Drowning Him In Regret novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Sign It Myself

Jude didn’t come home that night. He was still glued to Vivian’s side, playing her personal hero.

The company group chat was a dumpster fire, everyone piling on with their hot takes.

[Mr. Carson’s gotta chill, man. A little scrape, and he’s carting her to the hospital?]

[That’s his golden girl, idiots. Dude was sweating bullets.]

[Was Ada at the office to drag the sidepiece or what?]

[Heard she only wanted 30 grand. Kinda sad, right? I priced Vivian’s necklace—65 grand, no cap.]

I killed the app, a bitter smirk twisting my mouth.

The “CEO’s wife,” some pathetic sob story? Please. That was rich.

The noise yanked me awake, and sleep wasn’t happening. So, I started packing.

This wasn’t my first hospital go-around—I could’ve done it in my sleep. I grabbed my stuff with cold, practiced hands.

Everything at home was Jude’s idea of “classy.” Silk sheets that cost more than my rent back in the day, fluffy duvets, even the tissues were some fancy imported bullshit.

I jammed it all into my suitcase, no guilt. Hospitals would rob you blind, and I wasn’t wasting a dime.

Sure, I had that hundred grand now, but what if surgery hit me with some nasty surprise?

In there, cash burned faster than I can blink. I’d rather hoard it than get caught short.

My jewelry was a joke—barely enough to fill a thimble. I stood by the cabinet, glaring at the electronic lock, then let it go.

Smash it? Yeah, that’d probably screw me out of the operating room entirely.

Instead, I dug through my little box and pulled out some basic gold studs and a diamond ring so small it was practically invisible.

Jude said it was the ring—the one he scraped together to propose with back when we were nobodies.

God, he must’ve starved for months to buy it. I slipped it on, my heart giving a stupid little twist.

It was worthless now—pawn it, and I’d be lucky to get gas money. The setting was so tacky it was almost funny.

But it’s something. Maybe my last-ditch shot if shit hits the fan.

Bags packed, I started hunting for a caregiver who wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg. Then sunrise crept in.

My doctor called, sounding like he’d just won the lottery. “I’ve got admissions sorted. Get over here and sign the forms.”

“Drop ten thousand up front, and we’ll stick you in a shared room. You can go halves on a caregiver with the other patient.”

He knew I was scraping by and had every cheap trick in the book ready for me.

I muttered thanks, dragging my suitcase to the door.

Just as I was about to ditch, a pitiful whimper hit me from next door.

The neighbor’s door swung open with a bang, and Toto, that giant dork of a dog, came barreling toward me, yowling like I was ghosting him for good.

I dropped to my knees, choking back a sob, and hugged his giant head. “Be good, buddy. Mommy’s coming back soon, I swear. You hang in there.”

And if I didn’t, you better live your best life.