Ex-Husband's Regret

Chapter 0368 Prologue. Gabe.

| sit in my office, my mind reeling. Worry for my brother consumes me day and night. It’s been a couple of months since everything went south with Emma and since he informed us that he married Ava because he’d gotten her pregnant.

Since then, since he lost Emma, he hasn’t been the same. It’s like something inside him broke. Like he was only half living. Travis told me that Emma wasn’t doing any better, but as much as | treasure her, she wasn’t my main concern. My loyalties will always lie with Rowan, no matter what he did.

| pull my drawer open and retrieve a packet of cigarettes. Lighting one up, | drag it in, feeling myself calm down just a little bit. | know it’s a bad habit, but I just can’t stop. Not when it’s the only thing apart from sex that is able to make me relax.

Standing up from my chair, | eye my office. | was interning at our family’s company. It’s been there for generations and has always been run by the men in our family. We aren’t sexists or anything like that; it’s just that there haven't been any females born in generations. For some reason, the men in our family only produce males. Once, there was hope when my mom got pregnant after Rowan and me, but she miscarried at five months. The baby had been a girl.

My door opens, but | don’t turn around. I’ve fucked her enough times to immediately recognize her perfume. “Gabe, there’s a man here to see you.”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

Even when she’s delivering such mundane news, her voice is sultry and sexy. Apart from her looks and sex appeal, it was the other thing that attracted me to her. Her voice alone can make you fantasize about how she sounds when you're buried deep inside her.

“Does he have an appointment?” | asked, finally turning around.

Damn, her curves never cease to distract me. It isn’t once or twice I’ve called her in for a quickie. She’s the distraction | need when my brain can’t stop thinking and worrying about Rowan.

“No, but he said it’s urgent and that he has something important to tell you.” “Okay, let him in.’

She leaves and seconds later she ushers a man in. He has dark hair slicked back, sharp, cunning green eyes, and he’s leaning against a cane.

I stare at him; he looks to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Tool young to be needing a cane to walk, but then again, there are people in our social status that use it as a prop.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” | ask, not beating around the bush. The more | look at him, the more familiar he looks. | just don’t know where I’ve seen him before. “I'm Andrew Beckett; I’m sure you’ve heard of me,” he replies smoothly, before crossing the room and then sitting down.

I smirk. Impressed with his confidence. Not many people have that when they’re dealing with me. Though, the moment his name hits my ears, the smirk disappears,

The Beckett family was once prominent. You can even say they rivaled ours. About fifteen years ago, though, the CEO at that time, Andrew's grandfather, died and left his legacy to his son-in-law. It’s said that he wanted to leave it to his only child, Andrews’s mother, but she begged him to leave the position to her husband because he’d worked there since they married and has always desired to lead the company.

It turns out that that was the single worst decision he ever made. My dad always said that Andrew's dad wasn’t made to be a leader. That he wasn’t meant to be CEO, and that’s why the company began failing. By the time Andrew was old enough to take over the company, it was beyond help. The Beckett’s legacy finally went down about five years ago, and they lost their social standing.

“How can | help you, Andrew? If it's a merger or some shit you want, let me just inform you that I’m not in the position to help you,” | tell him, lying my facts down.