The CEO's Regret: Darling, Don’t Leave Me novel Chapter 8

Chapter 7: A New Beginning

Clara

I rang the doorbell, and the door opened almost immediately. It was Mariana, the housekeeper, who

appeared. Her expression shifted from routine to astonishment in a second.

“Miss Clara?” she said, placing a hand on her chest. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit…”

Visitor.

I smiled. A small, tired, sincere smile.

“I didn’t know either,” I replied. “May I come in?”

She stepped aside immediately.

“Of course, my dear. Welcome home.”

I went inside.

The interior greeted me with a warmth that disarmed me. The familiar furniture, the scent of polished wood. The tranquil silence that felt weightless, that demanded nothing.

I left

my

suitcase by the entrance and took a few more steps… Then I saw him.

My father was in the living room, reviewing some documents with his glasses perched on his nose. He looked up when he heard my footsteps… and froze.

“Clara,” he said, as if he wasn’t sure I was real.

“Hi, Dad.”

He stood up immediately. His surprise gave way to concern, which he didn’t try to hide.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t say you were coming, honey.”

I didn’t know what to say at that moment. Not with elaborate words. Not with long explanations.

I went over and hugged him.

And it was there, in that simple gesture, that I felt something inside me finally give way. I didn’t cry, but my body relaxed as it hadn’t in years.

“I just… needed to come back,” I said softly.

My father held me for a few seconds longer than usual. He didn’t ask anything. Not yet. And I thanked him

silently.

“This will always be your home,” he said finally. “No matter the reason.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

Chot L

As Mariana carried my suitcase away and the house resumed its quiet rhythm, I understood that this place wasn’t just a temporary refuge; it was the starting point.

The place where Clara Sinclair had learned who she was… and whère, perhaps, she would find herself

again.

I don’t remember when I started trembling. I was sitting across from my father, in the room I’d known

since childhood, and yet I still felt like I didn’t quite belong. As if I’d returned a different person. Or worse…

as if I’d returned empty.

“Clara…” my father said for the third time. “What’s wrong?”

I looked up at him. He was still the same resolute man, impeccable even at that hour of the night. The

patriarch of Ravenscroft. The man who always had answers for everything. Not this time.

Before I could say anything, we heard soft footsteps on the stairs.

“I was told Clara was here,” my mother said, her voice still heavy with sleep. “What’s going on?”

I saw her appear in her nightgown, her hair loose, without jewelry or social masks. My mother, not the perfect woman at charity events.

When her eyes fell on me, something changed in her expression.

“Clara…” she whispered. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

I didn’t answer right away. I felt everything I’d held back for years-not just days-start to push from within.

“I didn’t know how,” I finally said. “I didn’t even know if I should.”

My mother sat down beside me. My father didn’t take his eyes off me.

“Did something happen with Ethan?” he asked cautiously.

That name… So elegant, so proper, so empty.

I took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to get back together with him.”

The silence was immediate. Thick. Definite.

“Did you have a fight?” my mother asked, looking for a simple explanation. “All marriages…”

I shook my head.

I know this is the first time I’ve come here to talk about my marriage…

“It wasn’t an argument,” I said. “It was a realization.”

I swallowed. Tears began to fall, silent, without any drama.

“I lost myself,” I continued. “I lost myself for three years. I lived to fit in, to avoid making him

uncomfortable, to be the perfect wife to a man who never really saw me.”

My mother brought a hand to her mouth.

“But you two seemed so good…” she murmured. “The press, the events…”

“That’s all we were said. “Appearances.”

I looked at my father.

“Dad, I knew this marriage wasn’t a love story. I was never naive. I knew it was an alliance. A mutually

beneficial arrangement. I agreed.”

“No one forced you,” he said, almost defensively.

I wasn’t going to accuse him, I wasn’t forced…

“I know,” I nodded. “And I don’t blame you for that. But I wish someone had told me the whole truth. That they had warned me what it meant to live with a man who was never going to truly choose me.”

My voice broke.

“I liked Ethan. I really did. That’s why I thought it could work. I thought that with time… with patience…”

I laughed, humorlessly,

“But love doesn’t grow where there’s no attention. Where there’s no care.”

My mother put her arms around me. That’s when the tears overwhelmed me. They weren’t loud. They were deep. Ancient. As if my body were finally giving itself permission.

“I love him,” I confessed against her shoulder. “And that’s what hurts the most. But staying… staying was extinguishing me.”

I lifted my head and looked at both of them.

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