Chapter 150

Evelyn remained silent.

Alexander said nothing either.

Vivian clutched her phone, barely daring to breathe.

The room was eerily quiet, the only sound being the howling wind from the other end of the call.

After what felt like an eternity, Alexander finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion.

"...I failed Grandma. That time at the resort, when my mother's hypertension nearly delayed her emergency treatment, I should've been more vigilant. But I never imagined she'd dare disturb Grandma... Grandma didn't even get to finish her last words..."

"...And our child..."

"I had everything. A devoted wife, a warm home, a baby on the way. Evelyn, every time I see someone else's child now, it feels like a knife twisting in my heart..."

"How did it come to this? I... I regret it so much..."

"Evelyn," his voice cracked, pleading, "If now—"

"There are no 'ifs.'" Evelyn cut him off coldly.

"..."

"Your regrets are your own. We're divorced. We're strangers now. I let your drunken outburst slide last time. But I owe you nothing. I won't sacrifice my life to atone for your mistakes. Understand?"

"...I do, but—"

"No 'buts.'" Her tone was glacial. "Before the divorce, I gave you countless chances. You chose her. Remember?"

"..."

"Now that you regret it, I'm supposed to gratefully take you back? Alexander, what do you take me for? First, I was Annabelle's stand-in. Now, I'm your backup plan?"

"..."

"We lived together for three years. Before, I didn't know about you and Annabelle. But now that I do, do you really think I'm the kind of woman who can't live without you?!"

The line went silent for a long moment. Alexander seemed to finally grasp his own audacity, exhaling heavily. "Of course not."

"I didn't want to be this harsh. Can't we just part amicably? Alexander, if you'd stayed with Annabelle till the end, I might've respected you more. What's the point of regret now?"

"..."

"I had it all planned out. Your mother is hospitalized at my workplace. She's always been kind to me, so I'd ask my colleagues to look after her. If we crossed paths, we could exchange polite greetings. We didn't have to burn bridges! Why did you have to tear down that last shred of civility? Do you really want us to become sworn enemies?"

"...I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'm sick of hearing it." Her voice was icy. "If it were me, I'd never have made this call, let alone spouted this nonsense about regret! I avoided you. I turned off my phone. Wasn't that clear enough? I didn't want to hear any of this. You made your choice—now live with it. Can't we at least preserve some dignity? Do I have to spell out every cruel word until we can't even face each other again?"