HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 378

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

**Chapter 378**

The sound of shattering glass echoed sharply through the air as the bottle collided with the pavement, splintering into a thousand shards precisely where Daven’s head had been just moments before. Arsen’s eyes widened, a flicker of alarm coursing through him as he gestured to the guards, urging them to tighten their formation around Daven.

Then, a frenzy erupted—flashes from news cameras illuminating the chaos, each click feeding the growing hysteria of the crowd.

“He’s being protected!” someone shouted, their voice rising above the clamor.

“Don’t let him escape!” another voice cried, urgency lacing every syllable.

The crowd’s anger morphed into a palpable force, a wave of bodies surging forward against the barricades. Two undercover guards stepped up, their presence a bulwark against the tide of aggression.

“No one gets close!” Arsen barked, his voice low yet commanding, slicing through the tumult. “This level of aggression is simply unacceptable.”

“We need to get back to the car,” one of the guards spoke urgently into his earpiece, the tension in his voice evident. “Traffic control is already moving in to secure the area.”

“Wait. I’m not—” Daven began, but his protest was cut short.

“Mr. Daven, this isn’t a negotiation,” Arsen interjected, gripping Daven’s shoulder with a firm, steady hand. “They’re not here to talk.”

In that moment, an older man forced his way through the throng, a stone clenched tightly in his fist, his eyes blazing with fury.

“We won’t believe a word from your family! Nothing has changed! All of you just want our money!” he shouted, each word dripping with contempt.

One of the guards sprang into action, stepping in front of the man before he could advance any further. The crowd erupted in a chorus of outrage, their anger igniting like dry tinder. Children cried, mothers shouted, and reporters snapped photos as if the scene had been carefully staged for their benefit.

Within moments, police officers stationed nearby rushed in, attempting to contain the escalating chaos. Yet, the majority of the protesters hurled insults at them, their voices a cacophony of cries for justice and accusations of betrayal.

Arsen finally pulled Daven back toward the car, urgency in his movements. “We’re leaving. Now.”

With no choice left, Daven climbed into the vehicle, the door slamming shut behind him. Instantly, the roar of the crowd assaulted the glass, their fists pounding like a relentless storm.

“I didn’t expect it to be this extreme,” Daven murmured, his jaw clenched tight, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

“Neither did I, sir. The data I reviewed didn’t indicate such a volatile situation. This protest must be orchestrated. Someone is intentionally inciting them,” Arsen replied, his brow furrowing with concern. “I even noticed reporters waiting for your arrival. It’s all far too… coordinated.”

Daven’s gaze flicked back to the window, watching as people pushed against the barricades, arguing vehemently with the officers trying to maintain order. “If we didn’t have protection out there…”

“It wouldn’t have been just a bottle flying at you, Mr. Daven. They might have dragged you out and demanded answers on the spot.” Arsen exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. “You’re really putting my heart through hell today.”

The car sped away, leaving behind a cacophony of voices and raised fists, a tempest of outrage. Daven closed his eyes for a brief moment, forcing his breath to steady, to find some semblance of calm amidst the chaos.

“That’s enough for today,” he finally declared, his voice firm. “Inform their representatives that I’ll meet with four of them. Only four. Tomorrow morning.”

“Understood.” Arsen was already tapping away at his phone, but before he could continue, he added, “We should stop by a hospital first. You need to be checked. I don’t want Mrs. Althea worrying about you later.”

***

The hotel room exuded an eerie silence, yet the tension hung in the air like a thick fog. Daven shrugged off his coat, letting it fall onto the sofa with a heavy thud. Tonight, all he craved was a glass of wine—just enough to dull the irritation that burned within his chest, a fire that refused to be extinguished.

His gaze drifted toward the television, where the news replayed the chaotic scene in an endless loop.

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