A Wife's Regret
1352 Words
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, but the warmth did nothing for Natalie Montgomery.
She sat curled in the oversized armchair of her father’s study, still dressed in silk from the charity luncheon she hadn’t attended. A half-empty glass of wine dangled from her fingers, untouched for the last hour. Her gaze remained fixed on the photo above the mantel — her wedding day.
It had been a grand affair. The kind society circles still whispered about. Gold-trimmed invitations. Imported roses. A string quartet flown in from Vienna.
And there he was — Liam Hawthorne — standing beside her in that photo.
He’d smiled that day like a man who believed in miracles.
A man who believed in her.
She had laughed inwardly at him. At his hope. His idealism. His secondhand tuxedo and pocket watch polished like it meant something.
He had been poor, sweet, utterly sincere — and so painfully earnest.
And she had thought that meant he was weak.
Now?
Now she watched the same man move through the world with the quiet confidence of someone who could walk into any room and command silence. The same man who had just collapsed a Montgomery alliance that had lasted three decades — and done it with barely a press release.
He was unrecognizable.
And for the first time in her privileged life, Natalie felt something she didn’t know how to carry.
Regret.
Her mother’s voice still echoed in her head from that morning, sharp as broken glass:
“You were supposed to tame him, Natalie. Not lose him.”
She hadn’t responded. What could she say? That she never thought she’d want to keep him? That she’d underestimated the boy who wore cheap shoes and brought her coffee with trembling hands?
Or that they were also to blame for his attitude towards them now? That they had driven him beyond his saturation point, backing him to the wall and now that he had the opportunity, he decided not just to bite them but to push them down the road he had once tread?
She sighed.
She hadn’t spoken. She had simply left the room. Now here she was — staring at a frozen memory of the man who’d once worshipped her and wondering when the power had shifted.
Her mother was right. No matter what her family did to Liam, he had been her husband. She could have had a say on how he was treated and perhaps she would not have been in this pitiable pathetic state right now.
At least she would have been in a position to save her family from bankruptcy and total destruction by their ex son - in - law.
Her phone buzzed once. A news alert.
Hawthorne Holdings signs exclusive pharma deal with Evermark. Montgomery shares tumble.
Natalie closed her eyes.
It wasn’t just that Liam was winning.
It was that he was doing it without her.
Later that night, alone in her penthouse suite, she sat at the edge of her bed and opened their old chat thread. It had been silent for months. Not a call. Not a message. Not even one of his late-night voice notes that used to drive her mad — and secretly thrill her.
She stared at the screen for a long time.
Typed:
I didn’t know you were capable of all this.
Then deleted it.
Typed again:
I was wrong about you.
Deleted.
She typed yet again,
"I married you, dies that count for nothing?"
But she knew the answer to that. Although she had been married to him, she hadn't made the house a home for him. Heust have felt that it was better if he had remained single.
She choked back a sob. If only she could turn back the hands of time, she would do it all differently.
She sighed, since this new and refined Liam cane back, she had been wishing that exact same thing. But the hands of time could not be turned back, unfortunately.
She deleted that too.
Nothing she typed, seemed to be expressing her thoughts exactly.
She sighed, fingers hovering over the digital void they used to call a marriage.
Then, slowly, she typed the truth:
Do you ever think about what we could’ve been — if I had believed in you?
She read it over three times.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t clever. It was just… real.
She hesitated.
And then she hit send.
The message vanished into the void.
She stared at the screen, waiting. One minute. Two. Ten.
No reply came.
Outside, the city lights blinked back at her — cruel, indifferent, dazzling.
She thought of that boy again. Liam. The one who used to pick her up in borrowed suits and smile like she was the whole world. The one who used to say things like “I don’t need their money — I have you.”
She had laughed at that, too.
Now she sat in designer silk, sipping vintage wine, while the man she’d cast aside rose into power — not because of her, but in spite of her.
Natalie stood and walked to the balcony. The wind was cold. Her fingers trembled.
And for the first time since their wedding day… she wondered if Liam Hawthorne had already erased her from his story.
She had always believed she’d be the one who left him behind.
But now?
Now she wasn’t sure he’d even look back.
She stared at the screen of her phone again, still no response from him.
It was very unlike him. It could only mean one thing and that was, that he no longer cared if she lived or died.
She choked back a sob.
She would have loved to hear from him. Would have loved it if he had responded, no matter what words he used. But his silence, his silence broke her.
*******
In another part of the city at the same time.
The office was quiet.
City lights glowed against the wall of glass behind Liam’s desk, but he didn’t see them. His mind was on the Evermark acquisition. On the team waiting in Zurich. On the next step — not just to destabilize Montgomery Group, but to absorb it whole.
Power didn’t sleep. Neither did he.
Gabriel had already left for the night. The building was nearly empty.
Liam sat alone, sleeves rolled, eyes fixed on the contract in front of him.
His phone buzzed.
He ignored it.
Then it buzzed again — softly, insistently. A direct message. Not from a contact. From a thread buried at the bottom of his inbox.
Natalie.
His thumb hovered over the screen before he tapped it open.
Do you ever think about what we could’ve been — if I had believed in you?
No emojis. No punctuation games. Just a message that hit harder than any press scandal ever could.
Liam stared at the words, his pulse steady.
He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe for a second.
He could almost see her — sitting in some designer cage of a penthouse, fingers trembling as she sent it. Alone, probably. Just like he had been for years.
He read the message again.
If I had believed in you...
She had laughed at him once. Told her friends he was cute, harmless. A charity case in a tuxedo. Her father had told her it would be temporary. A rebellious phase before she married someone real. Someone of their choosing.
They were right.
And yet, here she was — staring back through a screen, remembering the boy who had once dreamed with her.
Or maybe for her.
Liam set the phone down. He didn’t respond.
Not because he didn’t care.
But because caring was a luxury he no longer afforded her.
He looked back at the city below, jaw tight, his voice low.
“You had your chance.
He didn’t block her.
He didn’t delete the message.
He simply let it sit there — unanswered.
And somewhere between silence and memory, Liam Hawthorne chose not to look back.
Because regret was a poor man’s burden.
And he wasn’t poor anymore.
- Writer
