Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 479: Regret

While Anna was basking in the success of her film—wrapped in applause, bathed in golden light, surrounded by people who finally saw her worth—inside the Bennett mansion, Hugo was sinking into the weight of his own failure.

The house felt unnaturally still.

The same walls that once carried the echo of business meetings, controlled conversations, and calculated decisions now held only silence. The chandeliers glowed dimly above polished floors, but the light felt cold, almost distant.

Hugo sat alone in his study.

Files were spread across his desk—declining numbers, withdrawn partnerships, messages marked urgent. He had tried to review them, tried to think like he always did: strategically, coldly, ahead of the curve.

But tonight, his mind refused to cooperate.

Everything had fallen apart.

And no matter how much he tried to gather himself, to stand mentally where he once stood so firmly, he couldn’t.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t thinking about damage control.

He was thinking about Anna.

Her face rose in his memory—not the confident woman from tonight’s headlines, but the younger version. The one who used to stand quietly at the edge of rooms. The one who waited for acknowledgment that rarely came.

He remembered how easy it had been to overlook her.

How convenient.

She had been obedient. Available when he needed to present a perfect family image. Silent when decisions were made over her head. Useful when alliances needed strengthening.

He had told himself it was necessary. Practical.

This is how power worked.

But sitting there now, alone in the mansion that felt too large for one man, the justifications sounded hollow.

He remembered the way she used to look at him—not demanding love, just seeking recognition.

And how often he had chosen indifference instead.

A muscle in his jaw tightened.

He hadn’t thought it would matter. She was his daughter. She would endure. Adapt. Accept.

Instead, she had walked away.

And somehow, in doing so, she had grown stronger.

Stronger without him.

The realization settled heavily in his chest.

Regret crept in slowly at first—unfamiliar, uncomfortable. Then it deepened, sharp and invasive. Not regret for losing control of business deals.

Regret for losing her.

His breathing shifted.

A faint pressure formed beneath his ribs, subtle but insistent. He ignored it, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly as if he could steady himself.

But the pressure didn’t fade.

It spread.

His chest felt tight, as though something invisible was wrapping around it and pulling. His breaths grew shorter. Uneven.

He straightened abruptly, one hand pressing against his sternum.

"Not now..." he muttered under his breath, though there was no one there to hear him.

The room blurred slightly at the edges. A bead of sweat traced down his temple.

Another wave hit—stronger.

The regret, the silence, the realization—all of it seemed to crash into him at once. His heart pounded violently, not steady but erratic, like it was struggling against something too heavy to carry.

He tried to stand.

The chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor, the sound jarring in the quiet room.

But his legs felt weak.

His hand reached toward the desk, knocking over a stack of papers. Documents scattered across the floor like fragments of a crumbling empire.

He opened his mouth—to call for help, to shout for someone, anyone.

No sound came.

The weight in his chest tightened sharply, stealing the air from his lungs.

For a split second, Anna’s face flashed again in his mind—not distant this time, not silent. Strong. Unapologetic. Free.

His vision darkened.

The strength drained from his body before he could gather enough breath to speak.

Hugo collapsed onto the cold marble floor, the impact echoing through the empty study.

***

Meanwhile, Roseline sat alone in their bedroom, staring at the untouched side of the bed.

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight.

Hugo still hadn’t come up.

She told herself it was nothing. He had locked himself in the study before. He had shut her out before. Pride did that to him. Failure did that to him even more.

But tonight felt different.

After Anna walked away from them earlier, something in the house had shifted. The air had thinned. Conversations had ended halfway. Even the staff moved quieter, as if stepping around something fragile.

One moment Hugo had been accusing her—his voice sharp, eyes blazing, blaming her for decisions, for pressure, for miscalculations. The next moment he had broken down in a way she had never seen before. Not anger. Not authority. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Tears.

Roseline pressed her lips together at the memory.

"Pull yourself together," she muttered to herself, pacing slowly across the bedroom. "He just needs space."

But space had lasted all day.

He hadn’t come out for lunch. Hadn’t answered when she knocked lightly in the afternoon. Hadn’t responded to the tray sent in the evening.

She glanced at the door again.

"I should check on him."

Her steps moved toward it.

Then she stopped.

"And say what?" she whispered bitterly. "Are you done blaming me? Are you done breaking down?"

Her reflection in the mirror looked back at her—composed, but unsettled.

"He accused you first," she reminded herself quietly. "He said you pushed too hard. That you meddled. Let him sit with his own decisions for once."

Silence answered her.

But beneath the irritation was something else.

Fear.

What if he wasn’t just angry?

What if he wasn’t okay?

Roseline exhaled sharply, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve. "You’re overthinking," she tried again. "He’s Hugo Bennett. He doesn’t collapse. He recovers."

The words felt forced.

Another minute passed.

Then another.

The ticking clock grew louder in her ears.

"Enough," she whispered to herself finally. "This is ridiculous."

She stepped out into the hallway.

The mansion felt colder at night. Dimmed lights cast long shadows against the walls. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she made her way toward the study.

The door at the end of the corridor was closed.

She hesitated.

Her hand hovered near the handle.

"Just check," she murmured under her breath. "You’re not surrendering. You’re just checking."

She knocked lightly.

"Hugo?"

No response.

Her heartbeat quickened.

She tried again, louder this time. "Hugo, open the door."

Still nothing.

A thin thread of unease tightened in her chest.

She didn’t wait anymore. The door wasn’t locked completely—just pushed shut.

She turned the handle and stepped inside.

The study lamp cast a faint glow across the room. Papers were scattered across the floor. A chair lay slightly tilted as if it had been shoved back too quickly.

And there—

"Hugo?"

He was on the floor.

Collapsed.

One arm bent awkwardly beneath him, the other stretched toward the desk as though he had tried to grab onto something.

For a second, Roseline couldn’t move.

Her mind refused to process what her eyes were seeing.

"Hugo," she said again, but this time her voice cracked.

She rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside him. His face looked pale under the dim light. Too pale.

Her hands trembled as she touched his shoulder. "Hugo, wake up."

No response.

The reality hit her like ice water.

The man who had filled rooms with authority—who had shouted, accused, broken down hours ago—

Now lay silent.

And for the first time that night, Roseline’s fear overpowered everything else.

"Hugo!" she screamed, the sound tearing through the stillness of the Bennett mansion.