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Forty-Two Percent Mad

Penulis: Krystal Bahmz
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-03-31 23:26:18

Night arrived in the form of a house that was too big and a small child who still had enough fuel for an entire nation.

Poppy had already had her bath and was wearing purple unicorn pajamas that had started fading from being washed too many times. Her long hair was half dry and falling messily down her back. Her bangs still covered half her forehead because she had, of course, refused to clip them back on the grounds that she “had an image.” In one hand she held Bunny. In the other, she held a
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  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Sea Kept Knocking

    We left without speaking.In the hallway, the wall lights glowed softly. From Salma’s room at the far end came the low sound of television and dramatic Turkish dialogue that definitely involved betrayal, inheritance, or both.I stopped at the stairs. “I need air.”Sebastian didn’t ask if I was okay.Good.If he had asked, I might have answered, and that would have created a whole new problem.I went downstairs alone, took a glass of water from a staff member who appeared too quickly near the dining room, then walked out to the large balcony on the west side of the villa.Night in Èze had no right to be that beautiful.The sea below was dark and shining. Small lights along the coast looked like jewelry some rich person had dropped and left there because they were too lazy to pick it up. The wind was colder above the cliff, carrying salt and old stone.I stood on the balcony with one hand on the stone railing, the other holding my glass of water.Water.A very adult choice, considering

  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Softest Thing I Ever Lost to Him

    Lunch was served on the lower terrace, overlooking a sea so blue it had no manners.A long wooden table sat beneath a pergola covered in climbing vines. Wind from the cliff carried salt, rosemary, and generational wealth. At the far end of the garden, two security men stood far enough away to look uninvolved, but close enough to remind us this was not a vacation. Luca had disappeared somewhere, which meant he was either making someone very scared or very busy.Possibly both.The chef appeared like a supporting character in a French movie: tall, gray-haired, white apron, gentle expression, and the ability to place plates on the table without making a sound.Poppy looked at him with the kind of respect she usually reserved for croissants and herself.“Are you a wizard?” she asked.The chef blinked once.Sebastian answered before the poor man had to choose between lying to a small child or damaging his career.“A little.”Poppy nodded seriously. “I knew it. Pretty food is magic.”The che

  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Door With the Anchor

    The villa’s front doors opened before we had even reached the last step.Poppy was still on Sebastian’s hip, Bunny wedged between her small chest and Sebastian’s white shirt, while Barbie hung upside down from her other hand like a very fashion-forward war casualty.The second she saw the inside of the house, her mouth formed an O.Not a small O.An O of full respect.“Daddy,” she said quietly.Sebastian looked at her. “Hm?”“Put me down.”I lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”“I need to inspect the castle.” Poppy stared into the foyer ahead of us with wide green eyes and bangs that had fallen over her forehead again.Sebastian lowered her carefully. The second her little feet touched the stone floor, Poppy stood still for three whole seconds.A personal record.The villa clearly had no idea how to be modest.The foyer ceiling rose two stories high, with dark, old wooden beams and a crystal chandelier hanging low enough to make me immediately calculate the chances of my daughter trying to swing

  • The Billionaire's Regret   I Didn’t Move, I Ran

    Within twenty minutes, my house had turned into an evacuation operation with preschool accessories.Salma packed like a general preparing for war: Poppy’s medicine, sunscreen, pajamas, two dresses, cardigans, a hairbrush, vitamins, a thermometer, and a plastic bag full of emergency snacks because, according to Salma, civilization always collapsed when a small child got hungry.Poppy packed for herself.Which meant she threw in Barbie, two mismatched Barbie shoes, unicorn stickers, three chocolate coins, one tiny spoon from her toy kitchen, and a rock she claimed “had an aura.”“The rock isn’t coming,” I said.“It’s scared to be alone.”“It’s a rock.”“Mommy, you’re so judgmental.”Salma took the rock and slipped it into the pocket of her apron. “I’ll watch it. If it cries, I’ll call.”Poppy looked relieved.I stared at Salma.Salma stared back. “We choose our battles, Jasmine.”True.Unfortunately.I went upstairs only to grab an overnight bag and a few clothes. On the vanity, my phon

  • The Billionaire's Regret   No Pretty Choices

    Sebastian stayed quiet the entire drive home.I could see it in the side of his face.Jaw locked. Eyes forward. His index finger tapped once against his knee, then stopped, as though even that tiny movement gave away too much. In the front seat beside him, Luca spoke briefly into his earpiece, voice low, every sentence cut cleanly like he was cutting wires.In the back, Poppy sat in her car seat with Barbie in her lap, her little feet kicking softly through the air.“Mommy,” she said.I turned too fast. “What?”“If the spy unicorn goes to jail, can it bring a lawyer?”I looked at her.My child. Four years old. Messy bangs. A unicorn sticker on Barbie’s cheek. A stranger had just given her a tracker at the school gate, and she was thinking about the legal rights of a mystical toy horse.“No,” I said. “It lost its privileges when it misused its gold horn.”Poppy nodded seriously. “Fair.”Sebastian didn’t react.That was what scared me more.Usually, even when he was trying not to smile,

  • The Billionaire's Regret   A Gold Horn, A Black Eye

    I managed to work for five hours.A monumental achievement, considering my brain had three tabs permanently open that morning: Adrian still hadn’t contacted me. Sebastian was still around. Poppy was probably giving a presentation about yachts to her preschool classmates.Daniella came in twice.The first time with coffee.The second time with a contract.The third time—okay, so three times—with the expression of someone who wanted to ask why Sebastian Romano’s car had dropped me off in front of the office, but loved her job too much.Daniella set a folder on my desk, then stepped back. “I’ll... come back later.”“Wise choice.”At 3:12, my phone finally lit up.Sebastian.[I’m downstairs.]Of course.I stared at the screen long enough for the words to nearly lose their shape.Then I typed: [I have legs.]His reply came quickly.[I have a car.]I hated that he was funny when I wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge funny people.I grabbed my bag, my sunglasses, and what remained of my sanity

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