The Billionaire's Pitchers Regret

Chapter twoMartina POV Five years laterMy phone beeped, and I didn’t want to pick it up. It was my landlord—my house rent would expire soon. Immediately the call dropped, another notification popped up on my phone. The electricity bill had been cut off because of the little money I was supposed to send to the caregiver taking care of my mother.The surgery was successful, but it resulted in the complete loss of her leg. According to the doctors, the tumor had spread. While trying to save her, they realized it was either she died or remained in a wheelchair. I chose for my mother to live, even if it meant she would be on a wheelchair.It was so difficult that I couldn’t even go back to school. I had to drop out. Since then, I’ve been working part-time—food delivery and anything I could find—just to take care of her.I couldn’t save any money at all.A few days ago, I heard they needed a janitor in a big company in the city. The payment was mouth-watering and could save me from runni

Chapter fourMartina POV “Tell me why you’ve been moody. You didn’t even tell me about your job interview. Did you get it?” Vera asked, and I took a long, deep breath.“That bastard owns the company,” I said.“Which bastard? The guy who tried to molest you and you beat up?” she asked.I shook my head. “No.”“Bruno,” I said quietly.“Wait—you mean your ex? That bastard baseball pitcher?” she shouted, and I nodded.“What the fuck?” she exclaimed, rubbing her head. Then she looked at me. “I thought he wanted to be a baseball pitcher all his life. When did he suddenly become a CEO?”I stared at her. “Is that question for me?”She sighed when she realized. “I guess he must have left his sunshine, then.”I shook my head again. “They’re still together. She’s even a director in the company. They’re getting married soon—she bragged about it. And he even had the nerve to pretend he didn’t know me.”“Such a terrible day for you,” she said angrily. “I wish I was there—I would have knocked out on

Chapter SixMartina’s POV“Make sure you don’t come late,” Miss Lily repeats, already turning to leave.Her heels click sharply against the tiled floor, fading into the quiet hum of the office. I remain frozen, staring down at the card in my hand as if it might disappear if I blink.A job card.My name printed neatly on it.I swallow hard.I can’t believe this is real.Miracles like this don’t happen to people like me… do they?For a long moment, I just stand there, my fingers tightening around the card. The edges press into my skin, grounding me, reminding me that this isn’t a dream.A secretary job.Not delivery.Not rushing through traffic under the scorching sun.Not carrying packages that aren’t mine to people who don’t even look me in the eye.This… is different.This is a real job.I slowly step out of the office building and pause just outside the glass doors, tilting my head back to take in the towering structure. The company isn’t small—not even close. The polished exterior

Chapter EightMartina’s POVI stare at my reflection in the mirror for what feels like the tenth time.Maybe more.The girl looking back at me doesn’t feel like me.The outfit—borrowed from Vera just yesterday—fits well enough, but it’s not mine. The fabric feels unfamiliar against my skin, stiff in places, too proper… too polished. Corporate.I smooth down the front again, tugging slightly at the hem, adjusting the sleeves like that might somehow make me belong in it.I don’t have anything like this.Never did.A small breath escapes me.“Just one day,” I whisper under my breath. “You just have to get through one day.”My eyes flick to the clock.5: 35 a.m.My heart skips.I’m late.Panic shoots through me as I grab my bag, quickly running my fingers through my hair one last time. I woke up late—too late—and everything since then has been rushed, messy, unsteady.Not how I wanted my first day to start.I take one final look at myself.Then I turn and step out of the room.The faint s

Chapter TenMartina’s POV The address leads me to a part of the city I’ve never stepped foot in before.I walk faster, clutching the suitcase in one hand and the card in the other, my eyes scanning every building number I pass. My heels click against the pavement, each step echoing my racing thoughts.Don’t be late, don’t mess this up.Finally, I stop.This is it.A tall glass building rises in front of me, its reflective surface gleaming under the morning sun. People move in and out of it like they belong—confident, composed, important.I swallow. Then step inside.The cool air-conditioning hits me instantly, sending a slight chill through my body. The lobby is massive, spotless, intimidating. My reflection flashes briefly on the marble floor, reminding me again that I don’t quite fit here.I walk up to the reception desk.“Good morning,” I say, trying to sound steady. “I’m here to see—” I quickly glance at the card. “—Mr. Collins.”The receptionist looks up, her expression professi