My Coldhearted Husband’s Regret

The evening air felt oppressive as Cullen and Sabrina returned to the villa, both still glowing from their afternoon with Niall. The light in the foyer cast long shadows, revealing Chelsea's worried expression as she approached them.

"Mr. Dennis," Chelsea said, her voice unusually tight, "Mrs. Dennis has already gone back to her country."

Cullen paused, briefcase still in hand. "Gone back?" The surprise in his voice was momentary, quickly replaced by indifference. "When did she leave?"

"This afternoon, sir. She left this for you." Chelsea held out a sealed cream-colored envelope.

Cullen took it without interest, turning it over in his hands as Sabrina skipped past them toward the staircase.

"Dad, can I watch that movie Niall recommended before bed?" she called over her shoulder.

"Only for thirty minutes," he replied, his attention already shifting away from the envelope in his hand.

Just as he was about to open it, his phone rang. Niall's name flashed across the screen, and a genuine smile—something Veronica hadn't seen directed at her in years—instantly lit up his face.

"One moment," he said to Chelsea, setting the unopened envelope on the side table as he took the call.

"Did you get home safely?" His voice softened immediately, warmth seeping into every word. "I was just thinking about you…"

The envelope teetered at the edge of the table, then slipped off, falling silently behind an ornate vase. Cullen, absorbed in his conversation, didn't notice as he walked away, Veronica's final message already forgotten.

The next morning, Chelsea found the envelope on the floor. Assuming Mr. Dennis had read it and discarded it, she placed it in the drawer of the side table, unaware of the life-changing contents within. The original source is M|V|L5EMPYR.

Thousands of miles away, Veronica stood in the doorway of the luxurious Dennis Villa where she had lived for six years. The morning sunlight cast a golden glow over the marble floors and designer furniture—items Cullen had purchased without consulting her tastes or preferences.

She'd slept little since her return flight, but her mind was startlingly clear. With methodical precision, she moved through the rooms, collecting only what was undeniably hers: clothes she'd bought before the marriage, family heirlooms, a few cherished books. Everything else—the designer wardrobe Cullen had insisted she wear, the jewelry he'd given her for appearances' sake, the furnishings of their hollow life together—she left behind.

Her fingers hesitated over a silver-framed photo of Sabrina as a toddler, chubby hands reaching for the camera, eyes bright with unconditional love. A love that had slowly withered under Niall's shadow. Veronica placed it carefully in her bag.

In the study, she opened her laptop and accessed their joint account. Cullen had deposited three million dollars there when they married—"So you never have to ask me for money," he'd said, as if even that basic communication would be too much intimacy.

For seven years, she'd barely touched it, preferring to live on her own salary. Now, she transferred the entire sum to her personal account. Not out of greed or revenge, but because it was the cleanest break. She wouldn't be coming back for anything else.

She moved to the kitchen, where a magnetic whiteboard still displayed her meal plans for the week—foods Sabrina loved, dishes Cullen preferred. With one swipe of her hand, she erased it all.

The final step was the hardest. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Veronica pulled out her phone and opened the settings. There it was: "Call Sa - 7:00 PM" —the daily reminder she'd set to never miss speaking with her daughter, regardless of time zones or workload.

Her finger hovered over the delete button. Seven years of marriage, seven years of trying to earn love that should have been freely given. Seven years of watching Cullen's eyes slide past her as if she were invisible.

"Enough," she whispered to herself, and pressed delete.

By noon, Veronica had moved into her own apartment—a sleek, modern space she'd purchased years ago as an investment but never lived in. The rooms echoed with emptiness, devoid of the clutter of family life. No Sabrina's toys scattered across the floor, no Cullen's newspapers left open on tables.

"A blank canvas," she murmured, setting down her bags. This was what starting over looked like. Terrifying. Liberating.

The next morning, Veronica arrived at Dennis Alliance headquarters wearing a simple black dress—professional but unremarkable, unlike the carefully curated outfits she'd worn as the CEO's wife. She moved through the familiar corridors toward Cullen's office suite, nodding politely to colleagues who looked surprised to see her.

Outside the executive suite, Bradley Cameron—one of Cullen's trusted personal secretaries—rose from his desk with a puzzled expression.

"Mrs. Dennis! We weren't expecting you today. Mr. Dennis is still in Bella and won't be back until next week."

"I know." Veronica's voice was steady. "I'm not here to see him."

She handed Bradley an envelope. "This is my resignation, effective immediately. Please ensure Mr. Dennis receives this when he returns."

Bradley stared at the envelope, then back at her. "Resignation? But—why? Your work in the charity foundation has been exemplary. Everyone says so."

A sad smile crossed Veronica's face. She'd taken the position at Dennis Alliance's charitable foundation because it was close to Cullen. Another attempt to bridge the unbridgeable gap between them.

"It's time for me to pursue other opportunities," she said simply.

Bradley looked as if he wanted to say more but hesitated. Having worked closely with Cullen for years, he was well aware of the coldness between the CEO and his wife.

"I'll make sure Mr. Dennis receives this immediately upon his return," he finally said, his tone respectful.

Veronica nodded. "Thank you, Bradley. For everything."

As she turned to leave, Bradley called after her, "Mrs. Dennis?"

She paused but didn't turn around.

"Whatever you do next… I hope it brings you happiness."

Her shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly. "So do I, Bradley. So do I."

With that, she walked out of Dennis Alliance headquarters, not as Cullen Dennis's dutiful wife, but as Veronica Murray—a woman reclaiming her life one deliberate step at a time.