My Coldhearted Husband’s Regret

Malcolm Blair commanded respect across every corner of the tech world, a legend who had built his empire before most people hit their stride. At barely forty-two, his presence could silence a room of seasoned executives.

His tall frame cut an imposing figure as he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and stepped onto the platform. The thunderous applause that erupted seemed to bounce off his unshakeable composure.

When he reached the podium's center, his steel-gray eyes swept across the packed auditorium. The effect was immediate and absolute—every whisper died, every shuffle ceased.

His voice carried effortlessly through the silence. "I appreciate the gracious invitation from today's organizers."

What followed was vintage Malcolm Blair. No wasted words, no empty pleasantries. He dissected the expo's featured innovations with surgical precision, acknowledging breakthrough technologies while offering critiques that would reshape entire product lines. When representatives raised questions from the floor, his responses were sharp and definitive.

The hunger in the audience was palpable. Everyone wanted their moment with the man who could make or break careers with a single recommendation. But thirty minutes was all they would get.

As Malcolm descended from the stage, he moved toward the VIP section where conference organizers had reserved his seat. The ritual began immediately—every executive in the front rows rose like synchronized marionettes, hands extended, desperate for even the briefest acknowledgment.

Those relegated to the back sections, particularly the technical teams, watched with barely concealed resentment.

Cullen occupied one of the coveted seats adjacent to Malcolm's designated spot. As the tech mogul approached, Cullen rose with practiced ease.

Niall, seated beside Cullen, followed suit, her pulse quickening.

Cullen stepped forward first, his hand extended with confident familiarity. "Malcolm, it's been too long."

The acknowledgment of their shared history wasn't lost on nearby observers. Cullen wasn't just another face in the crowd—he had access to the untouchable Malcolm Blair.

Malcolm's expression remained unchanged, though his handshake was firm. "Indeed it has."

More than a decade had passed since their last encounter. Malcolm's notorious coldness wasn't personal—it was simply his default setting, applied equally to business partners and protégés alike.

Niall seized her opportunity. "Mr. Blair, I'm Niall Crystal. This is truly an honor."

Malcolm's gaze shifted to her, taking her measure in a single glance. His nod was barely perceptible before he offered a brief, professional handshake. He moved on to acknowledge the other hovering executives before finally settling into his seat.

The social choreography continued around him. The prominent CEO to Malcolm's left immediately launched into animated conversation, clearly relishing his proximity to the industry titan.

Malcolm's responses were characteristically minimal—a nod here, a brief comment there. His attention seemed split between the ongoing presentations and whatever calculations were running through his analytical mind.

Cullen sat in comfortable silence, appearing genuinely interested in the speakers rather than the celebrity beside him.

This puzzled Niall immensely. Here was Cullen, with direct access to one of the most influential figures in their field, and he was acting like they were strangers.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. "Did something happen between you and Mr. Blair?"

Cullen's smile held secrets. "Nothing dramatic."

"But then why aren't you—"

The opportunity was extraordinary. People would sacrifice significant career capital just for five minutes of Malcolm Blair's attention. Yet Cullen sat there as if the man beside him was just another conference attendee.

She had briefly considered asking Cullen to switch seats, positioning herself for direct conversation with Malcolm. But the tech mogul was deep in discussion with the CEO beside him—a man whose influence rivaled Malcolm's in certain circles. Interrupting their exchange to make her own introductions would be career suicide.

The moment passed, and Niall remained in her seat.

Then Cullen spoke again, his tone casual but weighted. "He doesn't consider me worth his time."

The words hit Niall like a physical blow. "What did you say?"

But Cullen's expression remained serene, almost amused. If Malcolm Blair truly dismissed him, how could he sit there so calmly? The contradiction made no sense.

Cullen offered no further explanation, and Niall knew better than to push. Some stories revealed themselves in their own time.

As the conference wound toward its conclusion, a new buzz began circulating through the crowd. Word was spreading quickly, passed from row to row in excited whispers.

Malcolm Blair wasn't leaving immediately after the conference ended. He would be staying in the city, at least for tonight.