I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 04

I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 04

When Ava opened her eyes, she was in the estate’s master bedroom. The air smelled of cedar and old books, not disinfectant.

Everything was exactly as it had been before she learned the truth.

Clayton sat beside the bed, his eyes bloodshot. The collar of his expensive shirt was wrinkled, and he was clumsily changing the dressing on her leg.

It was the first time Clayton Montgomery had ever lowered his proud head to perform such a menial task for her.

Sensing her gaze, his fingers paused. After he finished, he carefully placed her leg back under the soft covers.

The room was deathly still.

“I looked into what happened,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “The children lost their heads. They pushed you by mistake.”

He paused. “The school counselor called. He asked if the children have been emotionally unstable. I talked with him. He suggested we find a family therapist.”

Ava looked at the elaborate carving on the ceiling. For the first time, a rational voice had entered this house.

“I’m sorry,” Clayton said, the words clearly difficult for him. “You suffered.”

It was the first time she had heard those two words from him.

But it was too late.

A shattered heart couldn’t be mended with one belated apology. She would not relive the agony of dying alone in a hospital bed.

“I’m tired. I want to rest.”

Her icy tone made Clayton flinch. This strange frustration, this inability to stir any emotion in her, left him at a loss.

After a moment of silence, he stood. “Rest well.”

He left, as if staying one more second would mean being swallowed by her coldness.

The room fell quiet again.

Ava ignored him. She ignored the children’s quiet sobs outside the door. She simply ate, rested, and healed.

That evening, she was leaning against the headboard, reading an old journal about yeast strains.

The door was shoved open.

Savannah rushed in, furious. “Ava! What did you say to Clayton? Why did he tell me not to come to the estate for a while?”

Ava didn’t even lift her eyes from the page. “Get out.”

What Savannah hated most was this calm, unyielding composure, as if all her schemes were nothing more than a childish game.

“Don’t think pretending to be pitiful will make Clayton come back to you!”

Ava finally put down the journal and looked at her.

“And you?” she asked calmly. “Does stealing someone else’s husband and children make you feel superior?”

Savannah’s face stiffened, but she quickly recovered, her smile triumphant.

“If I hadn’t stepped aside, do you really think you could have married into the Montgomery family?”

She walked to the bedside and looked down at Ava, her voice full of cruel pride.

“I’ll tell you the truth. Clayton only married you because I didn’t want to be tied down by the craft of distilling, and I certainly didn’t want a pregnancy to ruin my figure.”

Savannah’s smile was vicious.

“That’s why he chose you. A woman from California with no connections and nothing but technical skill. You’re easy to control, obedient, and you could give him a steady stream of formulas. You were nothing but a creative surrogate Clayton found when I didn’t want the responsibility.”

Ava stared at the label designs on her desk, sketches she had drawn with her own hands.

So the root of all her suffering, across two lifetimes, was this absurd.

Because Savannah didn’t want to suffer, Ava had been chosen to bear it all for her.

In that moment, the last ridiculous shred of attachment she had to this marriage vanished.

Savannah stared at Ava, waiting for her to collapse, to cry, to go mad. But Ava remained calm, so calm it was unnerving.

A vicious glint flashed in Savannah’s eyes. “Don’t get too comfortable, Ava. I’m not leaving.”

She pulled a document from her handbag and slapped it onto the covers in front of Ava.

“Take a look! On my advice, Clayton has registered all of your so-called genius formulas with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office under the name ‘Montgomery family ancestral recipes’!”

As she spoke, she suddenly screamed toward the door. “Security! Ava Chen is trying to steal company assets!”

Before Ava could react, Savannah shoved her hard against the bookshelf.

The back of her head slammed against the solid oak. Her vision went black, and she lost consciousness.

When she woke up, she was in the distillery infirmary.

Clayton stood before the bed, his face as cold as whiskey stones fresh from the freezer.

“Ava,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth, “I’ve already asked Savannah to leave for now. How long are you going to keep making trouble?”

“If you’re still angry with me, take it out on me. But how could you steal the company’s formulas? Those are the work of generations of my family!”

Ava suddenly felt a soul-deep exhaustion.

“If I say I didn’t,” she said hoarsely, “will you believe me?”

“Didn’t?” Clayton cut her off, his disappointment clear. “The children saw it with their own eyes. They saw Savannah take the confidential document back from you.”

Each word was an icicle stabbing into Ava’s already numb heart.

The door opened. Savannah walked in with Beau and Daisy, followed by the head of the company’s legal department.

Daisy hid behind Savannah. “It was her,” she said in a small voice. “Mom tried to take a folder from Dad’s study, and Aunt Savannah was pushed down when she tried to stop her.”

Beau stood beside his sister, his cold silence confirming her lie.

The head of legal looked gravely at Ava, then turned to Clayton.

“Mr. Montgomery, if the facts are as stated, this constitutes serious corporate misconduct. According to company bylaws, we can report this to the police. During the investigation, the individual involved must be barred from all core areas of the distillery.”

Clayton instinctively rejected the idea. “No. She is my wife. This will be handled internally.”

Ava was slightly surprised. She hadn’t expected him to protect her.

Seeing this, a malicious glint appeared in Savannah’s eyes. She spoke in a kind, reasonable tone.

“Clayton, don’t be so hard on Ava. She’s given so much for this family. Maybe she was just confused and didn’t understand who the company assets belong to. How about this? Have Ava publish a written apology in the company’s internal system, admitting her mistake. That will show she understands and will give everyone an explanation. What do you think?”

Beau echoed softly, “Yeah… it’s just admitting a mistake.”

Daisy’s voice was cold. “You were wrong first. You should apologize to Aunt Savannah.”

Ava looked at the two children, so thoroughly brainwashed. The last pang in her heart disappeared, leaving only a hollow calm.

Clayton looked at Ava. Seeing her indifferent expression, he grew irritated. His face darkened. “Do as Savannah said.”

The next day, a humiliating apology letter under Ava Chen’s name appeared in the Montgomery Distillery internal email system. The subject line read: “Statement Regarding My Misunderstanding of Company Intellectual Property Ownership.”

After the news spread, the way the entire distillery looked at her changed.

In the hallways, distillers who had once respected her now pointed and whispered.

“I never thought she was that kind of person. And we called her the golden palate.”

“I heard she tried to sell the formulas to a competitor in Tennessee. Miss Beaumont caught her red-handed.”

Ava walked toward her tiny office, surrounded by whispers and averted gazes.

A young distiller’s assistant “accidentally” spilled a tasting glass of bourbon all over her shirt.

On her desk, someone had taped a note written in marker.

Thief.

She curled up in a bathroom stall, rinsing the whiskey from her clothes with cold water. The old injury near her ribs throbbed dully.

It hurt. Her whole body hurt.

But more painful than that was her heart. This place, where she had poured more than ten years of her life, had now become her execution ground.

When she came out of the bathroom, she saw Clayton at the end of the hall.

He was listening intently as Savannah said something, his eyes filled with a tenderness Ava had never seen. Beau and Daisy stood at Savannah’s sides like two proud little swans.

No one looked at her. No one stepped forward.

Ava suddenly wanted to laugh.

Good. This way, she had even less to miss.

After returning to the estate, she found her condition worsening. The aftereffects of the hypothermia, the injuries from the fall, and the blow to her head left her with a low-grade fever for days.

The company doctor came to examine her and frowned.

“Mrs. Montgomery, your old and new injuries are compounding.” He lowered his voice. “Also, HR has marked your recent injury records as ‘suspected workplace violence.’ By regulation, I must remind you that I am obligated to report this to OSHA if necessary.”

Ava remained silent.

She didn’t need a hotline. She didn’t need anyone to save her.

What she needed was the loan confirmation letter and a ticket out of here.

Three days later, Ava was cleared to leave the infirmary.

Clayton stood at the door in a crisp suit. His gaze fell on her pale face. After a long silence, he said, “As long as you stop making trouble and stay home, I’ll spend more time with you. Look. This is the latest bottle design. I had them put your name on it as a co-brand: Ava’s Reserve. No matter what, you will always be Montgomery’s chief distiller.”

He held out an elegant sample bottle, as if offering charity.

Ava slowly lifted her head and looked at the man she had loved for two lifetimes. His features were still handsome, but she had never truly existed in his blue eyes.

Just then, Clayton’s assistant hurried over. “Mr. Montgomery, Miss Beaumont seems a little dizzy in the tasting room. She’s asking for you.”

The moment Clayton heard this, the impatience on his face was replaced by concern. He shoved the bottle into Ava’s arms and said hastily, “Rest well.”

He turned and left without a moment’s hesitation. Ava closed her eyes, her heart as still as water.

The assistant looked at her with some sympathy. “Oh, by the way, ma’am, your phone was ringing earlier. It sounded urgent.”

Ava forced her numb body to move and checked her phone.

Countless missed calls slid across the screen before it stopped on a text message.

Sender: First Tennessee Bank.

“Dear Ms. Chen, congratulations. Your business loan application has received final approval. The funds are now available. We look forward to seeing you begin a new chapter in Nashville.”

At last. It was done.

She stared at the words, sitting in the silent infirmary for a long time.

Then she stood, walked out of the distillery, and called a car to take her back to the estate.

There was very little to pack. A few changes of clothes, a few professional books, and the Distiller’s Ledger, which she had already retrieved from the bank and hidden safely in the lining of her suitcase.

She opened the desk drawer and took out a document and a pen she had prepared long ago.

Sitting at the desk, she thought for a moment and realized she had nothing left to say to this house or this man.

She simply signed her name at the end of the divorce agreement, then wrote one sentence on a sticky note.

“Clayton, take care of your brand and your children. I’m leaving. Don’t look for me.”

Finally, she picked up her old leather suitcase and took one last look at the house, the golden cage where she had lived for more than ten years.

Then she turned, closed the door, and left without looking back.

The Greyhound bus crossed the Kentucky state line, heading for Tennessee. Outside the window, rolling bluegrass fields and white fences flew by.

Ava sat by the window. The wound near her ribs still ached, but clearer than the pain was a strange lightness.

It felt as if something heavy had been left behind in that stretch of bluegrass, shaken loose by the jostling of the bus.

It was the angel, finally taking back her share.