My Husband Chose His Ex I Became His Regret novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Aidan

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I’m not prepared for the woman who walks through my door.

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For three months, I’ve studied Lila Stark. Reviewed surveillance photos. Analyzed her mannerisms. Watched footage of her trailing behind Mark Knight like a ghost. I know her measurements, her college transcripts, her favorite coffee order from the café she used to frequent. I know everything about her except what she looks like when she’s not trying to disappear.

Now I know.

And it’s a problem.

She stands in my doorway, navy suit that fits like a second skin, blonde hair catching the morning light, amber eyes that hold mine without flinching and I forget how to breathe.

Four weeks. I gave her four weeks with Simone, Patricia, Margot, and Isabella. Four weeks to transform from Mark Knight’s discarded wife into my weapon of choice.

But this isn’t just transformation. This is resurrection.

“Good morning, Mr. Storm.” Her voice is steady, professional. No tremor. No apology. “I believe we have a 9 AM meeting?”

I realize I’m staring. Have been staring for Christ, how long? Ten seconds? Twenty? I’m Aidan Storm. I don’t stare. I assess, calculate, strategize. But right now, I’m just a man looking at a woman who’s stolen every coherent thought from my head.

She looks expensive. Polished. Like old money that doesn’t need to prove anything. But it’s not the clothes. It’s how she wears them.

Four weeks ago, she hunched. Curved inward. Made herself small. Now her spine is straight, shoulders back, chin level. She’s not taking up space, she’s owning it. The difference is everything.

“You look…” I stop myself. What I want to say is dangerous. Unprofessional. Wildly inappropriate given our

“I working relationship. “You look exactly like someone who’s about to destroy her enemies.”

A smile curves her lips. Slow. Knowing. The kind of smile that could bring empires to their knees.

“Good,” she says. “That’s exactly who I plan to be.”

Fuck.

I turn back to the windows, giving myself three seconds to regain control. This is business. She’s a means to an end. A weapon I’m sharpening to destroy Mark Knight and avenge my father’s ruined company. The fact that she’s beautiful is irrelevant. The fact that she’s standing in my office looking like every fantasy I’ve never let myself have is irrelevant.

I’m Aidan Storm. I built a billion-dollar company from the ashes of my family’s destruction. I don’t get

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Chapter 20

distracted by beautiful women, no matter how perfectly they fill out Italian wool.

Three seconds. That’s all I allow myself.

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I turn back around. She’s still standing by the door, bag clutched in her hands. Waiting for direction. But there’s something different in her posture now, not submissive, just professional. Respectful but not deferential.

“Sit,” I say, gesturing to the chairs across from my desk.

She walks forward. Those heels click on the hardwood, a sound that’s going to haunt me, I can already tell. She sits, crosses her legs at the ankle, places the portfolio on her lap. Perfect posture. Hands folded. Eyes attentive.

Simone taught her that. The way to sit in expensive clothes. How to look engaged without looking eager.

But there’s still work to do. I see it in the slight tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers press just a bit too hard into the leather of her portfolio. The almost imperceptible tightness around her eyes.

She’s nervous. Terrified, probably. Just hiding it better than before.

Good. Fear keeps you sharp.

I lean against my desk, arms crossed, studying her. She doesn’t fidget under my scrutiny. Another improvement. Four days ago, she would have started apologizing for existing.

“How are the sessions going?” I ask. “Patricia. Simone. Margot.”

“Good.” She pauses. “Intense. But good.”

“Define intense.”

She considers the question. I watch thoughts flicker across her face, she’s not as guarded as she thinks she is. Not yet.

“Patricia made me stand in front of a mirror for five minutes and just… observe. Not criticize. Just look at myself.” Her voice is steady but there’s vulnerability underneath. “It was harder than any business strategy session could ever be.”

“And Simone?”

“She told me I dress like someone who’s been hit. Emotionally or physically.” Lila’s jaw tightens slightly. “She was right.”

The admission costs her something. I can see it in the way she straightens her spine, lifts her chin. Defiant. Daring me to judge her for it.

I don’t. Because I know exactly what it’s like to be broken and have to rebuild from nothing.

“Mark Knight is an idiot,” I say flatly. “But his loss is my gain. How do you feel about the transformation so

far?”

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Chapter 20

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She touches her hair, unconscious gesture, quickly checked. “Strange. Like I’m wearing someone else’s face.”

“You’re not. You’re wearing your own face. You’ve just been hiding it for years.”

Her eyes meet mine. Hold. There’s something in them now, not just pain and rage, but determination. Steel wrapped in silk.

“I want to learn everything,” she says. “Everything you can teach me. Business strategy. Finance. Negotiation I want to be so good at this that when I walk into a room, people forget Mark Knight ever existed.”

The fire in her voice sends heat through my chest. This. This is what I saw in her that night at The Peninsula. This hunger. This fury waiting to be weaponized.

“You will,” I tell her. “But it’s going to be brutal. The team I’ve assembled to train you, they’re the best in the industry. They don’t coddle. They don’t accept excuses. You’re going to have days where you want to quit.”

“I won’t quit.”

“You say that now…”

“I won’t quit.” Her voice is harder now. “I have nowhere else to go. No backup plan. No safety net. This is it. So

I won’t quit. I’ll learn everything, do everything, become everything you need me to be.”

I study her. Looking for cracks. For doubt. For the moment when the bravado falls away and the scared woman from the Roosevelt Hotel reappears.

But she holds my gaze. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back down.

Christ, she’s magnificent.

The thought comes unbidden. Unwanted. Dangerous.

I push it away. Lock it in the same mental box where I keep every other inconvenient emotion. This is business. She’s an investment. A tool. The fact that she looks like sin in that suit is irrelevant.

“Good.” I push off the desk, walk around to my chair. Put the barrier of mahogany between us. “Here’s how this works. You have three primary objectives over the next four weeks.”

I pull up a presentation on my desktop monitor, turn it so she can see. A schedule. Color-coded. Detailed down to fifteen-minute increments.

“First: Business acumen. You’ll work with David, my CFO. He’ll teach you how to read financial statements, understand market analysis, identify opportunities and risks. You’ll learn how companies like Knight Group operate and more importantly, how they fail.”

She leans forward slightly, studying the schedule. I catch a hint of her perfume, something subtle, feminine and expensive. Not the drugstore body spray she wore previously.

Focus, Aidan.

“Second: Strategic thinking. You’ll shadow me for all major meetings and negotiations. Observe. Take notes.

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Chapter 20

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Afterward, we’ll debriet. I want to know what you noticed, what you would have done differently, what patterns you’re starting to recognize.”

“What if I don’t notice anything?” she asks. “What if I’m not…”

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“You will. You’re smarter than you think. Mark Knight spent three years convincing you otherwise, but I ve read your academic transcripts. UCLA with honors. Perfect score on your business ethics paper. Thesis on corporate social responsibility that your professor said was publishable. You have the foundation. We’re just building on it.”

She blinks. Once. Twice. “You read my thesis?”

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