His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 582 Mistake

When Dominique emerged from the tree line with Hazel on his back, the scene at the resort entrance stopped everyone cold.

His three-piece suit was rumpled now, his jacket unbuttoned, tie long gone, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. His perfect hair was a mess, dark strands falling across his forehead. He looked nothing like the perfect model who had walked into the wedding hours ago.

Hazel clung to his back, her arms wrapped around his neck, her wedding dress pooling around them both. Her heels dangled from one of her hands, useless and forgotten. Her scarred cheek rested near his shoulder, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion.

A small crowd had gathered in the main hall. Hazel’s parents, Jenna and Kevin, their faces pale with worry. Nicolas stood nearby, his wrist bandaged, his expression a mix of guilt and something uglier. His parents, Valeria and Richard, hovered awkwardly to the side, looking like they would rather be anywhere else. Leo and Bella were there too, Leo’s arm around Bella, both watching with sharp eyes. Lina and Alessandro stood slightly apart, their faces unreadable. Even Rika had appeared, her arms crossed, glaring at Nicolas like she wanted to set him on fire.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

Everyone turned as Dominique walked in, Hazel still on his back, her dress trailing behind them.

The silence stretched.

Then Nicolas’s face twisted.

His eyes went from confused to jealous to furious in the space of three seconds. His jaw clenched, his bandaged hand curling into a fist.

"I’m standing here feeling guilty, drowning in shame," his voice dripped with bitter sarcasm, "and you’re out there enjoying a romantic time with this... this disgusting guy?"

Dominique ignored him completely.

He walked past Nicolas like he wasn’t even there, his focus entirely on Hazel. Carefully, he crouched down, letting her slide off his back onto a nearby couch. He made sure she was settled before straightening up, rolling one shoulder where it had grown stiff from carrying her.

Hazel’s face had gone completely blank. The mask was back, not the physical one, but the emotional one. Walls up. Feelings locked away.

Nicolas wasn’t done.

He stormed toward Dominique, grabbed a handful of his rumpled shirt collar, and yanked him close.

"Who do you think you are?" Nicolas spat, his face inches from Dominique’s. "Carrying my fiancée like some hero? She’s mine. Do you understand? Mine."

Dominique didn’t struggle. Didn’t push back. He just looked at Nicolas with an expression of calm disgust, like he was observing a particularly pathetic insect.

"Yours?" Dominique’s voice was quiet and flat. "You called her ugly. You slept with someone else. You laughed about her trust." He tilted his head slightly. "She was never yours. She was just something you thought you owned."

Nicolas’s face went red.

Behind them, Kevin took a step forward, but Jenna held him back with a hand on his arm. Her eyes were fixed on her daughter, watching for any sign of how Hazel was handling this.

Leo didn’t move, but his gray eyes had gone cold and dangerous.

Bella pressed closer to him, her hand finding his.

Nicolas’s grip tightened on Dominique’s collar. "You don’t know anything. You’re just Leo’s assistant. A pretty face with nothing upstairs. She doesn’t care about you."

Dominique smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.

"She doesn’t have to care about me," he said quietly. "I just needed her to know someone cared about her. That’s the difference between us."

For a moment, Nicolas looked like he might actually throw a punch.

Then—

"Nicolas."

Hazel’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Everyone turned.

She was still sitting on the couch, still pale, still scarred. But her eyes, those electric blue eyes, were fixed on Nicolas with a cold, terrifying calm.

"Let him go."

Nicolas hesitated.

"Now."

His hands dropped.

Dominique stepped back, straightening his rumpled shirt, utterly unbothered.

Hazel rose slowly from the couch, her bare feet silent against the floor. She walked toward Nicolas, deliberate and slow.

When she reached him, she stopped. Looked up at his face. The face she’d almost married. The face that had whispered lies in her ear.

"You don’t get to be jealous," she said softly. "You don’t get to be angry. You lost that right the moment you touched someone else and called me ugly."

Nicolas opened his mouth.

"Don’t." Her voice sharpened. "Don’t say another word. Not to me. Not to him. Not to anyone here."

He closed it.

Hazel turned away from him like he was nothing. Walked toward Dominique.

She stopped in front of him.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For carrying me. For..." She swallowed. "For everything."

Dominique’s hard expression softened. "Anytime."

Behind them, Nicolas stood frozen, his world breaking, watching the woman he’d thrown away look at another man like he was something precious.

No one moved to comfort him. No one spoke for him.

He was alone.

Nicolas stood there, his chest heaving, surrounded by people who looked at him like he was something stuck to the bottom of their shoes. His bandaged wrist throbbed. His pride lay in pieces on the floor.

Why wasn’t anyone understanding?

Fine. Yes. He made a mistake. A stupid mistake. A moment of weakness with that woman last night. It meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hazel was the one he wanted. The only one.

He wanted to fix this.

Marry her again. Make it right. Show her he could change.

But Leo had shouted at him. Kevin had threatened him. Even Alessandro had looked at him like he was already dead.

He’d said sorry. Multiple times. Real sorry. The kind that made his stomach hurt.

They didn’t listen.

They didn’t care.

Nicolas looked at Hazel standing near that disgusting guy. She wasn’t looking at him the way she used to. She was looking at him differently.

His jaw tightened.

He enjoyed other women, yes. He wouldn’t lie about that. Some men were built that way. But Hazel, Hazel was different. Hazel was the one he wanted to come home to. The one he wanted to wake up next to. The one he wanted to marry.

If he didn’t marry her, the guilt would eat him alive.