Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle-Chapter 192: Do You Regret It?

The message hadn’t contained a name. It never did. Just a time, a location, and a line that didn’t ask for confirmation. It assumed he would show up. Dominic had read it once, then again — not because he didn’t understand it, but because he wanted to be sure of what he already knew. The tone hadn’t changed in five years. Neither had the intent behind it.

The hotel wasn’t one he would have chosen. It sat between districts, not high-profile, not run-down — the kind of place where people made temporary decisions and left without anyone remembering them. The lobby smelled like polished wood and something artificial underneath it. No one looked up when he walked in.

He didn’t stop at the front desk. He walked past it like someone who already knew where he was going, eyes moving across the lobby out of habit. The elevator came right away. He stepped in, pressed the button, and let the doors close.

The ride was short. Long enough to think, not long enough to turn back.

The hallway was empty when the doors opened. The lighting was flat and even, the kind that leaves no real shadows but somehow makes a space feel wrong anyway. He walked down it without hesitating.

The room number had been in the message. The door was already unlocked.

Dominic paused for half a second before pushing it open and stepping inside.

The room was dark except for one lamp and a thin line of city light coming through the curtains. Just enough to see by.

Someone was already there. Sitting. Waiting.

Dominic closed the door behind him. His eyes adjusted fast. He took in the layout — the furniture, what was there, what wasn’t. The figure sat without moving, relaxed in a way that said they owned the space even if they were only borrowing it.

"You didn’t need to involve me again," Dominic said. He didn’t move further into the room. He didn’t sit.

The figure didn’t answer right away.

"You came anyway," the voice said. Calm. No rush in it.

"That doesn’t mean I needed to."

The figure leaned back. The lamp caught part of their profile but not enough to read clearly.

"You’ve always understood the difference," the voice said.

Dominic didn’t answer that.

"That was five years ago," he said.

"You did what was necessary," the voice replied.

Necessary. The word sat there.

"I did my part." No pride in it. No regret either.

The figure tilted their head. "Did you?"

Dominic’s eyes sharpened. "That wasn’t a partial outcome. You got what you wanted."

The figure moved — small, just one hand lifting off the armrest and settling again, posture leaning forward an inch.

"What I wanted," the voice said, "was a beginning."

Dominic said nothing. He knew what that meant.

"You’re here now," the figure said. "So it didn’t end there."

"You didn’t call me here to talk about what happened five years ago."

"No," the voice agreed. "I didn’t."

The figure looked at him more directly.

"Do you regret it?"

Dominic didn’t answer. He didn’t move. He didn’t look away. He just held the silence until it said enough on its own.

The figure watched him. Then leaned back.

"I thought you might," the voice said.

Dominic’s gaze didn’t move. "You’ve already made your point. The images."

A pause. Then:

"They did what they were supposed to do," the figure said.

"They weren’t accessible," Dominic said.

"Accessible is a matter of who you ask."

"The timing wasn’t random."

"No," the figure agreed. "It wasn’t."

"They needed to be seen."

Dominic let that sit. The event. The exposure. The sequence. It was too exact to be accidental.

"This wasn’t one move," he said.

The figure didn’t disagree.

"It’s never just one move," the voice said. "She needs to be visible before anything else can happen to her."

There it was. The first real direction.

Dominic exhaled. "What do you want from me now?"

"Nothing."

He waited.

"Not yet."

"You’re in a position where you can watch," the figure said. "That’s enough for now."

"For now," Dominic repeated.

The figure didn’t correct him.

Dominic nodded once. Not agreement. Not refusal. Just acknowledgment.

He turned and walked back to the door. His hand rested on the handle for a moment before he spoke.

"You should be more careful with your timing," he said, without looking back. "Patterns are easy to spot."

The figure didn’t respond. Dominic didn’t wait.

He opened the door and stepped out, pulling it closed behind him.

The hallway was the same as when he’d walked down it. He went back the way he came. The elevator arrived. He got in. The doors closed.

The lobby was the same too. The same smell. The same surfaces. The same people who didn’t look up.

Outside, the city was doing what it always did.

Diana was on the sofa when he got home. The television was already on.

The news segment was running a loop — campaign shots, event clips, photos layered over each other in quick cuts. Arianne’s face came up again and again. Noah Hart appeared beside her in several frames. Analysts talked over it. The same images, the same questions, the same answers that weren’t really answers.

Diana wasn’t watching it the way you watched something you’d just turned on. Her posture was too set for that, too fixed. She’d been sitting there for a while.

She didn’t look at him right away.

"You’ve seen it," she said. Not a question.

Dominic set his keys down and moved further into the room. He didn’t sit. Didn’t go toward her.

"Everyone’s seen it," he replied.

Diana’s eyes moved to him then. Not all the way, just enough.

"That’s not what I asked."

Dominic kept his face even. "I know it’s out there."

Diana’s fingers pressed into the fabric of the sofa. A small movement.

"Aware," she repeated. Flat.

She turned her head fully then and looked at him straight on.

"She’s back," Diana said.

Dominic didn’t answer right away. He looked at the television instead.

Arianne’s face filled the screen. Clear. The same as it had always been.

"It doesn’t change anything," he said.

Diana looked at him for another moment. Then she turned back to the screen.

She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to. The silence between them said it anyway.

On the television, the segment looped again. Arianne. Noah. The same images.

Dominic stood where he was.

Do you regret it?

He hadn’t answered it in that room.

He didn’t answer it now.