By the Time I Regretted, It Was Over

Every time my husband brought his secretary into the bedroom, he made me kneel at the bedside and wait—like a servant awaiting orders.

If the secretary fumbled or hesitated, he'd coldly gesture to me.

"Show her how it’s done," he'd say.

So I did. Step by humiliating step.

I waited quietly until they were finished, then rose to serve them tea and water as if nothing had happened.

One night, Alaric gripped my neck tightly.

"Aren’t you jealous?"

I calmly shook my head. I even laid out the contraceptives for them in advance, making sure everything was in order.

He snapped.

He threw me onto the bed, rage consuming him.

He punished me over and over again until morning light crept through the curtains.

And still, when the sun rose, I knelt at the foot of their bed again—silent and obedient.

He looked at me like I was something vile.

"Elysia," he growled, "you’re such a fucking bitch."

I only smiled at him.

Because he didn’t know—

This was the last time I would ever kneel for him.

——

When I got home that night, the scene on the sofa was all too familiar.

Arianne Carrington’s back was turned toward me, but the second she heard my footsteps, she turned, her lips curling with smug satisfaction.

I made sure she heard me. Loud, clear steps.

I tied on my apron as if I hadn’t seen anything, and quietly entered the kitchen.

I began chopping vegetables, biding my time as they finished their affair. When the living room finally fell silent, I returned to clean up their mess like I always did.

Arianne, voice hoarse from exertion, reached for the honey water I had prepared.

I knelt and offered it with both hands.

I felt like a servant from another era, bound by invisible chains.

Alaric sat smoking, his expression unreadable.

Suddenly—splash!

Arianne “accidentally” let the cup fall. The hot honey water spilled onto me, burning my skin.

"Ouch—" I gasped.

She rushed to my side, all false concern.

"Sister, are you okay?"

As she spoke, she pinched my arm hard, the pain making me flinch.

She tilted her head sweetly, masking the threat in her eyes from Alaric.

"Sister, you’re so careless. If you don’t want to serve me, just say so. No need to make a scene."

I swallowed the pain and forced a smile.

"Why should I trouble you?"

She flounced to the sofa while I crouched to wipe up the spilled honey, my hands and knees raw from the floor. Every touch stung, but I didn’t let it show. I even lifted her feet gently to clean beneath them.

"Go back."

Alaric spoke suddenly, tossing her clothes toward her.

"Alaric?"

"You’re not needed here anymore."

Arianne pouted but obeyed. She dressed, picked up the designer handbag Alaric had bought her, and walked out with one last resentful glance my way.

I stayed on the floor, unmoving.

Not because I didn’t want to get up—

but because my scraped knees made it too painful to try.

"You still have nothing to say?"

Alaric’s voice was ice.

I said nothing.

He ground his teeth in frustration.

"It’s just the two of us. No cameras, no microphones. So speak."

I nodded slowly. "I know."

With a snarl, he tossed aside his cigarette, grabbed my neck again, and shoved a photo in front of me.

"You and I both know he’s the murderer. So why won’t you testify? What’s your connection to him?"

I stared at the face in the photo and gave a bitter smile.

"I don’t know him."

"Then why are you protecting him?"

I met his fury headon.

"I’m not."

He shoved me to the ground. Pacing like a caged animal, he snapped:

"My sister treated you like family. Didn’t she?"

The mention of Seraphine twisted something in my chest.

"She was the best friend I ever had," I whispered.

He knelt and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"And this is how you repay her? By letting the man who killed her walk free?"

I was speechless.

Furious, Alaric flung a photo onto the floor. It landed face up—

Seraphine, broken and bloodied, hung lifeless from a tree. Her body, once full of laughter and warmth, was now twisted with bruises and gashes.

The sight made me scream. I covered my eyes, my entire body trembling.

That image had haunted my nightmares for months.

“You can’t even look at her,” Alaric spat. “Then tell me what that bastard did to her!”

He grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his eyes.

“I swear, Elysia—testify, and I’ll send Arianne away. Right now.”

My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I gave him a cold smile.

“No need.”

His grip froze on my shoulder.

“You’d rather watch me with her? Watch us, again and again, like some sick punishment?”

“It’s okay.”

Pa!

His palm cracked across my face.

His fist shook with fury.

“You’re disgusting, Elysia,” he growled. “You’re a goddamn bitch!”

His words cut deeper than the slap ever could.

How had it come to this?

Back in school, when boys mocked me for being plain, Alaric had beaten a dozen of them black and blue for me.

When we got married, he wouldn’t even let me touch the stove. If I so much as nicked my finger, he’d hold my hand for minutes, blowing on the wound as if it pained him more than me.

I used to think that love would last forever.

That he would always protect me.

“Alaric…” I finally whispered.

He turned sharply.

There was hope in his eyes—brief, flickering.

I tried to rise from the floor but collapsed again, the pain in my chest stealing the air from my lungs. The memory of Seraphine’s lifeless body flashed before me.

I clutched at the fabric over my heart, forcing myself to look up.

That’s when I noticed the door wasn’t fully closed.

Arianne hadn’t left.

She stood in the shadow of the hallway, peeking through the gap, one finger raised to her lips.

A wicked smile played on her lips as she made a silent shhh.

"What were you going to say?" Alaric pressed.

He was still waiting. Still clinging to the illusion that I might forgive, that I might confess something redemptive.

I said nothing.

He stepped closer.

"You must have something to say."

“Alaric.”

Arianne’s voice rang out sweetly from behind the door.

Alaric stiffened.

But he didn’t leave. He stayed there, eyes fixed on me, waiting for an answer.

I glanced toward the door, saw the tension flicker across Arianne’s face.

Then, slowly, I reached into a drawer and pulled out a box of Durex condoms.

“Don’t forget this,” I said coolly.

His eyes darkened. He let out a low, bitter laugh and flung the box at me. It bounced off my chest and landed on the floor.

Without another word, he stormed off.

Arianne gave a satisfied smirk as she stepped back in and gently shut the door behind her.

The click echoed like a gunshot.

I clenched the fabric at my chest and leaned against the wall, knees still raw, cheek stinging.

No... not yet.

Just a little longer.

I searched the entire manor before I finally found a dusty first aid kit tucked away in a forgotten cabinet. My wounds were clumsy and hastily treated, but they stopped bleeding.

Alaric didn’t return for a full month.

Then one day, the front door burst open with a bang.

He came charging in, cradling a pale and bloodstreaked Arianne in his arms. A full medical team followed behind—private, toptier, the same team that had once been on standby for me… before Seraphine died.

“Call the doctor!” he shouted. “Hurry up!”

I stood there, numb, as he paced outside the emergency treatment room, wringing his hands.

Suddenly, he turned on me.

“Why did you push her?!”

I blinked, stunned.

“She’s over a month pregnant! Did you know that and still choose to hurt her?!”

I looked at him, then at Arianne lying inside the room.

Her brows were barely furrowed. She looked more bored than in pain.

But her wails were loud and piercing, echoing off the walls.

She turned her face slightly and shot me a warning glance.

And I—

I smiled.

“Yes,” I said, calmly. “So what if I did?”

Alaric’s expression collapsed.

He stared at me, like he no longer recognized the woman in front of him.

“Do you even know what you’re saying?”

I looked him dead in the eyes.

“I do.”