Too Late For Regret, My Cheating Ex

Harper Clay POV:

"If your face wasn't a replica of hers, I wouldn't have even looked twice at you. Now that Megan is back, let's get a divorce."

On my tenth wedding anniversary, I smashed a meticulously baked cake right into my husband's face.

Because just seconds ago, I kicked open our bedroom door to find my newly returned sister writhing beneath him. Draped over her bare shoulders was his prized #99 championship jersey—the one he swore no one else was ever allowed to touch.

My fourteen years of devotion and ten years of meticulous care were nothing but a sick, calculated joke. I was just a cheap knockoff. My sister leaned into his embrace, smiling innocently yet ruthlessly: "Thanks for keeping his bed warm for me all these years, sis. Now that the real owner is back, be smart and step down."

Devastated, I called my mother for help, only to be met with an even colder betrayal from my own flesh and blood: "Your brother's company survives on his investments! Now that Megan is back, just pretend nothing happened and hand your husband back to her!"

They all thought I was just a pathetic, useless housewife who would starve to death without his wealth. What they didn't know was that for the past decade, I was the absolute only cure keeping this violent, OCD-ridden "Ice Tyrant" from completely falling apart.

I didn't shed a single tear. Instead, I used his highly classified medical secrets to extort twenty million dollars, signed the divorce papers without hesitation, and walked away to become the Chief Private Consultant for Chicago's most powerful old-money family.

Just a week later, the arrogant superstar who thought he didn't need me suffered a severe, unmedicated breakdown. He fell to his knees outside the gates of my new estate in the middle of the night, sobbing and begging like a mad dog for me to come back.

Standing on my balcony with a glass of red wine, I looked down at him: "Sorry, Captain. I never pick up the trash I've already thrown away."

——

"Sterling... God, right there..." An extremely seductive, sickeningly sweet moan exploded from the phone receiver. In an instant, it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

"Megs..." Sterling's husky, sweat-drenched panting came through the receiver. "I love you..."

Listening to the sounds from the phone, my brain instantly short-circuited, a sharp and agonizing ringing piercing my ears. My hands trembled violently, and the piping bag slipped, ruining the most perfect buttercream rose on the ten-year anniversary cake I had spent five hours meticulously crafting.

Sterling. My husband of ten years. The man who, just this morning, had kissed my forehead and whispered in my ear that I was the only light in his chaotic world. Right now, he was pinning down my own younger sister, Megan, who had just returned from Europe last month?!

"Harper, your skills are absolutely unreal!" A girl in the baking class sighed with stars in her eyes, completely oblivious to what was happening. "You and Sterling are the ultimate NHL fairy tale. He's the star captain of the Chicago Blades, but he spoils you like a queen. I still remember the year he won the Stanley Cup, he pushed past all the reporters and their cameras just to rush to the stands and kiss you..."

The wet, sticky sounds of bodies slapping together echoed from the phone, completely drowning out the girl's praises.

Fairy tale? A violent wave of nausea hit me, and my stomach cramped severely.

I abruptly ended the call. Ignoring the shocked gasps of everyone around me, I grabbed the heavy cake box and stumbled out the door.

My SUV tore through the gates of the villa like a wild beast. I didn't even kill the engine.

On the second floor, the heavy walnut door to the master bedroom was slightly ajar.

"My sister's lace lingerie... how does it look on me?" Megan's voice was lazy, dripping with mockery.

"It looks beautiful. I bought it in your size to begin with. How could that dead fish of a woman deserve to wear it?" Sterling replied, his tone laced with a dark, indulgent intimacy.

Every word was like a serrated blade, viciously sawing open my chest. This was the same man who once held me tightly and told me that my gentle nature was the only cure for his severe pre-game anxiety. Now, he was tenderly holding my own sister in his arms.

I kicked the door open.

The heavy stench of sex, mixed with Megan's cheap vanilla perfume, smashed into my face like a heavy punch. The bedroom that was supposed to belong to Sterling and me now looked like a war zone.

Megan sat up leisurely amidst the tangled sheets. Draped loosely over her naked body was Sterling's prized #99 away-game championship jersey.

My vision blurred. Sterling had extremely severe germaphobia and OCD. He never allowed me to touch his most important jersey; once, just because I accidentally brushed against it, he gave me the silent treatment for half a year.

But now, his "life" was clinging tightly to my sister's sweaty skin like a cheap trophy.

When Megan clearly saw my ghost-white, utterly shattered face, there wasn't a single trace of panic on hers. She simply flashed me a triumphant, pitying sneer.

"Megan. Give me an explanation." My voice cracked hoarsely, sounding like a dying beast.

Megan glanced at the heavy cake in my hands and sighed, "Oh, dear sister... I'm sorry, okay? Ten years ago, I had to leave Sterling to pursue my figure skating career abroad. Thanks so much for warming his bed and taking care of him while I was gone." She tilted her head, her eyes flashing with undisguised malice. "But I'm back now. Give him back to me, won't you?"

My stomach churned violently. I shifted my gaze to Sterling. "Do you have nothing to say?"

Sterling calmly crushed out his cigarette. Those eyes—which used to turn red with heartache if I so much as nicked my finger chopping vegetables—were now looking at me with an extremely cold, calculating, and detached gaze.

"Harper, we're all adults here." He stood up, leisurely pulling on his sweatpants. "I gave you ten years of ultimate devotion. I bought you everything you cast a second glance at, gave you a life that women all over the world envy. But the truth is, the only one I've ever loved is Megan. If you weren't her biological sister, if you didn't have traces of her in you, I wouldn't have even looked twice at you." He stated it as matter-of-factly as if he were changing a diet plan. "Now that Megan is back, let's get a divorce."

The last string of my sanity instantly snapped.

For him, I cut off all my social circles, endured countless lonely nights when he was playing away games, and wasted the most precious ten years of a woman's youth entirely on cooking his meals and maintaining this so-called perfect home.

But now he's telling me that I was nothing but a stand-in for my own sister? All his tenderness and devotion over the past ten years were a complete lie! Every time he looked at me with those deep, affectionate eyes, he was looking right through my face, thinking only of... Megan!

I took a step forward, raised that heavy, exquisite cake, and with every ounce of my strength, smashed it viciously right into Sterling's arrogant face!

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Sterling roared, dark chocolate and buttercream ruining his perfectly styled hair and eyes.

"Harper, you psycho!" Megan shrieked, lunging forward with her claws out to push me.

Before she could even touch me, I violently raised my hand, pouring ten years of suppression and rage into this single slap. SMACK! The crisp sound of the slap echoed like a gunshot. Megan fell heavily back onto the mattress, a blood-red handprint instantly blooming on her pale cheek.

"Want a divorce? I couldn't ask for anything more." I looked down at them from above, my eyes like I was looking at trash in a sewer. "But don't use your filthy mouths to say my name. It makes me sick."