The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 260

260 Chapter 260 A Whisper Of Regret

260 Chapter 260 A Whisper Of

Regret

Zain’s POVO

My harsh words hit Kaden like a slap, and panic flashed across his face. “Zain, how was I supposed to know? I had no clue Vincent would protect that woman Blanche like she’s his whole world!”

I kept my expression cold and steady. “If even outsiders see how much she matters to him, what’s your excuse? She’s been your sister–in–law for five years. How could you arrange for someone to hurt her?”

Kaden froze, staring at me like I’d grown a second

head.

After what felt like forever, he let out a bitter laugh. “Are you serious right now? Who do you think I learned from? You never gave a shit about her. If you’d shown her even an ounce of care, Drew and I never would’ve treated her like dirt. You want to point

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fingers? Look in the mirror–you’re the real problem here.”

Each word hit me like a punch to the gut, sharp and unforgiving.

I took a long breath before responding. “At least I never physically hurt her.”

Kaden’s laugh turned cruel. “Oh, so you think that makes you a hero? Your coldness cut deeper than any fist. You’re the one who destroyed the Blanche who used to smile, who used to joke around, who just wanted to be part of our family.”

Rage flared in my chest. I turned to glare at him. “Get out. Go back to school.”

Kaden wasn’t backing down now. His eyes blazed as he shot back, “Blanche falling for you was the biggest

mistake of her life.”

He climbed out and slammed the door so hard the entire car rocked.

The sound made something inside me flinch, a cold shiver racing down my spine.

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Even though Kaden had royally pissed me off, I still pulled out my phone and called Desmond.

He picked up on the second ring. I cut straight to business. “I want eyes on Kaden and Vincent around the clock. The second Vincent makes a move, I want to

know. Don’t let him touch Kaden.”

“Understood, Mr. Jacob.”

After hanging up, I drove back to Blissfield Villa.

That night, sleep brought something I never expected -dreams of Blanche.

In all our years of marriage, she’d never once appeared in my dreams before.

In the dream, she was always smiling at me, radiating warmth, every text message overflowing with affection.

“Zain, do you like this color on me?”

“Zain, does this hair clip look pretty?”

“Zain, I saw the neighbor’s cat downstairs today. It was adorable–it even reached out its little paw to me!”

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“Zain, your bath is ready. You can go shower now.”

“Zain, do you want soup or pasta for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Zain, will you be home for dinner tonight?”

“Zain, could you spend a little more time with me? But if you’re too busy… forget it, it’s fine.”

“Zain, the baby kicked today. It’s like he hasn’t heard your voice in forever.”

“Zain, I think I’m in labor. Can you come home? I want you to be the first person to hold our baby.”

“Zain, I can’t handle this alone anymore. Can you come back and help me with Carry?”

“Zain, Carry said ‘daddy‘ for the first time today. Are you coming home?”

“Zain, Carry got her first tooth.”

“Zain, I’m exhausted. Please, can’t you just come home?”

But the dream wasn’t just her voice calling my name or her endless messages—I was reliving all the ways she’d

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cared for me, scene after scene of her gentle devotion.

She’d always rise before me, preparing breakfast, carefully pressing my suits and shirts, perfectly matching my ties and shoes, even organizing my briefcase for the day.

When I’d come home from work, she’d be waiting by the door with a smile, immediately taking my briefcase and saying, “Zain, you look tired. I made your favorite chicken soup–it’s ready. Let me get it for you.”

During my late nights working, she’d slip into my study with warm milk, whispering, “Don’t overwork yourself. You can finish this tomorrow, okay?”

After Carry was born, Blanche moved downstairs with the baby to avoid disturbing my work or sleep.

In our intimate moments, Blanche always prioritized my pleasure and comfort, terrified of leaving me unsatisfied in any way.

Afterward, she’d gently clean me with tissues, then curl into my arms and ask softly, “Did that feel good,

Zain?”

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Most times, I’d just light a cigarette and lean against the headboard, my mind elsewhere–on work, or

sometimes on Joanna.

I never answered her question.

Even when she’d be sore for days afterward, Blanche always put my needs first, never considering her own

comfort.

No matter how much pain she endured, she gave me everything, letting me experience every facet of who

she could be.

Reliving these moments in my dream felt like drowning–desperate to surface but completely

helpless.

I struggled for air, nearly choking on the crushing weight of guilt and regret.

Then I jolted awake.

The suffocating feeling gradually lifted.

But somehow, my chest felt strangely hollow–I couldn’t shake the emptiness.

Without thinking, I reached across the bed.

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Nothing but cold, empty space.

Blanche and I hadn’t shared a bed often, but suddenly the loneliness felt overwhelming.

Darkness filled the room. I stared into the void, the weight in my chest refusing to lift.

I shifted, and my phone screen briefly illuminated.

The heaviness was unbearable. Acting on pure impulse, I grabbed my phone and called Blanche without hesitation.

She answered after just two rings.

It was past two in the morning, yet she picked up so quickly.

I didn’t dwell on it. I lowered my voice and asked softly, “Are you awake?”

Blanche’s voice came through, cold and distant. “What do you want?”

She was completely different now–nothing like before when she’d pour her heart into everything for me. Now she was a stranger.

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I cleared my throat gently before speaking. “When are you coming back? Let’s have dinner together.”

Blanche didn’t hesitate to refuse. “No, thanks.”

Hearing that, I quickly interrupted, “Carry’s been asking for you–she wants you to take her to see the snow, says she really wants to play outside.”

Blanche seemed puzzled by my approach, but her response remained distant. “I have exams coming up. I

don’t have time to take her out.”

She was about to hang up when I heard Amara wake up from what sounded like another nightmare.

Amara’s voice was panicked: “No–don’t!”

I heard Blanche immediately respond, “Amara, are you okay?”

Knowing Blanche was with Amara brought me some relief.

But even then, I couldn’t bring myself to end the call, lingering as if hoping to hold onto her presence just a little longer.

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Hearing her voice slowly filled that hollow ache inside

1. me.

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Clutching the phone, I couldn’t stop myself–the words slipped out in a whisper: “Blanche, I… I miss you.”

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