaze lifted to meet his again, locking onto those gray eyes that had never once softened for her the way she had always hoped they would.

“I wasn’t feeling well today,” she began quietly. “So I went to the hospital.”

Her fingers slid toward the test results hidden beneath the table.

“Not feeling well?” His eyes swept over her slowly, critically—like he was assessing damage rather than concern.

Then his brows drew together slightly.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question stunned Thalina speechless.

Pregnant?

She parted her lips to shut down the allegation, but before she could, Evander continued.

“If you are… get rid of it.”

The words slammed into her chest like a brutal blow and for a moment, she stared blankly at him, breath caught in her throat. 

“W-what?” she managed to get out after a minute, tone laced with disbelief.

Perhaps she'd heard wrong?

Unfortunately, that hope bubble was busted the moment Evander held her gaze and without an ounce of remorse or hesitation, he spoke again. 

“If you’re pregnant, Thalina Vale, get rid of it.”