My Regret Is a Shore No One Crossed

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On the drive to the hospital for Lois Thomas to give birth, her phone rang.

A man's voice came through the car's speakers.

I'm back. Divorce him. Please?

Lois didn't answer. She reached over and cut the call, like it was nothing.

I thought that was a clean, flat no.

Then that same night, straight out of the delivery room, she had her lawyer bring over a divorce agreement.

Looking at the restraint in her eyes, I signed it calmly and asked, "Do you want me out of the apartment tonight?"

I don't think she'd heard the frantic pleading she'd braced for. On that cool, unbothered face of hers, something like surprise flickered, rare as it was.

She was quiet for a beat. "No need. The apartment gets transferred into your name tomorrow."

I said nothing. I nodded and walked out.

What Lois didn't know is that this move, yielding to gain ground, works every single time in my line of gold-digging.

01

I looked at her cold, clean features and said quietly, "It's late. You just gave birth. Get some rest. I'll sleep in the guest room."

Then I stood to go.

As I passed the bed, she grabbed my wrist hard.

She lay there, brows pressed low, lips tight, looking confused and angry at once.

She asked, "Victor, why aren't you making a scene?"

"If I did, would you not divorce me?"

She stiffened. Finally she said, low, "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

I turned my head, just enough for the red rims of my eyes to show, and said softly, "Sure. I believe you."

The living room light stayed on all night.

The next day, when we went to the county registry office to make it official, the compensation section of the agreement had grown by a few more pages.

Once the paperwork was done, Lois did something she'd never done before. She caught my hand and said, "Let's get a meal together."

Any other time, I'd have been over the moon.

Lois was cold by habit; she'd never once reached for me first.

But now I stepped back half a pace, head lowered. "Ms. Thomas, that wouldn't be right."

Her frown deepened, like she wasn't used to me keeping my distance.

"Victor," she said, edgy now, "we're just divorced, not enemies. We can still be friends."

I paused. I let it pass.

Three years ago, after all, she'd told me I wasn't even fit to stand in front of her.

Taking my silence for agreement, she opened the car door for me herself.

She'd never done anything like that before.

I dropped my eyes. "Your pregnancy nausea's been bad. You can't take the smell of a restaurant."

She went still, as if only now remembering she'd just had the baby. Again, low: "I'm sorry."

I nodded and said, politely, "Then I won't trouble you, Ms. Thomas. I'll be going."

Her lips pressed thinner. A little anger seemed to gather in her.

But looking at my eyes, still swollen and red, she forced it down.

"Get in. I'll drive you home."

This time I didn't refuse. Yielding once or twice is strategy; do it too many times and it just looks like putting on airs.

The whole way, she kept starting to speak and stopping.

I knew what she wanted to say.

So I said it first. "I'll take the child. I won't put you in a hard spot."

I thought that was thoughtful of me. Her reaction was nothing like I'd imagined.

Her face darkened, and anger flickered in those black eyes.

"Victor Pruitt, is it really so unbearable to you, letting me raise our child?"

That caught me off guard.

Normally Lois was a block of ice, quiet, rarely showing anything.

Except in bed, she never lost control.

This was the first time she'd shown me anger.

I didn't argue. I curled my fingers and pinched lightly at the hem of my shirt, and asked back, "We can't very well let the child carry the name of a bastard his whole life."

Her jaw clenched, thin lips nearly a flat line.

Everyone in our circle knew it, after all. The one thing Lois hated most was an illegitimate child.

In their circle, no matter how many lovers a man kept on the side, in public everyone made a show of protecting his lawful wife.

There was an old saying, after all, that a man who wronged his wife would be plagued by every kind of illness, so whatever they truly did, they kept up appearances.

Except for Lois Thomas's father.

Leon Thomas was the first man to bring his mistress and his illegitimate son home.

Not long after, Lois's mother jumped to her death.

From childhood Lois was mistreated by her stepmother and bullied by that illegitimate son.

Everyone assumed she would be crushed for good.

Instead she endured it, quietly gathering evidence, and at eighteen she handed the report to the internal affairs unit and put her own father in prison with her own hands.

Then, with her grandfather's help, she took over all of Thomas Group.

By twenty, she had her footing in the Thomas family.

At twenty-one, the illegitimate son who had bullied her all those years died in international waters, not a bone of him left.

After that, everyone knew exactly what would set her off.

And right now Lois's face was dark, and she said, almost on impulse, "Victor, I'm keeping the baby."

I didn't answer.

Because a second later, her gaze went past me, through the car window, and settled on someone.

I followed her eyes.

Outside our house stood a man in a trench coat.

At some point a light rain had started, soaking his clothes and his hair, and he looked pitiful standing there.

It took me only a moment to guess he was the one who had called Lois.

Sure enough, the next second she pushed the car door open and ran to him, holding him tight, like something precious she'd lost and found again.

I thought I had braced myself for this. But watching it, my chest hurt so much I could barely breathe.

So this was what it looked like when Lois loved someone.

In a daze, I realized she had already pulled the man over to the car.

When she saw I was still inside, her brows drew together and her voice went cold. "Get out."

I bit my lip and opened the door, and the moment I steadied myself the car sped off, spraying muddy water all over me.

I stood there quietly, watching her car disappear, wiped the rain from the corner of my eye, and only then went inside.

Nothing in the house had changed, yet even the light felt cold.

I dug out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.

"Hey, Grant, I've got a villa to sell. Do you have any buyers?"

There was silence on the other end, and then, as if he'd caught on to something, he suddenly asked, "You got divorced?"

"Yeah."

"Let's meet tomorrow. We'll talk in person."

He hung up before I could say anything else, and my nose stung anyway.

Grant Mann's reputation in the circle wasn't good, or rather it was rotten through, but he was the only person who was ever good to me.

He was a well-known gold digger in that world.

He wasn't after people, wasn't after love, only after money.

He was like a pretty vase, passed around and played with by all the rich second-generation kids, and as long as you gave him some luxury item, he'd revolve around you.

Give him a car and a house, and he'd do a lot more.

Everyone assumed that once he was no longer young and handsome he'd be tossed aside, but who could have guessed he'd go straight for those rich kids' mothers and latch on to some powerful bigshot.

The two of them even went abroad and had a son.

After that, Grant never again had to flatter this one and that one, never again had to be treated like a plaything.

At first I disliked him too.

I thought he had no self-respect, no regard for himself, that he'd made a mess of his own life.

I even said as much to his face.

But when he'd heard me out, all he said was, "There are plenty of roads that lead up in this world. But if you want to keep climbing, either you get strong enough that everyone bows to you, or you find a way to take their money."

"The money and the power in this worldif you won't do everything you can to wrestle it out of their hands, and instead sit there talking about your pride, then you're a joke."

"It doesn't matter who you are. First you need money, then you'll have the nerve to stand your ground. Once you've got that, then you can have power."

I scoffed at all of it.

It wasn't until the car crash shattered my leg and I couldn't even cover the surgery that I understood how much money mattered.

Back then I had no one. The only person I could turn to was Grant.

All these years later, he's still the only one I can go to.

Sitting in the caf, I laughed at myself, bitterly. When Grant walked in and saw the state of me, he couldn't help frowning.

I started to greet him, but he cut me off. "This isn't the place to talk."

Then he took me to a private restaurant, got us a room, and went straight to the point. "How much did the divorce get you?"

I pulled the divorce agreement out of my bag and handed it over.

Grant took one look and his whole face lit up. "Lois Thomas is generous, I'll give her that. Every property in her name goes to you, plus thirty million in settlement money. You made out like a bandit."

I don't know why my eyes suddenly stung, but the tears wouldn't stop.

"Grant, this wasn't what she planned to give."

I'd read the first draft of the agreement. Lois had given me one apartment, not big, about a thousand square feet, three bedrooms, enough for one person to live in.

The settlement wasn't small either. Two million, and then half a million a year after that for living expenses.

More than enough for me to live comfortably on my own.

But to Lois, that money was nothing, a drop in the bucket. It left me with this feeling that I didn't deserve it.

Maybe it wasn't just a feeling.

Grant didn't try to comfort me when I cried. He just pulled a couple of napkins out and pressed them into my hand, and only once I'd calmed down did he say, "Then you're good. Rich people are usually tight-fisted, always afraid someone's after their money. Getting this much out of Lois Thomas takes real skill."

I opened my mouth and didn't know what to say.

The truth was, marrying Lois, I'd never once thought about getting anything out of her, and Grant knew that.

That's why, three years ago, when Lois and I registered our marriage, he was the one who cut off contact with me.

It was only when the divorce agreement landed in my hands that something in me refused to accept it.

Refused to accept being kicked out of my own home over one sentence from another man.

So without thinking, I'd wanted to do something.

Grant seemed to read my mind. He put the agreement back in my hand and said, "You did nothing wrong. When it comes to money and a person, you've got to want one of them."

Then he called the waiter over and ordered a bottle of champagne.

"Victor Pruitt, congratulations on escaping the grave that is marriage, and congratulations on becoming a rich man. Cheers!"

My fingers tightened around the glass, and I didn't hide it. "Grant, I still have to get home to see the baby."

"How old?"

"Born just a few days ago."

Grant slammed his glass down. "Lois Thomas really is a piece of shit."

He was so furious his vision went black, and it took him a while to come back to himself. When he did, he was blunt about it. "The months are still early. End it now, don't keep the kid."

My eyes went wide with shock.

I'd assumed Grant would tell me to take the baby and then keep hitting Lois up for child support.

When he heard what I'd been thinking, he let out a sneer. "I did what I did because no one can guarantee my future. But you? You already got a settlement that big. What do you need a kid for? Do you really want to be tied to Lois Thomas for the rest of your life?"

One line, and everything came clear.

The knot in my chest over the baby loosened, little by little.

I hated giving up this small life. But my future was mine.

I spent the whole afternoon with Grant. As I left, he said, "Remember to get a lawyer. Sort out the compensation part of the divorce agreement, make it your own private property. Don't let Lois Thomas set a trap for you and claw everything back once the ink's dry."

I didn't think Lois would pull something like that. Still, to be safe, I hired a lawyer.

Sorting the assets was more trouble than I'd expected. Lois had given me too much, and I was buried in it, dizzy every day, so I left the baby with Grant for the time being.

No sooner had I finished counting the assets than Grant called again to say he'd found a buyer, and I needed to clear out the house fast.

So I threw myself into packing and moving.

I didn't bother contacting Lois to come get her things. I just threw them all out.

Only, while I was clearing the study, I turned up a sealed file envelope, still stamped with the Thomas Group company seal.

That one I couldn't just toss.

I thought about it, then called Lois.

The line picked up after only two rings, but the voice that came through wasn't hers. It was a man's.

"Hello, what do you want with Lois?"

His tone wasn't friendly. He must have seen my name saved in her phone and guessed who I was.

I kept my voice level. "Hello. Could you put Ms. Thomas on? There's something of hers she left behind at the house. She'll need to come pick it up."

Instead, a mocking laugh came down the line. "Victor Pruitt, quit playing your little games. Lois isn't coming back."

And with that, he hung up on me.

I listened to the flat dial tone, one beep after another, and my head started to ache.

So I called Lois's driver instead.

He sounded genuinely torn. "Mr. Pruitt, Mr. Mason gave orders. You're not allowed to contact Ms. Thomas."

That was how I learned the man who could end Lois's marriage with a single word was called Reg Mason.

There was nothing for it. I'd have to take the sealed file to Lois's office myself.

Back when Lois and I got married, we'd only signed at the registry, no ceremony. It was basically a secret marriage, so the front desk at the company didn't know me.

I only meant to drop the file off and have them pass it to Lois.

But I'd barely arrived when the receptionist said, "Good afternoon, sir. Ms. Thomas would like you to come up."

I didn't think much of it and followed her upstairs.

The second I stepped into Lois's office, a cup of scalding coffee came flying at my face.

I ducked fast, but some of it still caught me, the whole left side of my arm scalded red.

"You trash. You really love playing the homewrecker that much, clinging to Lois and refusing to let go?"

Something Grant had said to me came back all at once.

He'd told me, "If the man who's making Lois divorce you starts pushing you around, don't take it. You've got leverage now. Go ahead and make their lives good and miserable."

So I lifted my eyes to Reg Mason and smiled. "Mr. Mason, Lois and I haven't even hit the cooling-off period yet. Our marriage certificate is still legally valid. Which means you're the one playing homewrecker here."

Reg clearly hadn't expected me to talk back. Shame twisted straight into fury, and he lunged at me to slap me across the face.

I didn't dodge. I took it full on.

He hit hard. My lip split, and blood came.

Seeing me like that didn't seem to satisfy him. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, aiming to drive his foot hard into my stomach.

I hadn't thought he'd be this vicious. I twisted away just in time.

The moment his kick landed on nothing, I turned and ran, shouting as I went, "Mr. Mason, please, stop hitting me. I'll divorce Lois, I'll send the baby far away, I won't bother the two of you, just stop hitting me..."

Reg went mad with rage, chasing after me to shut me up, which was exactly what I wanted.

The executive floor was nearly empty. There was no point performing up there.

The elevator was too slow, so I took the fire stairs.

Down at the bottom I burst out into the open, threw myself to the floor as if I'd fallen, and cried and screamed in terror, drawing every eye in an instant.

Then I shouted it all again, loud.

"Mr. Mason, please, stop hitting me. I'll divorce Lois, I'll send the baby far away, I won't bother the two of you, just stop hitting me..."

But the uproar I'd expected never came. The staff sat quietly at their desks, not daring to breathe a sound.

I lifted my head, a little lost, and met Lois's eyes across the distance.