Between Ruin And Resolve: My Ex-Husband’s Regret

Chapter 997:

She wouldn’t risk blood on her manicured fingertips when manipulation proved far more elegant. Deploying another’s hands for her schemes was brilliance itself. Her sole error lay in selecting such an incompetent instrument for her plans.

“For your sake, it better be,” Noah’s voice cut through the air like a frozen blade, stripped of even a whisper of human sentiment.

He turned around, each footstep purposeful as he marched toward the exit.

Hailey’s pathetic attempt at self-justification turned his stomach with disgust.

Noah halted at the threshold, his silhouette framed starkly against the doorway.

He swiveled his head, pinning the servants with a gaze so frigid they dared not even draw breath, their bodies frozen in place.

“Ms. Burgess is unwell. She requires complete home rest. Under no circumstances is she permitted to leave these premises. Am I perfectly clear?”

His words sliced through the air—each syllable a precisely aimed dagger that pierced straight to the core.

Without another word, Noah strode from the villa, his departure absolute, his back a wall of finality.

Jack scrambled after him, not brave enough to linger even a moment longer in that suffocating atmosphere.

“Sir!” Jack panted as he matched Noah’s stride, anxiety threading through his voice like a fraying wire.

“That confrontation was dangerously impulsive! If Hailey suffers any harm, the Burgess Group will unleash their full arsenal against you! Ms. Hudson and the Wall Group could become collateral damage in their vendetta!”

The terror still clung to Jack’s spine, an icy remnant of what he’d witnessed.

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That deadly glint in Noah’s eyes had been chillingly real. Had his fingers tightened just a fraction more around Hailey’s throat, they’d be facing catastrophic fallout beyond calculation.

Noah faltered mid-step. The red haze of rage had blinded his typically sharp reasoning, leaving his actions uncalculated and dangerous. Hailey deserved death, yet her demise couldn’t come now—and certainly not with his fingerprints as evidence.

He pivoted toward Jack, the murderous storm in his gaze now receding to merely threatening clouds.

“Monitor her every move,” he instructed, his tone resuming its characteristic control, though now laced with an undercurrent of frost. “Though Hailey doesn’t seem directly involved in Sadie’s car accident, her fingerprints are somewhere on this scheme. Report every breath she takes, every call she makes, directly to me—no delays.”

The notion of Hailey’s innocence struck him as laughable. Her mind calculated moves like a chess master, her heart as merciless as a winter storm.

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