Her Regret Came Too Late Chapter 04

Her Regret Came Too Late Chapter 04

Author: Vesper Shaw
Victoria’s assistant repeated the words. Slow. Careful. Like saying them softer would make them hurt less.
“Mr. Clark… he jumped off Dragon’s Peak.”

“No!” Victoria shook her head. Her voice came out automatic. A reflex. “That’s impossible. He’s just upset. He’s throwing a tantrum because I didn’t spend his birthday with him yesterday. Still, he wouldn’t kill himself over something like that.”

Her assistant explained, “The police called. The search team has been looking for three hours in the waters below the cliff. They only found his jacket.”

Victoria stood frozen in the doorway of our house. She pulled out her phone with shaking hands.

Dozens of missed calls. My name. My number. Starting from seven last night. Continuing all the way until midnight.

Every single one rejected.

Except one.

At 12:03 AM, a call had been answered. Forty-seven seconds.

The blood drained from her face.

Dillan had been in the hospital with a stomach problem. She had stayed with him all night. She got too tired and fell asleep in the chair next to his bed. Her phone had been on his bedside table.

She called Dillan immediately. Her voice was a scream barely held together.

“Dillan! Did you answer Lambert’s phone? Why didn’t you tell me? What did you say to him?”

Dillan’s voice came through the speaker, soft and wounded. “Victoria, you were so exhausted. I didn’t want anyone disturbing your rest. But he kept calling and calling. I was worried it might be an emergency, so I finally picked up. I told him you were at the hospital taking care of me. I told him not to misunderstand. I was just concerned about you—”

Victoria hung up before he finished.

Her fingers trembled. Her eyes turned red. But no tears came.

She ran out the door, got in the car and drove to Dragon’s Peak.

The wind was brutal at the top. Police radios crackled and beeped—loud, annoying sounds that filled the air like broken music.

An officer walked up to her. His face was serious. “Mrs. Clark, we found your husband’s phone and jacket near the cliff edge. Surveillance footage shows him jumping alone at approximately 12:20 AM. There are strong currents beneath these waters. The search is very difficult.”

“He wouldn’t jump,” Victoria whispered. Her voice was hoarse. “He is always so stable. So calm. Why would he just… jump?”

The officer asked, “Has he shown any emotional changes recently?”

Victoria opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

Because suddenly she remembered. The night before last, after Dillan’s celebration party. I had asked her why Dillan’s design looked exactly like his. She had brushed it off.

And last night—his birthday—he had called her so many times. Dozens of times.

She hadn’t answered. Not once.

She stood at the edge of the cliff. The wind whipped her coat like a flag.

Below her, the ocean stretched out—endless, gray, hungry. She stared at the water and tried not to imagine him standing here alone in the dark. Tried not to picture what he had been thinking. How hopeless he must have felt.

Her chest felt like someone had reached inside and ripped something out.

She couldn’t think. Her mind went blank.

Then her assistant hurried over and lowered her voice. “Mrs. Clark… you should check Mr. Clark’s Twitter. His latest post.”

Victoria fumbled for her phone. Her fingers couldn’t work right. She almost dropped it twice.

She opened Twitter.

The post was short and cold.

“Three years of marriage. Time to let go. See for yourselves what happened.”

Below it, a video link.

She tapped it, missed, then tapped again. Her whole hand was shaking.

The video opened. I sat at my old studio desk. Sunlight fell across my face—warm, golden, unreal. I was drawing. Gradually, the design for a bridge took shape. It was The Cloud Bridge. She remembered that drawing. I had shown it to her a year ago, so excited. A Christmas gift for her, I had said.

In the video, I looked up at the camera and smiled. My voice was gentle and peaceful.

“This design… it was meant to be a Christmas gift for Victoria. Thank you for staying by my side. I want to build this bridge for you. For real. I want to walk across it with you, hand in hand.”

That smile—it stabbed her right in the chest.

The video kept playing. I finished the last line, put down my brush, and sat in silence for a long, heavy moment.

Then I looked up again. My eyes were empty. But my voice was calm. Too calm.

“Since your love for me was never real… I don’t want it anymore. Goodbye, my love.”

The video ended.

Victoria’s knuckles turned white around the phone. Her breath came in short, jagged pieces.

Then the tears came.

She remembered the last look I had given her before she drove away yesterday. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t sadness.

It was nothing. Just… empty.

And she had been too worried about Dillan’s stomach to notice.

The wind carried the smell of salt. The ocean below kept crashing against the rocks. The same sound I must have heard in my final moment.

Victoria fell to her knees at the cliff edge. She opened her mouth and let out a sound—something between a scream and a sob. Raw. Broken.

But no one answered. I was gone.