THE BILLIONAIRE'S GREATEST REGRET: He Called Her Fat, Now He

Chapter 1

“Mom, are you really sure he’s going to show up?” Iris’s voice had a hollow, heavy ache that no ten-year-old should ever have to carry.

As Riley ran the brush through her daughter's dark curls, the strands slipped from her fingers.

Today was Iris's golden birthday, a day that should have filled the room with bubbles and effortless, bright laughter.

Instead, looking at the little girl through the vanity mirror felt like watching a small flower wilt under a winter chill.

Her daughter had grown up too fast, adapting far too early to the harsh architecture of a family that didn’t want them.

Riley forced her lips into a practiced, reassuring curve, though the lie tasted bitter on her tongue. “Of course he is, sweetheart. It’s your birthday.”

“But it’s past seven,” Iris whispered, twisting the fabric of her birthday dress until her knuckles turned white.

“The party downstairs is practically over. Everyone was waiting for the cake, and… and I made a bet with my friends. I told them Daddy loves me. They said he didn’t, but I tried to make them understand. Now they’re all laughing.” A sharp, physical pain flared in Riley’s chest.

She dropped to her knees, taking her daughter's small, trembling hands in her own.

“Don’t say that, Iris. Look at me. Your dad loves you so much. He’s just… he’s probably stuck in traffic, or caught up with something important at work.”

Iris didn’t argue. She just looked at her mother with glassy, devastatingly wise eyes, accepting the comforting words because she simply didn’t have the strength to fight it.

When they finally walked downstairs, the reality of the situation hit Riley hard on the chest.

The grand dining hall, once filled with streamers and music, was dead silent. The few remaining guests, mostly judgmental extended family members, were whispering, their eyes darting to the mother and daughter with a mix of pity and poorly hidden satisfaction.

At the center of the room sat Fredrick’s mother, Evelyn, and his sister, Beatrice. Riley felt a sudden, suffocating self-consciousness as she instinctively adjusted the waist of her dress—a piece she had spent hours choosing, hoping to look presentable for once.

“A golden birthday and the father can’t even bother to show his face,” Evelyn murmured loudly, swirling the champagne in her glass as she looked at Riley with pure disdain.

“Well, what did you expect, Mother?” Beatrice sneered, her eyes scanning Riley from head to toe with a cruel, mocking smile.

“Look at her. Some clothes are meant to drape beautifully on a woman, not stretch for dear life. You’d think she’d know her limits by now, but she insists on squeezing into things clearly meant for a completely different size category.” Evelyn let out a dry, sarcastic chuckle.

“It’s a tragedy, really. But then again, this whole farce of a marriage is her karma. She forced her way into this family, trapsing around like she belonged here.

Did she honestly think our Fredrick would ever genuinely want to be with someone like her? A man of his caliber needs a real woman, not… this.”

“Exactly,” Beatrice chimed in, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “You can force a ring on your finger but you can’t force a man to love a woman he finds repulsive. This humiliation is exactly what she deserves.”

The cruel comments buzzed in Riley’s ears, stinging with every word. Her blood boiled, and a fierce, protective instinct flared inside her.

She didn't care what they thought of her body or her wardrobe, but she refused to let them dissect her daughter’s heartbreak like a spectacle.

“The party is over,” she announced. Her voice cut through the murmurs with a cold, absolute authority she didn't know she possessed. “Thank you all for coming. Please, clear the room. Let's leave.”

Ignoring the sharp glares from her mother-in-law and sister-in-law, she began ushering the lingering guests out, sweeping through the room like a quiet storm. Within minutes, the room was empty, leaving only the remnants of uneaten cake and deflating balloons.

Then, the heavy front doors swung open.

Fredrick walked in, loosening his tie, his expression radiating irritation rather than remorse. He didn’t look like a man who had missed his daughter's milestone birthday; he looked like a man who had been mildly inconvenienced by a minor chore.

Iris’s eyes lit up with a tragic, desperate hope. “Daddyl! You made it!” She took a step toward him, her small hands reaching out.

Fredrick stopped dead in his tracks and looked down at the little girl with a sneer, his voice cutting through the quiet room like a whip.

“Don’t look at me like that, and wipe that pathetic expression off your face. You’re an eyesore.” Iris flinched as if she’d been physically struck, her small shoulders collapsing instantly.

Riley’s heart dropped, the insult cutting through her. But looking at her daughter's trembling frame, her first instinct was protection. She gently placed a hand on Iris's shoulder, leaning down to speak in a quiet tone.

"Iris, sweetie, go upstairs to your room. Mummy will come with cake soon."

Iris looked up at her mother, her eyes wide and brimming with tears, but she didn't protest.

She turned and hurried up the grand staircase, the soft padding of her shoes fading away until the heavy click of her bedroom door echoed from above.

Only when Riley was absolutely certain her daughter was out of earshot did she turn back to Fredrick. The last thread of her patience snapped, and she stepped squarely into his space, her hands trembling with an overwhelming, protective rage.

“Don’t you dare speak to her like that, Fredrick!" Riley's voice shook, thick with hours of suppressed humiliation. "She has been sitting here for hours waiting for you. You promised her, the least you could have done was keep your words to your daughter!”

Fredrick let out a harsh, mocking laugh that echoed unpleasantly against the high ceilings.

He looked at Riley, his gaze traveling lazily down her body, his lips curling into a disgusted, sarcastic smirk.

“Oh, look at you, getting all worked up,” he mocked, stepping back slightly to take her in.

“And what an exquisite choice of attire for the occasion. Tell me, did the fabric store run out of material, or did you honestly believe that dress was meant for a silhouette like yours? It’s practically screaming for mercy. You look ridiculous.”

Riley swallowed hard, the sting of his words pressing against her chest, but she refused to back down. “This isn’t about me, Fredrick! It’s about Iris!”

“Why on earth would I be here for her?” Fredrick said, his voice instantly dropping the mock-amusement and dripping with pure venom.

“She’s not my child. If she wants a father to celebrate her birthday, she should go look for her real dad.”

The room seemed to tilt. The air left Riley's lungs in a sharp gasp, and a sickening numbness crawled up her spine. Her mind scrambled, trying to process the absolute absurdity of his words.

“What… what are you talking about?” Riley whispered, her voice shaking violently. “Fredrick, stop this madness. What do you mean?”

Fredrick stepped closer, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure malice as he delivered the final, devastating blow.

“What I mean, Riley, is that you didn't just manage to squeeze your fat self into my family and take my surname,” he hissed, his face inches from hers.

“You also brought your bastard child into my house and expected me to be her father.”