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Fever Night

مؤلف: Krystal Bahmz
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-04-12 21:02:22

Two hours later, I gave up pretending to be a woman who could still focus on veneer, travertine, and vendor margins when the inside of my head sounded like three radio stations fighting over the same frequency.

The house looked quiet. Too quiet. That was usually a bad sign. In this house, quiet only meant Poppy was either planning something or had already finished doing it.

I walked in, taking off my sunglasses.

“I’m home,” I called.

“Mommyyyy!”

The tiny tornado came flying out of the living ro
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  • The Billionaire's Regret   Now You Do

    I froze.My spine seemed to decide it was interior decor, standing there beautifully and uselessly in the kitchen doorway.But I love you more tho.The sentence left my daughter’s mouth like a breadcrumb falling to the floor. Small. Accidental. Ordinary. Except what hit my chest felt like a chandelier crashing down from a ballroom ceiling and landing directly on the most expensive part of my sanity.Sebastian went still too.Not for long. Just long enough to make the air in the kitchen feel heavier.Then Sebastian chuckled. The sound was low, coming from his chest, short, like a tiny crack in dark glass.“What?” Poppy lifted her head from his chest, her bangs falling into one eye. “Are you laughing because I’m cute?”“Because you’re so sure.”“I am sure.” She patted Sebastian’s cheek with one small hand still slightly sticky with yogurt. “I have opinion.”“You have many opinions.”“That’s because I’m smart.”“Clearly.”“And beautiful.”“Impossible to argue.”“And sick.”“Getting bette

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Blood Has a Secret Language

    Morning arrived without asking permission.Rude, honestly. After a night that left the inside of my head feeling like a filing cabinet had fallen down a flight of stairs, the world should have had the basic decency to stay dark a little longer. But no. The Monte Carlo sun still showed up, bounced off the tall living room windows, slipped in through the gaps in the curtains, then landed right on my face like an interrogation lamp bought with old money.I needed coffee.And... why did my back feel like it had just made peace with the marble floor?I blinked a few times.Apparently, I had not slept in my bedroom.Of course not. Because why would a grown woman with a large house, a comfortable bed, and linens that could make angels weep sleep on a chaise like some stupid aristocrat who had lost a war?I was lying on my side on the long chaise by the window, my black silk robe having slipped indecently off one shoulder, my hair tangled across a small pillow, one hand dangling over the edge

  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Long Lens

    Sebastian didn’t speak right away.That should have relieved me. Normal people needed a few seconds to process the fact that my life had just been turned into free content. But Sebastian Romano’s silence wasn’t the silence of a normal man in shock.His eyes moved over the screen. Once. Twice. Reading the headline, the photo, the caption. Then his thumb slid over the screenshot, enlarging the part with the gate.“The account?” he asked.I folded my arms across my chest. “You don’t want to try starting with, ‘Jasmine, I’m sorry your house has been turned into digital chew toy material by people with the moral fiber of a pistachio’?”His gaze lifted to my face. No smile. No comeback. Just that dark stare that somehow still managed to look calm and deeply unsafe for public health.I sighed. “MonacoMurmurs.”One small nod. As if I had just given him a restaurant address, not the name of a gossip account that was probably preparing my life as a degustation menu.Sebastian picked up his phon

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Monaco Never Forgets

    By eight at night, the house finally surrendered to a lower volume.Poppy fell asleep earlier that day. Maybe because her body was genuinely still recovering, maybe because that afternoon she had been too busy making a family chart like a tiny HR department with an excessive interest in stickers. Whatever the reason, I did not complain.After dinner, medicine, one episode of cartoons that was “medically helpful for recovery,” and fifteen minutes of debate over why the patient was still not allowed to wear glitter lip gloss to bed, she finally crashed on the sofa bed with Bunny tucked under her chin and her long hair spread across the pillow like a shampoo ad directed by a hyperactive child.I let her stay in the living room.Again.I chose not to think too much about too many things.A decision that, so far, had failed spectacularly.I was half-reclined on the long chaise near the window, my bare feet propped on the end of the sofa, a black silk robe covering me only as much as it fel

  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Family Chart

    The private doctor arrived at seven minutes to four.Sebastian had been in the living room since three-twenty, as if those seven minutes of potential lateness could bring civilization to its knees.I was sitting on the long sofa near the window, one leg folded to the side, a champagne silk robe falling lazily over my body, my hair clipped up carelessly with a black claw clip, and an expression that, according to Salma a few minutes ago, made me look like I was ready to murder one man before lunch and still look beautiful at his funeral.I didn’t argue.On the coffee table sat the medical file.Not one ordinary thin folder. Not a folded prescription paper. No. A file. Thick. Organized. With sticky notes. Medication times. Poppy’s temperature every few hours. Meal notes. Cough times. Medication response. There was even a small page that, unless my eyes were failing me, contained a list of questions for the doctor.I stared at it, then at Sebastian, who was standing near the window in a

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Syrniki for the Patient

    The morning unfolded in a deeply inappropriate way.Not chaotic. Not romantic. That was exactly the problem. It felt too much like... family. Too much like something I’d once had, then thrown away, only to wake up and find it in my living room again like an expensive package delivered to the wrong address.I didn’t go to the office.That decision was easy. Poppy had just come home from the hospital, still a little pale, and my own body felt like it had been used in a small war against panic, Adrian, Sebastian, and reality. I texted Daniella while standing near the coffee machine.[You’re handling today’s schedule.][If any client complains, tell them I’m dealing with the smaller version of myself who just got out of pediatrics.][If anyone still insists, threaten them with beige.]Daniella replied almost instantly.[Noted.][Beige as weapon. Understood.]What wasn’t easy was the fact that Sebastian didn’t leave either.An hour later, the man was still in my house, still wearing his gr

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