It Doesn’t Matter Anymore novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

After being rescued from the debris flow, Allison Nosciter, Colonel Greyson Debeaux’s wife, seemed like an entirely different person.

In the past, she would always have a bottle of Gatorade and a fresh towel ready when Greyson returned from his morning run. If he worked late, she left a lamp on in the living room and stayed awake until she heard his Jeep pull into the driveway.

Now, she no longer prepared anything for him or asked where he had been. Even when she saw Greyson holding Sylvia Hagger by the flower bed in the residential compound, she did not rush over to question him as she once would have. There were no tears, no accusations. She simply turned away, calm and indifferent, and walked off to buy groceries.

“Allison!”

Greyson’s deep voice, threaded with uncharacteristic anxiety, sounded behind her.

She paused but did not turn around.

The heavy thud of military boots approached. Greyson strode past her and stopped directly in front of her, cutting off her path.

The usually stern and composed colonel looked faintly unsettled as he hurried to explain. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Sylvia lost her balance because of low blood sugar. I just caught her so she wouldn’t fall. It was nothing more than a coincidence.”

Allison lifted her eyes to him.

Even in casual clothes, he stood tall and straight. His sharp features and piercing gaze made him known throughout the compound for his uncompromising toughness. She had once been obsessed with that look-so obsessed that she had lost herself in him..

But now, she only found him irritating.

She pulled her wrist from his grip, her voice as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. “There’s no need to explain. Even if you were kissing her, it wouldn’t matter.”

Greyson froze, his brows knitting together. “What are you talking about? What do you mean it wouldn’t matter if I kissed her?”

He searched Allison’s face, desperate to find even a flicker of anger or a spark of jealousy.

But there was nothing.

Her eyes were as still as water.

“Are you still blaming me?” Greyson lowered his voice, his tone carrying the authority of a man used to giving orders, though it now held a flicker of guilt.

“I told you, it was urgent. Sylvia has severe depression and can’t handle that kind of stress. Besides, she can’t swim… Given the circumstances, I had to save her first. As my wife, you should be able to understand that.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Allison interrupted. “I truly don’t care. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

She looked at him, her lips curving into a faint, cold smile. “You always tell me that Sylvia is the widow of your fallen comrade-that she’s alone and helpless, and you have a responsibility to look after her. You told me not to be jealous over nothing.

“When she had an episode in the middle of the night, you took her to the hospital in our car and left me stranded in a downpour. When she took a liking to my necklace, you asked me to give it to her as a birthday gift. Now that I’ve stopped making a fuss, just like you wanted. Aren’t you happy?”

Greyson was left speechless, his throat tightening as a sudden, inexplicable irritability flared within him.

Yes, he had once hated Allison’s jealousy toward Sylvia, thinking it unreasonable. But seeing her push him away with such cold detachment now made his heart pound with sudden panic.

“Allison, can we just put this behind us? Once Sylvia’s condition stabilizes, I’ll make it up to you-”

Before he could finish, a black Audi pulled up to the curb-the car Greyson had arranged to take Allison to her follow-up appointment at the hospital.

Her own vehicle was still being repaired.

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