Her Regret Is My Final Masterpiece

All because I refused to cook a goddamn meal for the man Victoria had spent her whole life loving.

That was why she pulled the plug on my mothers treatment.

I was burning up with a hundred-and-three-degree fever, kneeling in the freezing sleet outside her townhouse for an entire night, begging her. I called her phone over and over, my fingers numb and bleeding from the cold, until the line finally went dead. She had blocked me.

By the time I dragged myself back to the oncology ward, my mother was already gone. She died in agonizing pain.

And Victorias golden boy? He was posting a photo of the two of them on Instagram.

In the picture, they were smiling, flushed with wine and the thrill of being together. The caption read: If youre the one waiting at the end of it all, I don't mind that it took this long.

I went numb. I handled my mothers cremation with hollowed-out efficiency, sent Victoria a text saying we were done, and tried to disappear.

But she wouldn't let me go.

"Victoria. We're done."

I could endure the neglect. I could stomach the countless times Victoria cast me aside the second Spencer snapped his fingers. I could even swallow my pride and play the role of the dutiful, invisible boyfriend while she chased the ghost of her childhood sweetheart.

But I would nevercould neverforgive her for treating my mothers life as collateral damage. She had cut off the funding and revoked the specialist care for my moms stage-four cancer without a second thought.

She knew. She knew better than anyone that time was the only thing keeping my mother breathing, that every delayed hour was a death sentence. And she signed the order anyway.

All because I wouldn't play private chef for the man she was having an emotional affair with.

It was absurd. It was so profoundly sick.

In her eyes, a living, breathing human being was worth less than a moment of her lovers fleeting comfort. My mothers life weighed less than a plate of food.

After the funeral, I went back to the house to pack the last of my things.

It wasn't until I was sitting in my cramped, temporary studio apartment that I realized I had left the locket behind.

It was a delicate silver thing, hand-crafted for my eighteenth birthday. Mom had taken it to Father Thomas at our old parish to have it blessed. I had left it on the dresser in Victorias master bedroom.

I had no choice. I had to go back to the estate.

I thought the house would be empty. But the moment I pushed open the heavy oak doors, I found myself staring dead at Victoria and Spencer.

They looked exhausted but glowing, designer luggage scattered across the marble foyer. God knows where they had just flown in from.

Victoria caught sight of me, a cynical, mocking smirk twisting her lips. "So, you finally decided to crawl back?"

"Spencer is going to crash here for a few days," she ordered, tossing her coat onto a chair. "Go upstairs and get the guest suite ready."

I stared at her, genuinely marveling at the sheer audacity of her mind. Why was it that every time Spencer graced us with his presence, I was expected to play the help?

Looking at them now, it felt like I was the beaten-down spouse being forced to fluff the pillows for the mistress.

Before I could even formulate a rejection, Spencer flashed me a practiced, apologetic smile. He casually, almost territorially, draped his arm over Victorias shoulder. "Cole, man, I'm so sorry. Vic and I just got back from Gstaad, and the jet lag is brutal. We're just too wiped to deal with hotels right now. You don't mind taking care of us for a couple of days, do you?"

"You're cool with that, right?"

A laugh tore out of my throat. It was jagged and ugly.

So that was it. While my mother was suffocating in a hospital bed, they were skiing in the Swiss Alps.

A week ago, Spencer had a sudden craving. He mentioned to Victoria that he wanted to try "Cole's famous home cooking." He wanted me to make him dinner.

I had a fever that was cooking my brain, and I was terrified for my mother whose vitals were dropping. I politely declined.

Spencer threw a subtle, passive-aggressive fit. I have no idea what he whispered to Victoria behind closed doors.

But the next morning, I got the call from the hospital administrators. Victoria had revoked the medical mandate.

The hospital was part of the Kensington Medical Group. Her family owned the board. They had the best oncologists in the country on payroll. Without Victorias explicit authorization, no one there would touch my mother.

I called her until my phone battery died. I got nothing.

Two days later, the delay in treatment caused massive organ failure. My mom died screaming.

And Victoria? She was flying across the Atlantic with the love of her life.

When my world was ending, she didn't even bother to look back.

While my mother was howling in the ICU, while I was freezing my knees off in the snowwhat was she doing?

She was curled up in his arms.

My entire body was vibrating. I had to curl my hands into fists so tight my nails cut into my palms, just to keep myself from doing something I couldn't undo.

"Victoria, we are broken up." My voice was eerily calm.

"From this second forward, your life is none of my fucking business. And do not ever ask me to do another goddamn thing for Spencer."

I bypassed them entirely, walking straight toward the master closet to retrieve the locket from the jewelry stand.

When I crossed back through the living room, Victoria and Spencer were sitting thigh-to-thigh on the sofa.

Victoria was swirling a glass of Cabernet. She fixed me with a dark, glacial stare. "Stop right there. Did I say you were dismissed?"

"Do you think my house is a revolving door? You walk out when you throw a tantrum and waltz back in when it suits you?"

"Cole, if you take one step out that door today, you can go ahead and plan your mothers funeral."

I froze. My foot hovered over the carpet.

She was... she was holding my mother hostage?

Victoria knew exactly how much my mother meant to me. She was the center of my universe.

And Victoria leveraged that. She knew that as long as my mom was sick, I couldn't afford to leave. I was trapped. I had to be her obedient little dog, taking every ounce of disrespect, every blatant betrayal involving Spencer, because I needed her money to keep my mom alive.

But she didn't know the game was already over.

I had buried my mother yesterday.

There was nothing left keeping me here. Any thread tying me to Victoria Kensington had been incinerated in that crematorium.

Misinterpreting my silence as surrender, Victoria lifted her chin, her tone dripping with arrogant triumph. "Im starving. Go make dinner for me and Spencer. Do that, and Ill pretend this little rebellion of yours never happened."

God. Who the hell did she think she was?

I looked at her, my eyes entirely dead. "Are you deaf, Victoria? I said we are done. You want me to cook for you and your little side piece? You aren't worth the dirt on my shoes."

I had never spoken to her like that. For years, I was the peacemaker. I smoothed out the rough edges. I swallowed my pride.

But standing there, knowing my mother was in an urn on my cheap apartment counter, Victoria Kensington meant absolutely nothing to me. She was just a stranger in an expensive suit.

Her face darkened instantly, a storm brewing behind her eyes. "Watch your mouth, Cole. My patience has limits."

I knew that. God, I knew that better than anyone.

In six years, every fight ended with me apologizing. She never once tried to comfort me.

Every dinner date, I arrived thirty minutes early because Victoria didn't wait for people.

I remembered our first hiking trip, back when things were new. I asked her to wait ten minutes while I grabbed us water from a crowded kiosk. When I got back, she was gone. She had just started the trail without me, leaving me in the dust without a text.

From that day on, my eyes were glued to my watch.

Victoria only had patience for Spencer.

It didn't matter if it was 3:00 AM; if Spencer called, she was in her car, speeding through the rain.

If Spencer kept her waiting for hours, she sat there with a smile. Never a complaint. Never a sigh.

Everyone in our social circle knew the truth: Victoria Kensington had been waiting for Spencer for six years.

They met in prep school. They were the golden couple. Then Spencer took off for Europe, chasing art or business or whatever excuse he used to avoid settling down. And Victoria waited.

And then... she bumped into me. I was just the placeholder. The understudy.

I met her in my senior year of college. She was brilliant, radiant, untouchable. In a crowded room, she was the only thing I saw. I fell for her, hard and fast.

But I was drowning. My mom had just gotten her diagnosis. I was working three jobs, trying to scrape together enough money for chemo.

That was when Victoria swooped in. She paid the bills. She saved us.

I thought it was fate. I thought we were soulmates, drawn together by tragedy and love.

I didn't know her heart was already occupied by a ghost everyone else seemed to know about.

None of her friends told me. None of our mutuals warned me.

I played the happy idiot for three years, convinced I was the love of her life.

I even proposed. I bought a ring. I thought I was the luckiest man alive.

Then, six months ago, Spencer moved back to the States.

The day he landed was the day of my moms high-risk surgery. Victoria and I were in the car, heading to the hospital. Her phone rang. She took the call, pulled the car over, got out, and hailed a cab.

She didn't show up for the surgery.

Because Spencers flight had touched down at JFK.

Since that day, Victoria morphed into someone else.

The canceled dates turned into blatant, unapologetic abandonments. Spencer started showing up at our house, claiming his territory, taking what he wanted.

She couldn't spare ten minutes to sit with me in the oncology waiting room.

She couldn't wait two minutes for me at a restaurant.

On our anniversary, I woke up violently ill. I popped ibuprofen, praying the fever would break. Victoria hadn't even come home the night before.

I was so dizzy I couldn't stand. The migraine was blinding. I couldn't even see the screen of my phone to call for help.

Victoria went to the restaurant I had booked. She sat there for exactly ten minutes before calling me.

"You're two minutes late. Where the hell are you?"

I tried to ask her to call me an ambulance. She scoffed, called me pathetic, and hung up.

Leaving me alone on the bathroom floor, too weak to dial 911.

That night, my fever finally broke. I opened Instagram. The first thing on my feed was a photo of her and Spencer, shopping on Fifth Avenue.

She was smiling a smile I hadn't seen in years.

She couldn't wait two minutes for me. She abandoned me when I was half-dead on our floor.

But she was perfectly happy waiting three hours for Spencer to try on watches.

The memory fractured as Spencer stepped in front of Victoria, looking at me with feigned disappointment. "Cole, listen. Even if you don't want to cook for us, theres no need to talk to Vic like that. Throwing around the word 'breakup' every time you throw a tantrum... it's toxic, man."

I let out a harsh breath, shaking my head. "Who the fuck do you think you are? This is between her and me. Keep your mouth shut."

Spencers smile faltered. He immediately dropped his gaze, playing the victim perfectly. "Cole... I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just..."

As he spoke, he took a clumsy, theatrical step forward. He "tripped," his hand jerking out.

The full glass of red wine splashed directly onto the silver locket in my hand.

Spencer let out an exaggerated gasp, grabbing his sleeve to frantically dab at the metal.

In the chaos, his hand shoved mine. The locket slipped.

It hit the marble floor.

The clasp snapped. The delicate silver chain broke apart, the tiny beads and religious medals scattering across the stone with a sickening, chaotic clatter.

The jade cross my mother had worn around her neck for twenty yearsthe one housed inside the locketshattered right down the middle.

I snapped my head up.

Through the mess of apologies, I caught the fleeting, venomous smirk in Spencers eyes. He did it on purpose.

Something inside methe last remaining thread of my sanitysnapped.

Before I even realized my feet were moving, my fist was already connecting with his jaw.

Neither of them expected the violence.

The room plunged into a suffocating, echoing silence. The smack of bone on bone seemed to ring off the high ceilings.

It took a few seconds for reality to set in. Victoria lunged forward, grabbing Spencers arm to steady him.

When she looked at me, her eyes were absolute murder.

"Cole! Have you lost your damn mind?! Who gave you the right to touch him?!"

Spencer cradled his cheek, his voice trembling perfectly. "Cole, man, I swear it was an accident. I'll pay for the necklace, whatever it costs..."

"Heh... hahahaha..."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest, raw and hysterical. Tears blurred my vision, threatening to spill over, but I forced my eyes wide, glaring at Spencer with pure, unadulterated hatred.

"Pay? Pay for it?!" My voice cracked, echoing in the massive room. "With what, Spencer? Are you going to give me a life for a life?!"

My mother was dead. This was the only thing I had left of her.

And now it was ruined. Just like everything else.

Victoria scoffed. The sound was so cold it chilled the blood in my veins. "Its a cheap piece of junk, Cole. It broke. Get over it. Ill buy you a thousand of them."

Before I could react, she reached down, snatched the broken half of the locket from the floor, and threw it hard against the marble.

But that wasn't enough.

In her designer heels, she brought her foot down. The stiletto heel dug into the fragile silver casing, crushing it completely flat.

I stared at the mangled metal, my brain misfiring. The grief, the rage, the profound exhaustion of the last six years surged up, threatening to blow my skull apart.

I threw myself toward her, my voice tearing from my throat. "Stop! Get off of it!"

Victoria didn't even flinch. She just kicked me back, a sharp thrust of her heel into my shin. Then, right in front of my eyes, she ground her heel in again, twisting it until the silver was nothing but a deformed piece of scrap.

When she was finished, she looked down at me, her expression completely detached.

"Apologize to Spencer."

I collapsed onto my knees. My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I reached out to gather the jagged shards of the locket and the shattered jade. The sharp edges sliced into my fingertips. Blood beaded up, mixing with the tears falling from my chin, but I couldn't feel the pain. I just tried, frantically, to piece it back together.

When I didn't answer, Victorias jaw clenched. She reached down to grab my collar.

I whipped my head around. The look I gave herthe absolute, soul-deep revulsion radiating from my eyesmade her hand stop in mid-air. She instinctively pulled back.

"I won't say it again, Cole."

In that moment, I hated myself more than I hated her.

Mom, I'm so useless. I couldn't even protect the last thing you gave me.

Victoria seemed to register the shift in me. She opened her mouth, the anger faltering slightly, but Spencer cut her off.

He tugged on her sleeve, whimpering. "Vic, my jaw is killing me. Can you look at it?"

A bruise was already forming, angry and purple, where my knuckles had connected.

Victorias eyes darted to his face, softening for a fraction of a second, before snapping back to me, the fury returning tenfold.

"Cole, I have been way too lenient with you. I am giving you one last chance. Apologize to Spencer. Now." It was an ultimatum, heavy with threat.

"And if I don't?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, holding her gaze.

She narrowed her eyes, delivering the killing blow. "Do you just not care if your mother lives or dies anymore?"

I let out a breath. And then, I smiled.

It was a broken, tired smile.

"I'm laughing at how stupid you are, Victoria. Do you really think Im the same guy you can just push around? You think you can just snap your fingers and Ill drop to my knees? If you had bothered to make a single phone call, you wouldn't be standing there making threats you can't cash."

If my mother were still breathing, I wouldn't just apologize to Spencer. I would wash his feet if it meant keeping her safe.

But she was gone. Victoria had no leverage left. She had nothing.

Spencer stepped forward, his voice rising in panic. "Vic, I told you! I told you guys like him are manipulative liars!"

"If his mom was really that sick, why is he acting so calm right now? I bet he's been faking the whole thing just to drain your bank account!"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" I roared, the sound ripping from my chest, cutting his slander dead. "You parasitic piece of shit!"

Victoria had seen the reality of my mothers illness. She had been there when the chemotherapy made her vomit blood. She knew the sacrifices I made.

But as Spencer called me a liar, she stood there. Silent. Complicit.

And then, she delivered the final verdict. "Cole, this is the last time. Say you're sorry to Spencer, and I will pretend none of this happened. Your mother keeps her doctors."

"Go to hell."

That did it. The ice in her eyes shattered.

She let out a harsh, incredulous laugh, still fully believing she held all the cards. "I got your mother the best oncologist on the East Coast. If you swallow your pride right now, Ill make sure the treatments continue."

"But youre really pushing it, Cole. It seems like you need to learn the hard way."

She pulled out her phone, her manicured thumb tapping aggressively at the screen.

I watched her with a dead, hollowed-out expression. There was a sick part of me that wanted her to press call. I wanted her to realize how monumentally stupid she was. I wanted her to feel the floor drop out from under her.

When I didn't drop to the floor and beg, her finger trembled slightly. But her pride won. She hit the dial button, calling her executive assistant.

The phone was on speaker. The assistant's voice came through, frantic and confused.

"Ms. Kensington? Mr. Coles mother... wait, did you not know? She passed away."