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The Billionaire's Regret; Now He Desperately Wants Her Back. 72
Epilogue.Few Years LaterThe morning light spills through the kitchen window, soft as a sigh, painting the countertops in hues of apricot and gold. I’m barefoot, as always, the cool tiles grounding me as I pour coffee into two mismatched mugs, one chipped from a clumsy moment years ago, the other a gift from Kelvin, painted with lopsided stars. The house smells of cinnamon and fresh laundry, a quiet symphony of the life we’ve built.Kelvin, bounds down the stairs, his guitar slung over his shoulder like a faithful companion. He’s taller than me now, his curls wilder, his grin still carrying that spark of mischief. “Mom, I’m late for band practice!” he calls, snatching an apple from the bowl.“Shoes!” I call back, pointing to the sneakers abandoned by the door.He groans but complies, tossing me a lopsided smile. “Love you, Mom. Tell Dad I’ll be back for dinner!”The door slams behind him, and the house settles into its familiar hum. I glance at the wall, where a new photo has joined
The Billionaire's Regret; Now He Desperately Wants Her Back. 71
POV: Emerald The party was already in full swing when I stepped onto the patio.Laughter rose like music—soft, unforced, genuine. It curled into the air like incense, mingling with the scent of grilled meat and lemon verbena from the garden hedge. Golden string lights floated overhead like captured stars, their glow brushing every face with warmth. The long table was brimming with things I didn’t have to make—platters of roasted vegetables, herb-stuffed chicken, three kinds of cake. Flowers I hadn’t arranged bloomed from vases like joy in full color. And people... people I once couldn’t imagine being this much a part of my healing, now lived like branches in the tree of my peace.I stepped further out, my dress brushing against my ankles, barefoot on the warm stone. It didn’t feel like just another summer evening. It felt like the answer to a prayer I didn’t even know how to form ten years ago.A flash of movement—tiny sneakers and loud giggles.Kelvin tore across the patio, a crooke
The Billionaire's Regret; Now He Desperately Wants Her Back. 70
POV: Emerald The vineyard was quiet, wrapped in lavender dusk.Golden vines stretched over rolling hills, catching the late sun in their folds. There were no camera flashes, no screaming guests, no lavish spectacle. Just rows of chairs on soft grass, white petals scattered by the breeze, and a soft violin playing in the distance.It was perfect.Because it was Matthew.I arrived just before the ceremony began. Sat near the back. No attention drawn, just a quiet nod from a few familiar faces. Michael sat beside me, his fingers interlaced with mine. Kelvin, restless in his small suit, perched between us, legs swinging.Matthew hadn’t seen me yet.But when he stepped out beneath the old wooden arch, his eyes searched the crowd. And when they landed on mine, something passed between us—a breath, a memory, a farewell.He smiled.Not the smile he used to wear when he was trying to be enough.But one that said: I am.His bride, Elodie, wore a dress that floated. Her smile was a soft sunrise
The Billionaire's Regret; Now He Desperately Wants Her Back. 69
POV: Emerald It came in a plain white envelope.No return address.Just my name, written in a hand I hadn’t seen in years—angular, careful, familiar in the way something poisonous becomes when you’ve survived it.I didn’t open it at first.I placed it on my desk, beside my planner and the vase of peonies Michael brought me from the market. For three days, I let it sit there. I’d glance at it sometimes, in between meetings or on my way to bed, and each time I’d think: Not today.Until one morning, when the city was still soft with fog, and the house was quiet except for the hum of the espresso machine, I picked it up.I carried it to the balcony.I sat.And I opened it.—Emerald,I know I am the last person you ever expected—or wanted—to hear from. And that’s why I waited. Until the noise quieted. Until the headlines changed. Until your peace had room to breathe.But I write now because truth, even late, is still a kind of debt we owe.I was cruel to you.At first, it was jealousy. N
The Billionaire's Regret; Now He Desperately Wants Her Back. 68
POV: Emerald Tuscany wasn’t part of the original plan.But after three days in the cabin, tucked beneath pines and wrapped in quiet, Michael looked at me over morning tea and said, “What if we let the next chapter write itself somewhere warm?”And I said yes.So we packed light, left our phones on airplane mode, and landed in Florence with no itinerary, just each other and a journal filled with places we might want to see.Our villa sat on a hillside, wrapped in vines, framed by olive trees that swayed like they had been whispering secrets to the wind for centuries. The air smelled like earth and lemon blossoms, and the sky each morning opened like a soft invitation.We weren’t tourists. We were two people reclaiming time.—We made love that first night with the windows open. Slow. Reverent. No rush. The kind of closeness that makes you forget you were ever afraid of being seen.He kissed the inside of my wrist like it held history.I whispered his name like a prayer.We didn’t need
The Billionaire's Regret; Now He Desperately Wants Her Back. 67
POV: Emerald The celebration carried on behind us—music, laughter, clinking glasses, the sound of heels against marble and the occasional roar of Kelvin’s giggle as he danced like the floor belonged to him.But we slipped away.Michael and I.Through the side doors of the conservatory, past the hedges where the roses were just beginning to close for the night, and into the garden lit by nothing but moonlight and strings of soft, amber bulbs.I kicked off my heels halfway down the stone path.He reached for my hand without a word.And we walked until the music felt like a dream in another room.There was a bench beneath the big elm tree—our tree. The one we’d sat beneath when we toured the venue months ago and knew, somehow, it would hold a part of our story.He sat first. I curled beside him, knees tucked, my head on his shoulder.The stars were everywhere.And for a moment, we just breathed.No speeches.No vows.No eyes on us.Just stillness.“I didn’t think I’d make it here,” I sa
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