My Coldhearted Husband’s Regret

Going out for lunch seemed like the best option. None of them felt like cooking, and their appetites were already diminished by the morning's events.

"Let's eat out," Veronica suggested, trying to inject some normalcy into their day.

Mary nodded with a weak smile. "Okay, whatever you decide, Ver."

The drive to the restaurant was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Veronica pulled into the parking lot, and as she and Phillip stepped out of the car, an unwelcome sight greeted them—the Crystal and Mack had arrived at the same establishment.

Their timing couldn't have been worse. The moment they approached the entrance, someone recognized Niall and Isaac, greeting them enthusiastically and inviting them to join their gathering.

The Crystal and Mack noticed the Murray family immediately. Jade made no attempt to hide her disdain, letting out an audible scoff while giving them a contemptuous once-over. Dora barely acknowledged them with a fleeting glance before pointedly looking away. Niall, however, displayed the ultimate dismissal—acting as if Veronica and her family were completely invisible.

The restaurant manager rushed forward, his demeanor shifting to one of practiced deference. "Ms. Crystal," he said with a polite smile, "Mr. Dennis's preferred private lounge has been prepared for you. Please, this way."

Niall responded with the barest of nods, not even bothering to glance in Veronica's direction. Instead, she turned to Bryan, the gentleman who had just invited them to dine together.

"Apologies" she said smoothly, "but this is a private family gathering. Let's arrange something another time."

Bryan picked up on the dismissal instantly. "Of course, of course," he replied, backing away. "I wouldn't dream of intruding on your family dinner."

Without another word, Niall followed the manager inside, her family trailing behind her like a royal entourage.

Veronica hadn't anticipated this encounter. She linked her arm through Mary's, hesitation evident in her movements. Mary gave her hand a reassuring pat. "It's fine," she murmured. "Just go on in."

"Alright," Veronica said, squaring her shoulders.

The moment they stepped through the entrance, a well-dressed host intercepted them with an apologetic—yet clearly manufactured—smile. "I'm so sorry, but we're fully booked for the afternoon. Unfortunately, we don't have any available tables at the moment."

Veronica felt her jaw tighten. She'd been to this restaurant countless times and had never once seen it completely full, especially not on a regular weekday. This was obviously the Crystal and Mack exerting their influence.

She wasn't the only one who recognized the ploy. Both Phillip and Mary exchanged knowing glances, aware of what was happening.

"Ms. Murray?"

The familiar voice made her turn. Edric Patterson stood a few feet away, his expression curious.

"Hello, Mr. Patterson," she greeted, maintaining her composure despite the humiliation burning through her.

Edric's sharp gaze shifted to the increasingly uncomfortable host, then back to Veronica. "What happened? Why aren't you going in?"

"Well," Veronica replied evenly, "the staff told us that all the tables are booked."

Edric fixed the host with a penetrating look. "Oh, is that so?"

The host visibly blanched. He clearly recognized Edric, and more importantly, was aware that Maxwell Patterson—Edric's influential family member—was currently dining inside.

Seeing Edric potentially ready to intervene on Veronica's behalf, the host quickly stepped forward. "We just received word that a table has opened up. A private lounge is now available. Please, come in."

Veronica didn't move. Instead, she looked at Mary, silently communicating.

"Let's head somewhere else to eat," Mary said softly, dignity intact.

Veronica nodded. "Okay." She turned to Edric with genuine appreciation. "Thank you, Mr. Patterson."

"It's no big deal," Edric replied with casual ease. He paused momentarily, acknowledging Mary and the others with a respectful nod.

The Murray family left, heads held high despite the slight.

Edric entered the restaurant, his gaze sweeping over the host who was now sweating profusely. The man forced a nervous smile but remained tellingly silent.

His lack of explanation told Edric everything he needed to know—whoever had orchestrated this petty display wielded significant influence. And Edric had a pretty good idea who it might be.