Ignore Hubby and Son's Regret Shining Now novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3 I Quit, Mr. Blackwell

Demi froze. No matter how many times Nevin had disappointed her, his cold voice still pierced her heart like a needle.
Her smile faded. “Alright,” she said quietly, eyes downcast.
Nevin had expected Demi to fight back, maybe even yell. But her calm obedience caught him off guard. For the first time, he really looked at her.
Rhea was right. Demi had lost a lot of weight lately.
Maybe her nausea last night wasn’t a jealous act after all.
Nevin pressed his lips together, his tone softening a little. “Ms. Dunn is doing great at her job. Your only duty now is to take care of Orion.”
Then his voice turned sharp again. “I’ve told you many times—there’s nothing going on between me and her. Demi, stop being dramatic. Don’t make me regret choosing you as my wife.”
Regret?
She smiled bitterly. If anyone regretted it, it was her. She had given up her family business and traded it for this hollow title as his wife.
Demi came from a prestigious family. Wouldn’t it be better to go back and live as the beloved heiress of the Snow Group, adored and protected by everyone?
Closing her eyes, Demi pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. Her tone was polite but distant. “Mr. Blackwell, please approve my resignation. Starting tomorrow, I’ll officially leave the company.”
She turned to leave, but just as she reached the door, Nevin grabbed her arm.
“Demi?”
His voice carried surprise, as if he hadn’t processed what just happened.
Nevin glanced down at the resignation letter in his hand, her signature printed clearly in black ink. His face darkened, anger flickering in his eyes.
“You’re doing this out of spite?” he demanded.
“I thought you came here to make peace, but you’re just making it worse?”
Demi kept her gaze low, her long lashes trembling slightly.
“No, Mr. Blackwell,” she said calmly. “You said the company doesn’t need me. Turns out, I feel the same way.”
“Ten years have passed. This company isn’t what it used to be,” Demi said calmly. “Since everyone seems to adore Ms. Dunn, there’s no point in me sitting around collecting a paycheck. I’d rather step down and make room for her.”
Nevin let out a cold laugh. His eyes were sharp as blades, cutting straight through her words.
“Don’t use these ten years to guilt-trip me. I know how much you’ve done for this company. You were a good employee once. But Demi, ever since you gave birth, you haven’t been involved in business at all. I’ve been patient with you.”
He leaned closer, his tone low and dismissive. “As long as you take care of our child, you’ll always be the lady of the household. That’s all I’ve ever asked, but you couldn’t even manage that.”
Nevin’s voice grew harsher. “And now you want to step down gracefully? You just want to throw Rhea into the spotlight and make her take the blame. Demi, I know you too well. You’re full of scheme, but I’m warning you don’t be so vicious.”
He paused, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Have you even apologized to Rhea for the incident happened last night?”
Apologize?
To the homewrecker destroyed my family?
Shouldn’t Rhea be the one who owed me a thank you?
Demi suddenly laughed, the sound soft but cutting. She tilted her head, looking at him with calm curiosity. “You’re right. I’m vicious. But tell me, Mr. Blackwell, have you ever thought about giving up the appearance?”
By giving up meant divorce.
They’d fought about it many times over the years. Every argument ended the same way—no resolution, just silence.
Nevin would never agree. Even if he cheated, Demi was still his wife.
That was the kind of man Nevin was—controlling, arrogant, and born to dominate.
At first, Demi didn’t really want to leave. She just wanted him to look at her again, to remember she was there.
But now, she was tired.
A clean break, each walked their own ways.
Each of them had a child. That didn’t sound so bad anymore.
Nevin’s expression darkened like a storm. He grabbed her arm so hard it hurt, his grip full of rage.
“This is your last chance, Demi. If you keep failing, I’ll have to find Orion a new mother.”
He didn’t stop there. “Do you know how many times Orion’s told me he’s miserable with you? No fun. No freedom. Nothing.”
His voice turned to ice. “Why do you fail at everything—as a wife and as a mother?”
Failure.
Demi closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath.
So that’s how it was.
All those nights she stayed up waiting for him, making him warm lemon tea after his drinking session was a failure.
The times she hand-washed his couture suits and got frostbite in the dead of winter—failure.
Even teaching their son advanced math to meet the high standards of being a heir of the Blackwells—still a failure.
There was no place left for her in this house.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwell,” she said quietly.
Her tone was calm, sincere.
A loser should know when to take her final bow.
Her other hand slipped into her pocket. She opened her phone and tapped the screen.
A countdown started—another 14 days to go.
When it hit zero, she would be gone. Completely. No more arguments, no more tears, no more bothering Nevin with her existence.
Her calmness caught him off guard.
Nevin wanted to say something—anything—but Demi didn’t give him the chance.
She walked away resolutely. Nevin reached out to stop her, but his hand closed on nothing but air.
A sharp pain clenched his chest as he watched her go, a strange panic building inside him.
Nevin frowned, watching Demi walk away. It felt like something important, something he couldn’t name was slipping further and further from him.
Once she stepped outside, Demi pulled out her phone and made a call to her best friend, Phoebe Lennon.
They used to be best friends, but they hadn’t spoken in seven years.
Phoebe was a fashion designer who practically lived on airplanes, traveling across the country to tailor clothes for models.
Some were male, some female. Well, things sometimes happened between adults who worked that closely.
To put it simply, Phoebe changed boyfriends as easily as changing outfits. Nevin couldn’t stand that about her. After Demi gave birth to Orion, he told her to stay away from Phoebe, worried she’d be a bad influence and corrupted their son.
And Demi listened. She actually listened. For six whole years, she cut off her oldest friend, just because her husband said so.
It had been a long time since Phoebe last heard from Demi. The moment she picked up, her voice was sharp with anger. “So you finally remembered me! I thought you’d completely lost your mind over that man. What happened? Regret finally hit you?”
Demi couldn’t help but laugh through her tears.
Nevin’s insults hadn’t made her cry. Rhea’s tricks hadn’t made her cry. Even watching her son calling another woman mother hadn’t broken her.
But hearing Phoebe’s voice did. For the first time, she cried from regret.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I regret it. Phoebe, Is it too late to come back to you now?”
Hearing Demi’s sincere voice, there was a long pause on the other end. When Phoebe finally spoke again, her voice was trembling with tears too.
“It’s never too late. You finally came to your senses. You idiot, do you know how hard it’s been running the studio without you all these years?”
Her tone turned fierce again, full of emotion. “The entire art world’s been waiting for you! Demi, being a corporate secretary is a waste of your gift. You were born to hold a brush—you’re the greatest painter of our time, the last jewel of the Impressionists. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I’m sorry, Phoebe. I’m so sorry.”
Standing on the busy street, Demi crouched down and sobbed.
She should’ve never forgotten who she was. She used to be so proud.
Born gifted, brilliant, and proud—Nevin never even knew that Demi had studied fine arts overseas.
Her graduation piece had been selected for the Janbus International Art Exhibition, shocking the art world.
After that, her paintings sold for seven-figure prices at auction.
And yet, she’d walked away from all of it. For the sake of living experience, she had taken a regular office job, learned administration, finance, and management and still excelled.
After ten long years away from her canvas, she decided she was done hiding. She was going home—to art, to herself.