Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 25

A tall man leaned casually against the hood of his car, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Pale smoke curled around his face, blurring his features, but his deep-set eyes swept over the men's coat draped around her shoulders, unreadable and cold.

Jonathan glanced at Charlotte, then turned his attention to Evander. "Waiting for someone, Mr. Howard?"

Waiting for someone...

Tricia had already left the hospital. Who could he possibly be waiting for?

Could it be… her?

The idea flashed through Charlotte's mind, and she almost wanted to laugh at how absurd it sounded.

Evander exhaled a thin stream of smoke, flicked the cigarette to the ground, and crushed it under his shoe. His gaze, sharp as ice, landed on Jonathan. "Is it your hobby, Mr. Pembroke, to meddle in other people's business?"

Meddle in other people's business...

The words struck Charlotte in the chest, knocking the color from her lips.

So all along—Tricia scheming against her tonight—had it been his idea?

Her blood ran cold at the thought, a chill creeping into her hands and feet.

Jonathan noticed the change in Charlotte's expression. Narrowing his eyes, he looked back at Evander. "Funny, I always thought helping a lady in trouble was called being a gentleman, not meddling."

Evander's brow tightened.

Jonathan was about to say more, but Charlotte suddenly tugged his sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. "Jonathan, could you take me home, please?"

She was shaking.

Jonathan glanced at Evander, then nodded to Charlotte without another word.

But before they could leave, Evander's voice cut through the chill night air: "Charlotte."

She froze.

He never used her name in front of others. He'd always been careful to keep their connection secret.

So what was this now?

She didn't turn around, just started to walk away.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" His voice dropped, heavy and commanding.

Charlotte's hand, still bandaged from her earlier injury, twisted as she braced herself—fresh blood seeping through the gauze.

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