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Castle, Business, and Vibes
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2026-03-08 01:05:29
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The Billionaire's Regret would’ve, could’ve, should’ve known
The night Sebastian said he had to fly to Zurich for a board meeting. The night I had spent five years believing was one of the most blatant lies my husband had ever told me.Beside the booking timestamp was another record.Flight manifest.Sebastian Romano.Zurich.Arrival logged 19:08.Security accompaniment confirmed.I stopped.No.I went back to the first page.The date of the chat.Then the booking.Then the manifest.I started doing the math like a crazy woman with an excellent manicure. “This one…”“Yes.”“You were in Zurich.”“Yes.”“And the hotel in Milan was booked under your name that same night.”“Yes.”I looked at him. “You can fly.”“Not in eleven minutes.”His dry sarcasm didn’t even make me angry this time.I went back to reading.Next page.Paris.The security log showed Sebastian entering a private board dinner at 20:02 and leaving at 00:17.The beauty chat sent a message at 21:31.The linked desktop session was active from the office.I rubbed my fingertip across m
The Billionaire's Regret History Came With A Modification Log
Sebastian drank his own coffee.I wanted to throw a blueberry at his head.Breakfast continued under the terms of an extremely fragile international peace agreement. Poppy finished one and a half pancakes, declared the second one had “emotional damage” because it didn’t have enough syrup, then tried to feed Bunny a blueberry even though Bunny did not possess a digestive system.Salma appeared about twenty minutes later, already dressed and carrying Poppy’s little cardigan.Her eyes went to me, then the sunglasses, then Sebastian.The woman said nothing.I loved her for it.“The playroom is ready,” she told Poppy. “Security check is complete.”“Are there dolls?”“Yes.”“Kitchen?”“Yes.”“Markers?”“Washable.”Poppy immediately wrinkled her nose. “Boring.”“The permanent ones were confiscated because someone drew eyebrows on Bunny.”“That was an improvement.”Salma took her little hand. “Come on.”Poppy hopped down from the stool, then suddenly turned back, grabbed the remaining half of
The Billionaire's Regret Our Little Domestic Armistice
The knock at the door came with the rhythm of someone who had never paid taxes and therefore still had the courage to face life.Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.I opened one eye.Mistake.Morning light immediately stabbed my retina with personal hatred, and my head reminded me that last night I had cried myself to sleep with my face smashed into a pillow like the victim of a melodrama that didn’t have enough budget for a stunt double.I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head.The knocking came again. “Mommy.”I didn’t answer.“MOMMY!”No.“Mommy, I know you’re alive because the door doesn’t smell dead.”I opened my eyes under the blanket.What?“And I have a complaint.”Of course she did.I pulled the blanket down a little and stared at the ceiling. The digital clock on the nightstand read 8:17.My dignity, if my estimate was correct, had died sometime around three in the morning. No family at its bedside. Private funeral. White flowers. Cause of death: Sebastian Romano and male decis
The Billionaire's Regret One Pillow, Two Screams, Five Years Of Bullshit
My phone buzzed in my hand.I looked down.Hazel.Hazel: [I don’t like it when you go quiet.]A small laugh slipped out of me. It sounded terrible. Dry and ugly, like something that had no business coming out of a woman with skincare as expensive as mine.I typed back with a thumb that felt slightly numb.[I’m alive.]The typing dots appeared almost immediately.Hazel: [That’s not enough of an answer.]I stared at the message for a long time.There were so many things I could have written.Sebastian knows.Sebastian never signed.Sebastian says he never slept with Kelsey.Sebastian says the entire foundation of my hatred might have been built on something I never actually understood.Sebastian is still my husband.Sebastian might not have betrayed me like that.Sebastian still betrayed me in other ways.I locked the screen without replying.I set my phone on the small table by the door and walked toward the bed. The room was too neat, too quiet, too innocent to deal with me tonight. T
The Billionaire's Regret The Version of US I Buried
I didn’t know which of us moved first.Maybe it was the sea outside. Maybe the security panel blinking once on the wall. Maybe it was my own breathing, suddenly too close, too rough, like it belonged to someone else standing inside my body without permission.Sebastian stayed in front of me.And I never married Kelsey, and I never messed around with her behind your back.The words were still hanging there. They didn’t fall. Didn’t disappear. Didn’t turn into something I could kick under the table and pretend had never happened.I stared at him.Sebastian Romano, standing in the kitchen in a gray T-shirt with the face of a man who had just thrown a lit match into a room full of gasoline and was waiting to see whether I would scream or burn politely.I opened my mouth.Nothing came out.Which was irritating, because I had a reputation to maintain. I could usually find an insult during minor medical emergencies, family disasters, or whenever someone said the word beige with conviction. B
The Billionaire's Regret Five Years Of The Wrong Funeral
I stared at him without blinking, as if staying silent long enough might somehow rearrange that sentence into something more reasonable.Never married her.My fingers tightened around the edge of my phone until my nails pressed into my skin while my mind raced backward through the last five years. The photos. The messages I’d read. The bracelet on Kelsey’s wrist. The hotel locations. Sebastian’s face, never explaining a damn thing.A small sound escaped me, half laugh, half prayer that my patience wouldn’t leave my body through my ears. “Well, good. One less illegal claim to deal with tonight. I’ll send a card.”“And I didn’t get her pregnant.”“Of course.” I nodded quickly. “Because rich men are famously allergic to babies who come from the wrong women. Chronic condition. Very old disease.”“Jasmine.”“What?” I shot him a look. “You expect me to just believe you? Because you said it in that sexy, low, deeply remorseful voice? Honey, if voices counted as legal evidence, I would’ve los
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