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Chapter Twenty-Five: Guilt
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2026-01-09 14:45:34
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The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter Twenty-Seven: New CEO
The room was already full when they arrived. Not bustling. Not loud. Just… waiting. Rows of chairs faced the long polished table at the front. Senior managers sat closer, department heads beside them, staff filling the rest of the space in quiet clusters. The air hummed with restrained curiosity, the kind that vibrates beneath skin rather than through sound. Mia stood just inside the doorway, unseen for a heartbeat. She felt it then—the weight of being back. Not as a visitor. Not as a ghost. But as something unfinished. Chris stopped beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him through her sleeve. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t need to. His presence was a steady line at her side, anchoring her where her knees threatened to soften. Grandpa Morris walked ahead. The room stilled the moment they saw him. Chairs shifted. Backs straightened. Murmurs died mid-breath. He took his place at the front without hurry, resting his palms on the table, surveying the room
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter Twenty-Six: Who Is She?
Chris came back the next morning before the sun had fully committed to the sky. The light in the apartment was pale, diffused, brushing the walls with uncertainty, as if the day itself didn’t know whether to start or stay asleep. The apartment smelled faintly of the night before—coffee, the lingering antiseptic from Mia’s hospital stay, and the subtle, almost imperceptible scent of her. He paused at the doorway, hands in his pockets, surveying the stillness that spoke louder than words ever could. Mia was on the couch, curled under the throw blanket she’d dragged there in the night. She had slept in fits, though not deeply; her body had rested, but her mind had kept moving. Waiting, counting, worrying. Chris didn’t move immediately. He let the silence stretch, letting her presence fill the room before he spoke. “You’re back,” Mia said softly, her voice still rough with disuse. “Yes,” he replied, simple, clipped. She straightened, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. “I…
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter Twenty-Five: Guilt
The drive back was quiet. Not the comfortable kind. Not the gentle kind that settles between people who know how to breathe together. This silence had edges. Rain streaked the windshield in thin, nervous lines, blurring the road ahead into something indistinct and gray. The city lights smeared like watercolors left out too long. Chris drove with both hands on the wheel, jaw tight, eyes fixed forward. Too fixed. Mia sat curled against the door, arms crossed loosely over her stomach, feeling every bump in the road like a punctuation mark she hadn’t agreed to. The car smelled faintly of coffee and leather and something else—familiar, grounding, irritatingly safe. She hated how safe she felt. Her thoughts kept circling back to the same image: Chris, standing quietly in that living room, holding twelve years of truth like it was nothing. Like it hadn’t mattered enough to say. Her chest tightened. She swallowed. Didn’t speak. Neither did he. When they pulled into the driveway, th
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter Twenty-Four: Successor
Mia didn’t answer right away. The question—Can you wait till your babies are born?—sat heavy in her chest, pressing against ribs that already felt too full. She stared at her hands. At the faint tremor she hadn’t been able to control since the hospital. At the thin silver ring she still wore out of habit more than meaning. Waiting had never been her strength. She’d always moved. Forward. Away. Through. Her grandmother didn’t rush her. Just reached over and rubbed slow circles on the back of Mia’s hand, like she used to when Mia was a child and nightmares came too fast to explain. Chris shifted in the corner of the room. Once. Stopped. He didn’t speak. He never did when it mattered most. Mia inhaled. The house smelled the same—old books, lemon polish, something warm and familiar simmering somewhere deep in memory. It felt unfair that the world could stay so intact while she’d splintered and stitched herself back together in secret. “Yes,” she said finally. The word surprised e
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter Twenty-Three: It Could Take Years
They didn’t rush her. That was the first thing she noticed. After the question hung in the air—Where have you been all these years?—no one filled the silence for her. No gentle prodding. No nervous clearing of throats. Just the steady tick of the old clock and the faint whistle of the kettle in the kitchen, like the house itself was holding its breath. Mia sat on the edge of the couch, hands folded together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. Her grandmother sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Her grandfather took the armchair opposite, cane resting across his knees, eyes fixed on her face like he was afraid it might blur again. Chris stayed near the window. Close enough. Not intruding. Always like that. Mia swallowed. Her throat felt raw, scraped hollow by years of silence. “I didn’t disappear,” she said finally. Her voice came out softer than she expected. “Not at first.” Her grandmother’s hand tightened around hers. A small encouragement. A promis
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter Twenty-Three: It Could Take Years
They didn’t rush her. That was the first thing she noticed. After the question hung in the air—Where have you been all these years?—no one filled the silence for her. No gentle prodding. No nervous clearing of throats. Just the steady tick of the old clock and the faint whistle of the kettle in the kitchen, like the house itself was holding its breath. Mia sat on the edge of the couch, hands folded together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. Her grandmother sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Her grandfather took the armchair opposite, cane resting across his knees, eyes fixed on her face like he was afraid it might blur again. Chris stayed near the window. Close enough. Not intruding. Always like that. Mia swallowed. Her throat felt raw, scraped hollow by years of silence. “I didn’t disappear,” she said finally. Her voice came out softer than she expected. “Not at first.” Her grandmother’s hand tightened around hers. A small encouragement. A promis
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