My Coldhearted Husband’s Regret

Cullen carefully placed his glass on the side table, meeting Felix's steady gaze. The crystal caught the lamplight, casting brief rainbows across the mahogany surface between them.

"The privilege is entirely mine, Mr. Shane Senior," he replied, his voice carrying just the right blend of respect and confidence. He lowered himself into the leather chair opposite Felix, the aged furniture creaking softly under his weight. "I trust you'll show mercy to a rusty opponent."

The drawing room filled with interested spectators as word of the match spread. Niall appeared first, followed closely by Marco and several other family members who had been lingering after dinner. The anticipation in the air was palpable, like the moments before a thunderstorm.

Veronica found herself drawn to the unfolding drama, Dario beside her as they positioned themselves behind Felix's chair. The chess board between the two men seemed to shrink the vast room, creating an intimate battlefield where every move would matter.

Marco noticed Veronica's focused attention on the board setup and drifted toward her, curiosity evident in his expression.

"Do you understand the game?" he inquired, genuinely interested.

"I have some familiarity with it," Veronica responded diplomatically.

Dario nearly choked on his suppressed laughter. Some familiarity was like calling the ocean somewhat wet. But he kept his thoughts to himself, understanding her preference for understatement.

The opening moves were cautious affairs, each player testing the waters like swimmers checking the temperature. Felix and Cullen circled each other metaphorically, neither willing to reveal their hand too early. The pieces moved in careful, measured steps across the checkered battlefield.

As the minutes ticked by, both men began to read each other's style. Felix's approach shifted noticeably, becoming more aggressive and direct. His pieces advanced with military precision, creating pressure points across the board that demanded immediate attention.

Cullen responded by weaving a defensive web, his pieces dancing backward and sideways in an intricate pattern. To the casual observer, he appeared to be retreating, struggling to keep pace with Felix's relentless assault. Every move seemed reactive, desperate even.

But appearances could be deceiving.

Veronica's eyes grew sharper with each passing exchange, her analytical mind parsing the subtle complexities unfolding before her. The longer she watched, the more convinced she became that there were layers to this game that others weren't seeing.

Dario, himself no stranger to chess strategy, leaned closer to whisper, "What's your assessment? Who takes this?"

"Too close to call," she murmured back, her answer deliberately noncommittal.

Niall and Nate exchanged glances, clearly finding her response frustratingly vague and unhelpful. They wanted predictions, not diplomatic hedging.

But Dario understood the deeper meaning behind her careful words. Veronica never spoke carelessly about things she understood well, and her reluctance to commit to a prediction suggested complexities the others were missing.

The truth was more nuanced than Veronica could easily explain. Cullen's position consistently looked precarious, yet somehow he managed to find equalizing moves just when defeat seemed imminent. It was possible he was simply an exceptional defensive player, able to find resources where none seemed to exist.

Alternatively, he might be orchestrating an elaborate deception, allowing Felix to feel in control while gradually drawing him into a carefully prepared trap. The distinction between genuine struggle and calculated misdirection was nearly impossible to discern from the outside.

What made her hesitate most was the question of Cullen's ultimate intentions. Reading the position was one thing, but reading the player's heart was another matter entirely.

As the younger man, social convention suggested he might choose to defer to Felix's seniority, allowing the elder statesman to claim victory regardless of the board position. Such gestures were common in high society, where relationships often mattered more than results.

Her internal debate was interrupted by Felix's rich chuckle, cutting through the room's tense atmosphere.

"Listen, Cullen," he said, his tone carrying both amusement and mild irritation, "I may be getting on in years, but I'm not blind. If you continue treating me like fragile china, I'll be genuinely offended."

Cullen's smile was perfectly crafted, revealing nothing while appearing completely open. "I'm afraid I'm rather out of practice, Mr. Shane Senior. It's been quite some time since my last serious game."

Felix made a dismissive sound, clearly unconvinced by the modest explanation.

The older man possessed genuine skill, and it took another quarter-hour of intense play before he finally found himself checkmated, losing by the narrowest possible margin. A single piece had made the difference between victory and defeat.

Rather than displaying frustration at the loss, Felix's eyes lit up with renewed interest. The close result had only whetted his appetite for more challenging competition.

"Another round," Cullen suggested with apparent casualness, gesturing toward the reset board.

Felix needed no further encouragement, immediately diving into the second game with increased determination.

This time, Cullen abandoned all pretense of defensive play. His pieces moved with surgical precision, creating threats that demanded immediate responses. Felix's eyes narrowed as he recognized the shift in his opponent's approach, but Cullen merely offered another enigmatic smile.

"Excellent play," he commented mildly, as if discussing the weather.

Felix found himself genuinely enjoying the elevated competition. It had been far too long since anyone had pushed him this hard across the chess board, forcing him to use every ounce of his accumulated knowledge and experience.

The second game flowed directly into a third, momentum carrying them forward.

Before beginning, Felix fixed Cullen with a stern look. "No more games within the game. Give me everything you have, and don't insult my intelligence by pretending I can't handle genuine competition."

"I wouldn't dream of underestimating you, Mr. Shane Senior," Cullen replied smoothly.

Felix waved off the diplomatic response and focused entirely on the board before him.

The result was inevitable. Felix found himself checkmated again, this time more decisively than before.

He set down his king with graceful acceptance, rising from his chair with the dignity of a man who had given his best effort. "I surrender completely. You've earned this victory honestly."

Before Cullen could offer the customary modest response, Felix turned toward the assembled spectators with a challenging gleam in his eye.

"Who's next? I'm not asking anyone to defeat him necessarily, just make him work a little harder for his wins."