All Chapters of Ashes Of His Regret : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The article goes live at six forty-seven PM.By seven, it has twelve thousand shares. By eight, it's the second most-read piece on the outlet's homepage. By nine, three television segments have cited it, and my name is being said by people who don't know the first thing about me in tones that range from scandalized to gleeful to falsely sympathetic.I read it once. That's all I allow myself.The piece is surgical. Julian's team fed the reporter just enough truth to make the lies plausible details about the acquisition, about my meetings with the prosecution, about Damien's financial involvement and his presence at my office. Everything technically accurate, assembled into a shape that tells a different story than the one that actually happened.The headline is the worst of it: "Billionaire's Ex-Wife and His Rival: Inside the Revenge Plot That Could Derail the Most Anticipated Trial of the Year."But the subheading is what I keep returning to: Sources close to the defense say Voss, wor

Esmeralda's POVThe article is still open on my phone when I wake up.I fell asleep reading it not because it put me to sleep, but because at some point my body simply refused to keep going and made the decision for me. Now it's five forty-seven in the morning, the room is grey with early light, and the headline is the first thing I see.'Billionaire's Ex-Wife and His Rival: Inside the Revenge Plot That Could Derail the Most Anticipated Sentencing of the Year.'Damien is already awake beside me. He doesn't sleep much when something is in motion, I've learned this about him. He lies still and looks like he's resting but his mind never stops. Right now he's watching me read, waiting."How bad is it?" he asks."It's precise," I say. "That's what makes it bad. They didn't fabricate anything. They just assembled the truth into a shape that looks like something else."He reaches over and takes the phone from my hand. Reads. His jaw tightens once just once and then he sets it face down on

Esmeralda's POVThe photo surfaces on a Wednesday, I'm at my desk at Morrison when Theo sets a printed page in front of me without a word just places it there with the expression of someone delivering news they did not ask to be the bearer of. I look down.It's a photograph. A charity gala, from the look of it chandeliers, black tie, the particular brightness of rooms where money gathers to perform generosity. Damien and I are in the frame. He's standing slightly behind me, his hand at the small of my back, leaning in to say something I'm laughing at.We look easy together. Unguarded. Like two people who have known each other long enough to stop being careful.The timestamp in the article's caption reads three years ago.Before my divorce from Julian was finalized.I sit very still."Where is this running?" I ask."Everywhere," Theo says. "It started on the financial blogs this morning. It's on the main outlets now."I pick up the printout. Look at the photograph more closely. My dr

Esmeralda's POVThe Morrison deal closes on a Thursday.Not the acquisition that happened weeks ago. This is the first major contract under my leadership. A distribution partnership that Hargrove brought to me half-finished, legacy of the previous management, sitting in a drawer like something nobody had wanted to be responsible for deciding. I looked at it. Restructured the terms. Sent it back out.Today it comes back signed.Theo places it on my desk at eleven fifteen AM and I look at it for a long moment.My name on a contract. Morrison Manufacturing at the top.My father's name in the company letterhead.I think about calling Damien. Then I don't. I want to sit with this for a moment before it becomes anything else before it becomes good news to be shared, before it becomes a data point in the larger story. For just sixty seconds I want it to be mine.Sixty seconds.Then Theo's face appears in the doorway again."Hargrove is asking if you want to announce internally.""Tomorrow,

Esmeralda's POVVivienne calls on a Monday morning while I was between meetings, standing at my office window with coffee I haven't touched, when the phone rings and her name appears and something in my chest tightens before I even answer. Vivienne doesn't call on Monday mornings. Vivienne calls on weekend afternoons when the quiet gets too loud, or late evenings when she's been thinking about something for too long. Monday morning means something happened."Vivienne.""She came to my apartment." Her voice is controlled in the way of someone who has been rehearsing controlled for the last hour. "Last night. She just....she was there. At my door.""Who?""Celeste."I set down the coffee."Tell me exactly what happened.""She said she wanted to talk. I let her in because I didn't know what else to do, she's still she was my mother-in-law for four years, Esmeralda, I couldn't just—" She stops. Resets. "She came in. Sat down. And she said that she hoped I had thought very carefully abo