Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 55: Chapter 55
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 55: Chapter 55. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
"President Whitmore, you don't owe me an explanation. Your fiancée is upset, you can't go against your grandfather, so you came to vent at me—I understand."
Victor's face darkened. "You think I'm taking it out on you for her sake?!"
Elena wrenched free. "Your grandfather isn't here, and no one's forcing you to perform in front of me. Feel free to stay away."
"Elena Bennett, don't push your luck!"
"I'm hungry and want something to eat. If your fiancée misunderstands, I'll be the one who suffers—so please stop following me."
Victor watched her decisive retreat, grinding his teeth.
She was clearly jealous; she might be quieter and more cautious now, but that stubborn streak had never changed. He knew Elena too well—she broke the engagement to make his life difficult because, deep down, she didn't want him marrying Annabelle at all.
The banquet hall was piled high with pastries. Elena selected a few and sat off to one side, but she had barely settled when Annabelle arrived arm-in-arm with Adaline.
Without preamble, Adaline launched into reproach. "Elena, you've been with Victor all evening. Have you given any thought to your sister's feelings?"
Elena rose. "So in your eyes, I'm the one approaching President Whitmore?"
She had never once sought Victor out of her own accord.
Adaline drew a long breath. "Even if you didn't approach him, you should still keep your distance. Remember—you are no longer Victor's fiancée."
Elena lowered her lashes and smiled. "Sorry, Mom. Maybe I should just leave—otherwise we're bound to cross paths again."
"You—" Adaline frowned, her gaze cold as ice.
Annabelle bit her lip. "Sis, what do you mean? You know how much Grandpa Whitmore values you. If you walk away, won't he think we drove you out?"
Annabelle drawled, "Since that's how you feel, Sister, try not to fall apart so easily—unless, of course, you don't believe President Whitmore really loves you."
Adaline snapped, "That's enough! Just stay away from Victor."
Elena sank onto the sofa, bone-tired. She stared at the cake on her plate, but all appetite had vanished. She forced down a couple of rushed bites, tasting nothing while a painful tightness coiled around her throat.
Deciding she'd had enough, Elena headed upstairs and turned in early.
She had only just stretched out on the bed when a knock sounded. Opening the door, she found Victor Whitmore outside, a porcelain mug cradled in his hands.
Annoyance flickered across her face; she moved to slam the door shut. Victor's temper flared the instant he sensed it, and his palm thudded against the panel, forcing it back open.
Victor demanded, "Elena Bennett, what's that supposed to mean—am I such an eyesore?" Forcing his way in, he set the cup on her nightstand with a bang. "Sir Whitmore told me to bring you this tonic for your stomach. You think I want to be here?"
Elena drew a steady breath. "Please thank Grandpa for me. You may go now, President Whitmore."
Victor's brow twitched; he ground out, "Drink it."
Eager to be rid of him, Elena tipped back the mug in one gulp, then all but ushered him toward the door.
Victor strode out, yanking at the handle—only to find the door locked tight.
Victor's face darkened. "You think I'm taking it out on you for her sake?!"
Elena wrenched free. "Your grandfather isn't here, and no one's forcing you to perform in front of me. Feel free to stay away."
"Elena Bennett, don't push your luck!"
"I'm hungry and want something to eat. If your fiancée misunderstands, I'll be the one who suffers—so please stop following me."
Victor watched her decisive retreat, grinding his teeth.
She was clearly jealous; she might be quieter and more cautious now, but that stubborn streak had never changed. He knew Elena too well—she broke the engagement to make his life difficult because, deep down, she didn't want him marrying Annabelle at all.
The banquet hall was piled high with pastries. Elena selected a few and sat off to one side, but she had barely settled when Annabelle arrived arm-in-arm with Adaline.
Without preamble, Adaline launched into reproach. "Elena, you've been with Victor all evening. Have you given any thought to your sister's feelings?"
Elena rose. "So in your eyes, I'm the one approaching President Whitmore?"
She had never once sought Victor out of her own accord.
Adaline drew a long breath. "Even if you didn't approach him, you should still keep your distance. Remember—you are no longer Victor's fiancée."
Elena lowered her lashes and smiled. "Sorry, Mom. Maybe I should just leave—otherwise we're bound to cross paths again."
"You—" Adaline frowned, her gaze cold as ice.
Annabelle bit her lip. "Sis, what do you mean? You know how much Grandpa Whitmore values you. If you walk away, won't he think we drove you out?"
Annabelle drawled, "Since that's how you feel, Sister, try not to fall apart so easily—unless, of course, you don't believe President Whitmore really loves you."
Adaline snapped, "That's enough! Just stay away from Victor."
Elena sank onto the sofa, bone-tired. She stared at the cake on her plate, but all appetite had vanished. She forced down a couple of rushed bites, tasting nothing while a painful tightness coiled around her throat.
Deciding she'd had enough, Elena headed upstairs and turned in early.
She had only just stretched out on the bed when a knock sounded. Opening the door, she found Victor Whitmore outside, a porcelain mug cradled in his hands.
Annoyance flickered across her face; she moved to slam the door shut. Victor's temper flared the instant he sensed it, and his palm thudded against the panel, forcing it back open.
Victor demanded, "Elena Bennett, what's that supposed to mean—am I such an eyesore?" Forcing his way in, he set the cup on her nightstand with a bang. "Sir Whitmore told me to bring you this tonic for your stomach. You think I want to be here?"
Elena drew a steady breath. "Please thank Grandpa for me. You may go now, President Whitmore."
Victor's brow twitched; he ground out, "Drink it."
Eager to be rid of him, Elena tipped back the mug in one gulp, then all but ushered him toward the door.
Victor strode out, yanking at the handle—only to find the door locked tight.
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 55. Continue reading Chapter 56 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.