Too Late 8

Chapter 8 

He didn’t sleep that night. 

Not a minute. 

River sat on the edge of their bed, surrounded by torn divorce papers, Allison’s ring still clenched tightly in his fist. His phone rested on his lap, screen lighting up every few seconds as he typed another desperate message. 

Where are you? Allison, please, talk to me. What did I do? Please, let’s fix this. I know you’re no cheating, right? This was all a mistake to get my attention. You have it now. So come back 

Answer me. 

Call after call. No answer. Just silence. 

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His pride had vanished hours ago, replaced by an ache he didn’ know he was capable of feeling. Wasn’t this what he wanted? For her to leave, to be free so he could chase Candice again? 

Then why the hell did it feel like his chest was being carved open? 

“Allison…” he murmured again, head falling into his hands. 

Enough. 

He stood abruptly and called his men. 

“I want every CCTV in the city checked. Traffic cams. ATM cams. Airports. Train stations Everywhere. Find Allison. I want to know who she was with, where she’s gone, everything.” 

His voice was sharp. Dangerous. 

He’d find her. Even if he had to turn the whole city upside down. 

Several hours later, a report came in. 

A name. 

Denver Reyes. 

River’s memory jolted. 

That guy. 

The one she said was “just a friend.” The one he’d brushed off like nothing. But now… now he remembered seeing her smile in photos she thought he didn’t know about. Seeing her laugh with him at that coffee shop a few weeks ago. He hadn’t cared then. But now? 

Now, it burned. 

And River Brown never burned. 

He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the house, rage pulsing like venom through his veins. He didn’t even wait for his driver. He drove himself, recklessly fast, tires screeching as he turned toward the one place he knew Denver owned-The Glass Ember, a bar tucked away in the heart of downtown. 

It was past midnight, but the bar was still alive-music thumping, people laughing, unaware that a storm had just walked in. 

River pushed the doors open, the warmth of the bar clashing against his icy presence. He 

spotted Denver almost instantly behind the counter, pouring drinks and laughing with two 

customers. 

River marched straight to him. 

“Where is she?” he barked. 

Denver glanced at him, confused. “Wait… who are you talking about?” 

“Allison,” River snapped. “My wife. Where is she? Where are you hiding her?” 

The entire bar seemed to quiet just enough to catch the tension. Conversations dipped, glasses stopped clinking. 

Denver straightened, jaw tensing. “Excuse me?” 

River leaned closer, fury in every syllable. “Are you her man? The one she’s been cheating on m with? Is that it? You’re the reason she left me?” 

Denver blinked, stunned-then scoffed. 

‘Allison is my friend. And you?” he said, voice rising. “Who the hell are you to act like you care 

now?” 

‘I’m her husband!” River shouted. 

Gasps rippled through the bar. 

Several heads turned, whispers spreading fast. 

A woman near the back whispered, “So it’s true… Allison was telling the truth. She is River Brown’s wife.” 

‘I told you she wasn’t lying,” another said. 

River barely noticed. His focus was locked on Denver. 

‘I’m not playing games,” River growled. “Tell me where she is.” 

Denver folded his arms. “No. I won’t.” 

River’s fists clenched. “What did you say?” 

‘I said you don’t deserve to know. You don’t deserve her. You’ve been hurting her for years. And i you’re finally realizing you screwed up, that’s your karma-not her responsibility.” 

That was it. 

River’s control snapped. 

He lunged across the counter and punched Denver square in the jaw. 

The room exploded in chaos. People screamed. Glass shattered. Denver tackled River to the ground, fists flying. River returned every blow with a fury he hadn’t felt in years—rage, guilt, grief, all wrapped into one. 

They didn’t stop until sirens wailed outside and the bar staff pulled them apart, both bloodied and bruised. The last thing River remembered was the flashing lights of the ambulance and someone shouting his name before everything faded into black. 

He woke to the sterile scent of antiseptic and the beeping of a heart monitor. 

His head throbbed. His lip was split. His right eye was swollen. 

“Where…?” he murmured, disoriented. 

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A figure stood by his hospital bed. 

Blonde hair. 

Familiar perfume. 

“Candice,” he whispered. 

She smiled, brushing hair from his face. “You’re finally awake.” 

But River didn’t smile back. 

Because seeing her didn’t fill the void inside him. 

It didn’t quiet the ache in his chest. 

Instead, it made it worse. 

He turned his head away, lips trembling, voice hoarse with something unfamiliar. 

“Allison…” 

It slipped out before he could stop it. 

Candice flinched. Her hand froze on his arm. 

He didn’t even look at her. 

Because all he could think about was Allison. 

Her laugh. Her tears. Her silence. 

Her absence. 

She was gone. And she might not come back. 

And for the first time in River Brown’s life-he knew what regret truly felt like. 

C