Drowning Him In Regret novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Wired To My Account.

Vivian wasn’t wrong—I looked like death itself.

Three months back, cancer had roared back into my life, stripping me down to bones and shadows. I was all jagged edges, my face hollowed out.

Then there was Vivian: glowing, cute as hell, with that delicate face and huge, sparkly eyes. She could’ve been my college twin, plucked straight from my better days.

Next to her, I wasn’t just a wreck—I was barely alive, a ghost clinging to the edges.

But what could I have done? I was already halfway gone.

A coworker leaned in, whispering, “Cool it, girl. Mr. Carson was crazy about his wife. You kept running your mouth, and you’d be screwed.”

Everyone bought the lie that Jude was my forever guy.

Total bullshit. If they’d known the truth, they’d have seen he’d have danced on my grave.

Vivian rolled her eyes but slapped on a smile so fake it could’ve curdled milk. “Hey, Ada, sweetie, Mr. Carson was in the middle of a huge video call. No walk-ins, you know the deal.”

She tilted her head, that smirk creeping back. “But if it was urgent, I could’ve just… popped in and filled him in for you.”

Translation: I owned his world, and you were nothing. She was practically shoving her status in my face.

Her smile was stunning—if one ignored the cold, scheming glint in her eyes.

And that smile? God, it was like staring at my old self, back when I still had fire. No wonder Jude was hooked.

His other women—flings, “assistants,” whatever—they’d been nothing serious. Just toys for a quick thrill.

Each one was a test, a jab to see if I’d crack.

At first, I’d lost it—screamed, fought, tore into him. But the louder I got, the more he loved it, like my pain was his damn drug.

So I shut down. Went blank.

Eventually, I could’ve watched him flaunt some woman right in front of me and still closed the door with a smile, like I was their fucking butler.

But Vivian? He’d kept her hidden. No parading her at home, no shoving her in my face.

Still, the office group chat was a gossip mill—photos of them at the movies, cozy candlelit dinners, strutting around in matching outfits like some sappy rom-com couple.

That wasn’t a fling. He was in deep.

And every rumor, every image, felt like my own youth playing back to mock me.

I dropped into a chair, locking eyes with her, calm as stone.”No hurry. I’ll wait.

“Oh, and could you grab me a coffee? Milk, two sugars. Thanks.”

Vivian froze, my coolness hitting her like a slap. Her face twisted, and she snapped, “Who the hell do you think you are, bossing me around?”

“And who the hell are you?” I fired back, my voice flat, not a spark of emotion.

She choked on her words, her cheeks burning red, that bratty swagger crumbling fast.

That loud, entitled attitude? It was like staring at the old me, all spark and no scars.

Jude must’ve turned the world upside down to find a replica this flawless.