Too Late for my Husband's Regret — Novel

About

In a world where family loyalty collides with ambition, Isabella finds herself at a crossroads. When her sister steps back from a marriage to a man who lies unconscious, Isabella makes a shocking offer: to marry Julian Grant, the heir to a biomedical empire, despite his inability to wake from his coma. But what does it mean to enter a union with a man who cannot love her, let alone speak?

As Isabella navigates the treacherous waters of power, control, and familial expectations, she discovers that the stakes are higher than she ever imagined. Her father, driven by profit, sees her as a mere pawn in a game of corporate chess, while her sister, Serena, watches with a mix of envy and concern. And lurking in the shadows is Ethan, the enigmatic figure who seems to understand Isabella’s true motivations, yet warns her of the dangers that come with negotiating her own worth.

In this gripping tale of sacrifice and ambition, Isabella must confront the question: how far will she go to seize her own autonomy in a world designed to keep her silent? As alliances shift and tensions rise, will she find the strength to claim her destiny, or will the very walls she seeks to break down become her prison?

Too Late for My Husband’s RegretChapter 1

Isabella's POV

“I’ll take the marriage.”

The words did not echo in the boardroom. They didn’t need to. They landed with the soft finality of a verdict, the kind no one argues with because the sentence has already been carried out.

My father’s pen froze above the contract. The only sound was the quiet ticking of the glass wall clock behind him, each second marking the death of the deal we were all pretending hadn’t already collapsed.

Serena’s breath hitched beside me. It wasn’t loud. Serena never let her reactions be loud. Her strength lay in control — in the polished beauty that made her seem gentle while every movement was calculated.

“You?” my father said at last, voice stripped of warmth. “Isabella, stop this nonsense.”

“I’m not joking.”

“You’re emotional.”

“No,” I replied. “I’m being practical.”