Gabriel's POV
"Babe, what about the bags and money you promised me?"
Every morning, without fail. Her voice was like an alarm I couldn't turn off, and I was starting to feel like I was trapped in a nightmare. Emmanuella was obsessed with material things, and I could barely stomach it anymore. How did I not see this before I married her? Worse, how could I have left my loyal wife, Rebecca, for someone like her?
It's only been a month since the wedding, and I already knew I had traded a diamond for a stone. Sure, Emmanuella was beautiful-no one could deny that-but beauty fades. The reality? It's hitting me harder than I expected. I was a fool. A complete fool.
During one of my interviews after the divorce, someone asked me why I left Rebecca. Back then, I said she wasn't as flashy as Emmanuella, that I needed someone who could boost my company's image. What a shallow thing to say. If I had just asked Rebecca to dress differently, to be more in line with what I thought I wanted, she would've done it without hesitation. Because that's who she was-loyal, loving, always trying to please me.
But instead, I chased after someone whose only goal was extravagance. In just one month, I've bought Emmanuella 366 bags, 400 shoes, and 30 wigs. Honestly, I lost count of the dresses. It sounds ridiculous, but this is my reality now. Every day, it's the same: "Babe, what about the bags and cash you promised?"
I'm done. Absolutely done. I've learned my lesson the hard way. I want back what I threw away. Rebecca was everything-modest, understanding, and the best cook I'd ever known. Emmanuella couldn't even make toast without burning it.
I can't believe I threw away someone who loved me that much... and I even tried to kill her. Yes, that night when I hit Rebecca with my car, crashing into the streetlight, trying to silence her. What was I thinking? Was I that desperate? The memory churned my stomach. The guilt was a heavy blanket that suffocated me daily.
I opened my laptop, my hands trembling as I searched for any trace of Rebecca online. I needed to know if she was okay. Did she make it? Was she even still alive? My heart raced as I typed her name into Facebook, hoping-praying-for a sign.
Her last post hit me like a punch to the gut. It was about me. About how she had planned to surprise me on my birthday with a gift at the office. She never got to give it to me. My chest tightened as I stared at the screen. Rebecca had always been so thoughtful. Always giving, even when I didn't deserve it. Emmanuella, on the other hand? I could buy her a whole mall, and she wouldn't even think to get me a pair of socks.
I moved to her Instagram profile, scrolling, desperate for updates. But her last post was the same as Facebook. My panic grew. I needed to know if she was okay. If she made it. Then it hit me-Natasha, her best friend. If anyone knew where Rebecca was or how she was doing, it would be her.
I searched for Natasha's profile, and my heart sank as soon as I saw it. A picture of Rebecca lying unconscious in a hospital bed, hooked up to drips. The caption read, "Pray for us. It's really bad."
My chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. The guilt was overwhelming. I wanted to scream, to punch something, to take a gun and end it all. How had I let things get this far? I was the reason she was there, and I couldn't undo what I'd done.
But I couldn't let it end this way. Not without trying to make things right. I had to see her. I had to ask for her forgiveness.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Natasha's number, my hands shaking. It rang once... twice... then cut off. I called again. Still nothing. The message kept repeating, "Number busy." Over and over.
She had blocked me.
Natasha had always been kind and supportive, always there for Rebecca and me. I couldn't blame her for blocking my number now. After everything I had done, I deserved it. But I needed to know-was Rebecca okay? Was she even conscious?
Frustrated, I scrolled through Natasha's posts, searching for clues. There was no location tagged in the hospital photo. Nothing that told me where Rebecca was.
Just as I was about to give up, my Instagram feed refreshed, and a new post appeared on my screen. The headline hit me like a truck.
Rebecca is the new president of Valentine's Conglomerate?
I stared at the screen in shock, my mind reeling. Valentine's Conglomerate was one of the biggest companies in Mandena, one I had always admired. And now Rebecca, my ex-wife, was their president?
My heart ached. It felt like it was being ripped apart. How could this be? Was Rebecca an heir to the conglomerate all along, and I had no idea? Or had she risen to this position out of sheer resilience?
The questions swirled in my mind, but one thing was clear-I had underestimated Rebecca. I had taken her for granted, assuming I could walk away and be fine. Now, more than ever, I wanted her back. But after all I had done... Was there even a chance?
As I scrolled through more posts about her new role, I felt a mixture of pride and regret. She had always been capable, always had that spark. It was infuriating to realize that I hadn't appreciated her enough when I had the chance. My heart raced at the thought of reaching out, of begging her for another opportunity.
But would she even consider it? After the pain I caused?
With my heart in my throat, I steeled myself. I couldn't just sit here in regret. I had to find a way to make things right, to prove to her that I was still the man she once loved.
