Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 117

"I just feel like we have a connection." Wesley's gaze drifted to his mother. "And seeing how close she is to you… Well, you've more than earned this compensation."

Charlotte picked up her coffee cup. "Mr. Rayburn, forgive me for asking, but—what happened to your mother? Was there some kind of trauma?"

From the way they carried themselves, it was clear the Rayburns came from a prominent background. In families like this, marrying someone with mental health issues was nearly unheard of, so Charlotte doubted Mrs. Rayburn had been born this way.

It seemed more likely she'd suffered some kind of shock.

Wesley tapped his fingers against the table. "If things hadn't gone wrong all those years ago, I'd have a little sister now."

Charlotte blinked. "A sister?"

He nodded. "After my mother gave birth, the doctors told her the baby was stillborn. She saw it happen with her own eyes, and her mind has never really recovered. Some days she's lucid, other days she's lost in confusion. She's always believed my sister is still alive—that she didn't die."

"No wonder," Charlotte murmured, glancing at Mrs. Rayburn, who was sitting nearby feeding milk to a doll. "Losing your own child… I can't imagine how hard that must be."

She found herself envious of children who had loving parents.

Unlike her…

Her own birth parents had abandoned her the moment she was born.

Maybe it was that lack of love as a child that made her crave affection so desperately now. Pathetic, really—pathetic and small.

But at least…

She had nothing left to lose.

…

That afternoon, rain poured down. Wesley's driver took Charlotte back to Tranquility Manor. As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, the sharp tang of cigarette smoke hit her.

Evander stood by the trash can near the elevator, tapping ashes into the sand tray. His eyes were dark and empty, as if staring into a bottomless sea. "You sent that photo to my mother, didn't you?"

She'd known this was coming.

Charlotte didn't deny it. "I did."

He narrowed his eyes, danger flickering in his gaze. "How did you find out?"

Charlotte pulled out the chat log she'd prepared and set it on the table in front of him, her lips curling into a smile. "Your first love sent it to me. Congratulations, Mr. Howard—the Howard family just got a ready-made son, so no one has to nag you about having kids anymore!"

"Charlotte, didn't I tell you to keep Tricia out of our business?" Evander suddenly grabbed her face, his grip tight. She stiffened, shaking her head to get away, but he slid his hand down, clamping it onto her jaw, squeezing until she winced in pain. "What do you want, sending that photo to my mother?"

He looked at her as if she were reckless and laughable. "What, are you trying to show off in front of her? Or hoping my mother will take your side against them?"

Charlotte's smile froze. "If the Howard family accepts this kid, that just means you'll have an heir. I'm doing you a favor."

He let go, and Charlotte stumbled back, barely catching herself.

"Don't meddle," he said, crushing his cigarette into the tray. "He's not my son."

Charlotte scoffed, brushing past him and glancing at his stormy profile. "Whether he's your son or not—that's none of my business."

Before he could react, she walked inside.

Evander stayed in the hallway, half his face bathed in sunlight, the other half shrouded in shadow, his reflection fractured in the glass.

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