A Divorce He Regrets

Chapter 230:

I banged my head against the cold wall, shaking with pent-up anger. How could I have been so blind? So stupidly idiotic? Faith’s face was in my head now—how she’d been in pain and tired, and that blank look in her eyes. The memory twisted my gut.noveldrama

Anthony’s voice cut through the silence. “Dom, you good, man? You’re freaking me out.”

I turned, taking a deep breath, trying to shake off the storm brewing inside. “I want to see the witnesses now,” I said firmly, my voice low and deliberate. “Every second wasted is another second Faith spends in this mess.”

Anthony nodded, hearing the urgency in my tone. He didn’t argue, didn’t waste time. “I’ve got them secured at the safe house. I’ll take you there now.”

“Good,” I snapped before turning to Alex. “I need every piece of surveillance footage from this house. Bedrooms, hallways, wherever. I want every damn second.”

Alex smirked, his expression a mix of satisfaction and determination. “Gladly. It’s about time we handled this.”

He didn’t need to know why I’d been so adamant about upping the surveillance the day Eliza showed up. Call it instinct or paranoia, but I’d known she would stir up trouble. What I hadn’t predicted was how adept she’d been at twisting everything around so that Faith bore the brunt of it. This was my burden to bear, my problem to navigate—not hers.

My pessimism didn’t mean I had no plan. Eliza had no idea who she was dealing with.

Anthony drove in silence, his knuckles white where his hands gripped the wheel. I stared out the window as the weight of everything bore down on me, like a boulder.

Crushing me. My wife, my Faith, sat in a jail cell because I was stupid. I clenched my fists, feeling the anger boil beneath my skin.

“Alright, Dom,” Anthony finally said, looking over at me as we pulled into the driveway of the safe house. “What the hell is going on? Start talking. If I’m going to help, I need to know everything.”

I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling the exhaustion and frustration bleed into my voice. “Eliza framed me. That night I asked for the surveillance footage, she fucking set the whole damn thing up. I don’t know how she pulled it off, but she drugged me and made it look like I slept with her.” I paused, tensing my jaw. “Now the crazy bitch is saying she’s carrying my kid. But it’s all a lie.”

𝑶𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕: ⲅⲁⳑ⧈𝗇𝗈⧈ν𝖊⧈𝗅𝘀⧈ⅽ⧈𝗈𝗆

Anthony whistled low, shaking his head. “That’s… messed up, serious. But you know what? If there’s even the slightest chance those girls have proof, we’re going to use it to destroy her.”

The determination in his voice gave me a sliver of hope. For once, something was going my way.

When we arrived at the safe house, I followed Anthony into the humble apartment. Two girls sat inside, eyes wide, turning from me to Anthony and back. One of the girls—little, dark, with ringlets—twitched in her chair. The other girl gripped her phone so tightly it was a wonder her knuckles didn’t crack, though her fingers did tremble just noticeably.

“Why do they look like they’re about to take off running?” I whispered to Anthony.

“Maybe it’s how my guys brought them in,” Anthony shot back, frustrated too. “But we have to calm them down before they freak out.”

I took a deep breath and moved forward, forcing the most soothing tone I could into my voice. “Relax, ladies. No one’s here to hurt you. We’re not the cops, and we’re definitely not here to kidnap anyone.”

The girl with the phone lifted her chin, clearly still wary. “Then why are we here?”

Anthony folded his arms. “Because you told one of my guys you had information about what happened that night at the bar. You said you found something on your phone.”

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