His Regret

Liam's POV

I wasn't sure she was the one. We had arrived a few minutes after the opening ceremony, and I was stunned when I saw her from behind.

When she turned, something tugged at my heart. Gosh, she looked completely different—almost unrecognizable from the Olivia I knew four years ago. Her skin was lighter, her brows perfectly shaped, and her figure was stunning. But what was she doing at such a grand event? Or did she come with someone?

"And who are you?" she asked, jolting me out of my thoughts. Did she not recognize me, or was she just pretending?

"It's me, Liam. Are you pretending not to know me?" I asked, a bit perplexed as she looked me over from head to toe. My heart sank. I scanned myself quickly, trying to figure out if something was off about my appearance after a rough day.

"I don't know you, and please, don't ever stand in my way again," she snapped, turning to leave. I instinctively grabbed her hand, feeling utterly broken by her reaction.

"I'm so sorry for everything I did in the past. Please forgive me. I realize now how cruel I was. Please, I…."

"Get your filthy hands off me this instant!" she exclaimed, yanking her hand from my grip. By now, we had already created a scene. But I didn't care. What mattered most was for her to at least acknowledge she knew me before I could apologize. Deep down, I felt she was putting on a front, but I couldn't understand how she had changed from the calm, caring woman I once knew to someone so fierce and cold.

"I don't know who you are, for heaven's sake! Stop causing a scene here," she blurted angrily as she walked away. I felt like a fool standing in the middle of everyone as they watched, reporters already snapping photos and gathering juicy stories. I knew the outcome wouldn't be good.

I tried to follow her, but the murmurs from the crowd were too loud to ignore.

"Look at this billionaire making a fool of himself over this woman, just because she's influential. Pathetic."

"He deserves this. I heard he hurt her badly in the past."

"Do you think she knows who he is?"

"Of course, she does. She's his ex, the one he abandoned years ago."

"Is that why she mentioned her son, Jumia, being her source of joy?"

"Heartbreaking. I feel sorry for her. He deserves everything she's dishing out."

"Serves him right. Billionaires like him think the world revolves around them. Look at how far she's come without his help."

"Poor thing."

That was enough. The murmurs continued to grow, and I clutched my chest, turning on my heels to leave the auditorium, feeling utterly devastated.

Leaning against the car, I buried my head in my arms, consumed by regret. I never thought my actions would lead to this. Her coldness hurt me deeply, and I doubted if I could recover from the shock.

The murmurs replayed in my head. "She has a son? And she's the owner of The Berks Hospital?" I muttered to myself, still in shock. It's only been four years, and she's achieved all this? I couldn't comprehend it. But one thing was painfully clear: she hadn't forgotten the past. A pang of dread hit me; what if the child they mentioned wasn't mine?

My thoughts were in turmoil. I couldn't come to any concrete conclusion. It was all too shocking.

"Sir, are you alright?" Peter's concerned voice broke through my thoughts. I lifted my head, realizing the reporters were already closing in.

"Sir, what do you have to say about what just happened?" one of them asked. I opened the car door, got in, and shut it behind me.

Inside the car, my frustration boiled over. I couldn't believe I had gotten caught up in such a mess. Dominic would be thrilled to see this on the news—a chance to tarnish my image and gain favor with Dad. The thought of Olivia and the confrontation that would soon play on the news haunted me, and I groaned in agony, clenching my fists.

*****

The Next Day

"Sir, the car is ready," Peter announced as he entered the office.

I looked up to see his bowed head. A flicker of annoyance crossed my face; I wasn't in the mood for his antics today. Yesterday's events were still fresh in my mind, and it took all my strength to show up at work.

"Alright, I'll be there soon," I replied, eyes glued to my computer screen as he walked out.

I finished up quickly, closed the laptop, grabbed my briefcase, and headed out to the car. I had a scheduled meeting with the school's staff in ten minutes, and I knew they were already seated, waiting for my arrival. They all knew better than to walk in after I'd taken my seat.

We soon arrived at the school, and the car came to a stop in the parking lot. As I stepped out and approached the entrance, the noise from the field suggested the kids were on a break—likely playing games.

As I passed by the open field, a ball rolled near my feet. A young boy ran over to pick it up. When he looked up to apologize, he froze, seemingly stunned.

"I met you again, mister. What are you doing here? Do you have a child at this school?" he asked.

 I was equally shocked to see him again, especially at my school. There was something about this child that lingered in my mind since the previous day. I had hoped to see him again, and here he was. He seemed new because I hadn't noticed him before.

I was about to respond when the instructor called out.

"Jumia, what are you doing? Get back over here!"

"Alright, ma'am," he shouted, turning to leave but then glanced back. "I knew I'd see you again."

I watched him walk back, and Peter, who stood beside me, looked just as surprised.

"Sir, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked.

"What's on your mind?" I replied.

"The instructor called him Jumia, and from what people were saying yesterday, the woman you confronted also has a son named Jumia."

My heart sank, and my eyes widened. There was only one way to find out if it was true...