HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 235

**Shadows of the Past – By Emma Clarke**
**Chapter 235**

The weight of the moment pressed heavily on Vanessa, making her feel increasingly trapped. In a swift motion, she pivoted, her heart racing as she maneuvered through the throng of people. The chaos around her surged like a tide, and her lawyer, along with the court staff, worked diligently to keep the relentless reporters at bay, their voices piercing through the air.

“Miss Vanessa! Miss Vanessa, could you answer just one more question?” one shouted, desperation lacing his tone.

“What are your feelings toward Miss Althea?!” another voice chimed in, the urgency palpable.

“Is this the end of your career?!” a third voice called out, seeking a glimpse into her turmoil.

The questions bombarded her from every angle, relentless and unyielding. Vanessa pressed on, her head bowed low, refusing to engage with the frenzy that surrounded her. Her expression was taut, a mask of strained composure, as she fought against the tears threatening to spill. No, she would not allow them to fall—not in front of the world that had turned so cruelly against her.

Finally, she arrived at the sleek black car waiting for her, the door swinging open like a portal to escape. Without hesitation, she slipped inside, the heaviness of her emotions crashing over her as she slammed the door shut behind her. The vehicle pulled away swiftly, leaving the throng of reporters behind, still clamoring against the windows, desperate to capture every fleeting moment.

Outside, in the courthouse lobby, the atmosphere buzzed with fervor. The crowd wasted no time, their excitement palpable as they spread the scandal that would soon dominate the headlines of Mighatan. The divorce, the entanglements with other parties—it was the sort of melodrama that the public craved, not just in Mighatan but in every neighboring city.

The reporters’ voices rose, sharp and eager, as they relayed the unfolding narrative.

“Just moments ago, Vanessa Khiel issued a formal apology to Althea Grayson, as mandated by the court’s ruling,” one reporter exclaimed, a gleam of triumph in his eyes.

“Yet her expression was clearly one of reluctance, and she continues to dodge questions about her future,” another added, their tone dripping with intrigue.

In mere minutes, the story exploded across online platforms, television screens, and social media feeds. Bold headlines blared with sensationalism:

“Vanessa Blake Finally Issues Public Apology!”

“Vanessa’s Apology Seen as Insincere—Public Claims: Her Face Showed Only Anger.”

“Court Ruling Marks the End of a Pop Star’s Career?”

Public sentiment erupted in a cacophony of opinions. Some cheered, exclaiming that justice was finally served for Althea. Others mourned the fall of Vanessa, once a beloved icon, now reduced to a figure of pity.

Inside the confines of the car, Vanessa’s hands were clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil. She didn’t care if the pressure drew blood; it was a distraction from the storm of fury raging within her. Each heartbeat echoed with a singular thought—she would make Althea pay for this humiliation.

Daven let out a frustrated huff, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

“And now that Miss Althea has won the case, her presence in Mighatan is confirmed one hundred percent. She attended court this afternoon.” Arsen turned the tablet toward him, revealing a striking photo of Althea standing before the press—serene, composed, her smile calm yet commanding, her words delivered with unwavering conviction.

She had spoken briefly about the trial, about her plans for the future.

Daven hadn’t wanted to look. He told himself that it wasn’t worth his time or energy. But his eyes betrayed him, lingering on her image against his better judgment.

Arsen’s voice faded into the background, becoming little more than a distant hum. All of Daven’s attention was consumed by the screen.

In that image… Althea stood amidst a sea of reporters, her tranquil smile radiating quiet strength. She exuded an aura of confidence, as if the grueling trial had failed to leave a mark on her. Her eyes sparkled with determination, her lips curved in a graceful smile, as though she had already charted her course, every word and every step mapped out in her mind.

Daven had never truly appreciated that allure before. To the man he once was, Althea had been merely the wife he married out of obligation, never a choice. He had been blind—blinded by pride, blinded by a love from the past that clung stubbornly to life, blinded by his own foolishness that reduced Althea to nothing more than a shadow. Now, in the stillness of his thoughts, his heart trembled with a new awareness.

There was a different kind of beauty in her. Not just the elegance of her features, but the dignity, the resilience, the undeniable grace that emanated from her presence. It was as if every wound, every tear, every humiliation she had faced had forged her into someone far stronger—someone far more captivating than anyone Daven had ever encountered.