The Regretful CEO's Comeback

Chapter 1

Elodie Mercer waited outside the examination room in the hospital corridor.

Earlier, she'd pulled onto the main road outside the set when someone who'd been walking along perfectly normally suddenly darted in front of her car. Only her quick swerve had prevented an accident.

When she'd gotten out, she'd discovered that the person staging the accident was Seraphina Valez, the woman whose relationship with her husband, Damian Waverly, was anything but clear.

Elodie had swerved away without touching her, yet Seraphina had pretended to fall. Then she'd refused to let the matter drop, insisting that Elodie bring her to the hospital and register her for treatment. She'd even called Damian, Elodie's husband in name only.

Brisk footsteps approached. A pair of polished leather shoes stopped in front of Elodie.

Her lashes fluttered. Slowly, her gaze traveled up the man's legs to his face.

His features were sharply defined, his face almost impossibly handsome.

It was Damian, her husband.

His cold stare made her heart tremble.

But he hadn't come to the hospital to stand up for her. He was here to see Seraphina, the woman he adored, who was feigning injury and blaming Elodie for it.

The door opened, and Marissa Kline stepped out. Her expression eased a little when she saw him. "Mr. Waverly, you're here."

"How is she?" His voice was low and cold.

"She's scraped both hands, and she's badly shaken." Marissa shot Elodie a pointed look. "Thank goodness she was lucky. Such a wide road, and somehow that car came straight at her. If you ask me, someone did it on purpose."

Elodie didn't even shift from where she leaned against the wall.

"Such a wide road," she said, her voice steady and just as cold, "and somehow she ran right in front of my car. If we're comparing who did what on purpose, we can check the cameras."

Marissa had no answer.

At last, Damian looked at Elodie. He stood over her, looking down. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes before indifference covered it.

"What happened?"

The low, weighty question was directed at her.

Elodie looked at him, then suddenly smiled. She raised her phone and turned the screen toward him. "I saved the evidence for you before the traffic officers arrived. Dashcam footage, intersection cameras, all of it. My car's paintwork is completely intact. It never so much as brushed your precious darling."

His brow tightened almost imperceptibly.

"And," she added, putting her phone away and enunciating every word, "I put my hazards on and slammed on the brakes. She has no external injuries, no internal injuries, not even a scratch. Her only injury is what she calls 'being frightened.'"

She paused, her lips curving faintly. "Did you come all this way to condemn me as the 'driver responsible,' Mr. Waverly, or to check whether the woman of your dreams got a fright?"

The corridor fell silent. Marissa's face flushed scarlet.

Something shifted in Damian's gaze, as though Elodie's words had reached him, but he quickly controlled his expression.

Stung into silence, Marissa could only turn to him. "Mr. Waverly, please go in and see her. Seeing you might help her calm down."

He nodded, and Marissa hastily stepped aside.

As he strode into the room without another word, Elodie suddenly found it almost laughable.

Her own husband had accepted someone else's version of events and decided it was entirely her fault.

After treating Seraphina's injuries, the doctor had left. Seraphina lay on the bed, unable to stop trembling from the fright until Damian entered.

"Damian..."

Seraphina came out from the hospital bed, bracing herself against the doorframe. Gauze covered the backs of her hands. At the sight of him, her eyes immediately reddened. "Damian..."

She turned toward Elodie and forced a gentle, forgiving smile. "Ms. Mercer, it's really nothing. Please don't worry about it. You don't have to pay me anything..."

"I'll pay whatever I owe and follow whatever procedures are required," Elodie interrupted. "I've already reported it to the traffic police. They can determine who's responsible."

Seraphina's smile froze for half a second.

Elodie's voice was quiet, but every word was clear. "Ms. Valez, the marriage record still lists me as Damian Waverly's wife. Calling me 'Ms. Mercer' over and over to my face, are you trying to remind me what a failure I am as Mrs. Waverly?"

Seraphina's expression changed. "That's not what I meant..."

"Then what did you mean?" Elodie smiled without warmth. "Everyone in the industry knows whose backing means you never have to worry about money. Save your generosity for someone else."

Damian watched her.

For three years, he'd seen her meek and obedient. He'd seen her cautiously trying to please him. But he'd never seen her like this, her back straight and her gaze cold, as sharp as a blade finally drawn. Something pricked unexpectedly inside his chest. He couldn't tell whether it was anger or something else.

"Enough," he said, his voice deepening. "This is a hospital."

"Yes, it is." Elodie looked at him. "Then I'll be going, Mr. Waverly. My lawyer will discuss compensation with Ms. Valez."

She turned and walked away, her heels striking the tile in crisp, decisive steps.

At the corner, she stopped without looking back.

"Damian Waverly."

His breath caught.

"For three years, I've held on to this marriage and followed your rules." Her voice was soft, but it pierced the silence. "But today I realized something. Whoever wants to hold on to this marriage can have it. I don't want it anymore."

Then she left.

Damian remained where he was in the corridor. His frown deepened, and his fingers curled unconsciously into a fist. He'd come here to stand up for Seraphina.

So why had hearing Elodie say, "I don't want it anymore," felt as though someone had torn a piece out of his chest?