Chapter 4 Chapter Four The Rant and The Regret
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.