Aria Ryan Blake NovelThe Ghost of Your Regret

My entire family forced me to divorce because the girl they raised as their own fell in love with my husband.

Six years later, I ran into my brother and ex-husband at the park.

My ex-husband was holding my seven-year-old daughter, and he asked me:

Now that you're back in the country, why didn't you reach out?

I looked at him, cold as ice:

"Want to buy a painting? Twenty dollars a piece."

My brother Blake came over and kicked my easel, sending it flying:

"Stop acting innocent! Felicia already forgave you for causing her miscarriage. Now she's been outed as a homewrecker, and it'll mess with her chances for the award. Come back with us and clear her name, and I'll let you come home."

I sneered:

"Home? That stopped being my home a long time ago."

My ex-husband, Ryan, pointed to the daughter in his arms and said:

"Are you really going to abandon your own daughter?"

Before I could answer, Lily spoke up, her voice dripping with disgust:

"I don't want this mommy! Her hands are so creepy!"

Ryan's gaze lingered on my scarred wrists.

He took a step closer, as if to reach out and touch me.

"Enough, Aria, stop with the drama. You used to adore kids."

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

Lily didn't even recognize me anymore.

My brother, Blake, frowned, kicking over my change box. His voice was laced with impatience.

"Why are you even talking to her? Just drag her away."

"If we weren't worried about the PR nightmare affecting Felicia's award chances, who'd want to come to this dump?"

Blake's arrogance, the kind only old money breeds, was seeping from him.

I bent down to pick up the change box that had rolled into the mud, my voice calm and steady.

"I'm not going back."

At that, Blake exploded like a lit fuse, and it tore through me.

"Aria, don't you dare push your luck. Are you shacked up with some guy here? Can't bear to leave him?"

Hearing that, Ryan's previously mild expression darkened instantly.

He seemed to agree with Blake.

He grabbed my wrist with one hand and started dragging me out of the park.

A sharp, throbbing pain shot through my wrist.

The change box clattered to the ground, ten and fifty-dollar bills scattering across the dirt.

"Ryan, let go of me! I'm not going back with you!"

He ignored me completely.

Blake strode forward, stepping on the bills on the ground, grinding them into the mud.

"Meow!"

An orange blur darted out from the bushes.

It lashed out with sharp claws, scratching Ryan's arm.

Seizing the chance, I managed to break free.

But as I turned, Blake kicked me in the knee.

With a soft thump, I fell to my knees.

Here I was, knocked down by Blake.

There, the little cat was sent flying several feet away.

I scrambled to get up, large tears splashing onto the ground.

"Little One!"

I took one step, but Ryan and Blake caught me together.

They dragged me forward.

My struggles were useless.

My stray cat lay in a pool of blood.

The money I'd saved for a burial plot lay in the mud.

Just like I had six years ago.



I was hauled into that familiar SUV, my daughter Lily strapped into her car seat.

The moment they tossed me into the back seat, she started wailing.

"Daddy, I don't want to sit with this ugly stranger! She smells awful!"

Ryan glanced at me in the rearview mirror, then put on a show of sternly scolding Lily.

"Lily, that's not polite. This is your mommy."

Lily scrunched up her nose and sniffed.

She mumbled under her breath:

"She's not my mommy. Only Aunt Felicia deserves to be my mommy."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone in the car.

Blake snorted at me with disdain.

Ryan's hands tightened on the steering wheel. He offered an explanation.

"Lily's just not used to you, but she'll get used to it."

I turned my head to stare out the window, my voice flat.

"It's fine. I was never her mother, wasn't that what you said yourself?"

Six years ago, in this very car.

When Lily was barely a year old, Ryan himself had said to me:

"Aria, do you think you're fit to be a mother in your current state?"

"Lily is just a child, what does she understand? If she wants to call Felicia 'mommy,' let her. Do you really need to cause a scene in front of her?"

Ryan's furious expression flashed in my mind.

We drove back to the house in silence.

The home I had once meticulously decorated was now unrecognizable.

The rose bushes Id planted in the garden were gone, replaced by endless roses.

The swing under the tree was gone, and even the tree itself had been cut down.

Everything had changed beyond recognition.

My gaze swept over everything with cold indifference before I lowered my eyes.

I followed them inside.

Ryan opened the door to a room tucked away in a corner. It was covered in dust, with cobwebs in the corners.

He coughed, covering his nose, and waved away the dust in front of him.

"Your old room was turned into Felicia's music room. You'll have to make do here for a while."

"Once things settle down"

I cut him off before he could finish.

"No need. This is fine."

My final resting place would soon be a handful of ashes.

The quality of the room made no difference to me.

Blake couldn't stand my indifferent attitude, as if we were all bullies.

He rolled his eyes at me and scoffed.

"Ryan, if she wants to stay here, let her. All these years, she still hasn't gotten rid of that overly dramatic habit."

Ryan sighed, but didn't contradict him.