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작가: Krystal Bahmz
last update 최신 업데이트: 2026-02-17 21:38:47

The key turned softly in my palm.

I stepped inside without switching on the foyer lights. Reflex. As if turning the house bright would let everything that just happened slip in with the light and stand in the middle of the rug like an uninvited guest.

I kicked off my shoes by the door. The heels landed without a sound, but my heart still felt like something thrown from the tenth floor.

The air inside the house was… different. Warm. There was the clean scent of fresh laundry from the linens, a h
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  • The Billionaire's Regret   Someone Is Counting Years

    I leaned back against the headboard, bare feet on the duvet, my thin cream silk pajamas already torn a little at the sleeve, no idea when that happened. The laptop sat closed beside me, Montreux documentation abandoned.Hazel and Rhea were now in their respective guest rooms. The last thing I’d heard was them debating whether eating cheese was healthier or if surrendering to a beautiful death was the better choice. Salma had left two hours ago, the house remaining in a status I’d call “relatively not on fire.”I took a long breath and closed my eyes for a moment. I could still smell the faint white-floral perfume drifting in from the kitchen, even though the flowers were already buried in the trash. A ghost of an expensive scent. Annoying.My phone vibrated against my chest. My eyes opened.The name on the screen: Adrian. His profile photo was a candid, Poppy on his shoulders with a serious face, and him looking resigned but happy. Hazel had taken that picture, and now it lived rent-f

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Bouquet of Warnings

    Night slipped down over a city too polished to have any real secrets. From the wide balcony on the top floor, the harbor lights scattered yellow streaks across the water. Yachts glowed like expensive toys on a rich kid’s shelf.The sliding doors had been left open. Salt air drifted in, mixing with the scent of wine, half-burned vanilla candles, and a thin curl of smoke from a cigarette in a glass ashtray.Poppy had passed out an hour ago after a long negotiation about how many bedtime stories were acceptable and whether a unicorn was allowed under the blanket. On a normal night, I’d be out too.Tonight wasn’t normal.Hazel lounged in a chair, her long legs propped on the armrest, one hand holding a wineglass, the other spinning an empty lighter between her fingers. Rhea sat on the floor with her back against the wall, her glass placed beside her knee, her hair tied up in a lazy knot.I stood near the railing, half leaning on it, one hand holding an unlit cigarette. The thing felt too

  • The Billionaire's Regret   People Are Exhausting

    I lean my head back against the seat and let out a long breath, like my lungs are finally remembering their job. Monaco slides past the window in its annoying postcard version. Clean sidewalks. Glittering storefronts. Beautiful people carrying expensive coffee and polite little problems.I close my eyes.Poppy’s face comes first.Messy bangs. Maple-syrup mouth, even though she hadn’t had any. “MOMMY SAID I WIN.”Then those cold blue eyes.Then the silence in the conference room.Shit.“If Sebastian asks a single question about my kid,” I say, still not opening my eyes, “I will burn Monaco to the ground and call it a yacht accident. I’m serious, Dan.”Daniella turns her head, studies me for two seconds, then nods with an expression so solemn it could be carved into stone. “Noted,” she says. “I’ll prep the alibi.”I open one eye and look at her.She gives a tiny shrug. “If we’re committing crimes, we still have to be organized.”A snort escapes me, something almost like a laugh, almost

  • The Billionaire's Regret   No Place Left to Hide

    “Mommyyyy—”Poppy’s voice is still loud, full of demands and imaginary maple syrup.I force my lungs to work, pull my smile back into place. “Just eat the waffle,” I say that too quickly. “Whatever you want. But brush your teeth first. Now.”Poppy beams at the camera like she’s won a constitutional battle. “I knew Mommy loves me the most,” she declares before yelling over her shoulder, “AUNTIE HAZEL, MOMMY SAID I WIN!”In the frame, Hazel raises her coffee mug with the expression of someone betrayed by her own country. Rhea appears from the other side, patting Poppy’s head gently while half-asleep.“Love you, Mommy,” Poppy says, pressing her nose too close to the camera.“Love you too.”Poppy hits something at random.The screen goes black.I place the phone on the table, face-down, moving slowly. My fingers are cold.Luc gives a warm smile, utterly unaware that he just witnessed a grenade go off. “Well,” he says with a shrug. “The most honest negotiation we’ve had this morning.”I le

  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Slip

    The door opens again, soft and controlled, and Luc walks back in. “Sorry,” he says, nudging the door shut with his hip. “Board call. They wanted to make sure we’re not turning Monaco into, quote, ‘a place where rich people learn how to be human.’”I lift a brow. “They’re late. That’s already the city’s unofficial slogan.”Luc laughs under his breath, then moves to the end of the conference table. He grabs a marker and writes two words on the whiteboard along the wall: Narrative and Numbers.“Next week’s presentation,” he says, slipping seamlessly back into work mode. “We have two types of investors. The ones who care about the story, and the ones who care about the math. I want our deck to speak to both without sounding bipolar.”I nod, already stepping into safer territory. This is mine while Sebastian is still in the room.He hasn’t said a word since that last sentence, but his attention clings to me anyway, a pressure along my skin like a touch that never quite lands. I try to shov

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Behave

    Mornings in Monaco have an annoying habit of being too clean.The sky looks freshly washed. Sunlight ricochets off glass towers until everything appears expensive, serene, and utterly untouched.I sit in the backseat of Daniella’s car, staring at my reflection in the window. My makeup is flawless. My hair styled “effortlessly,” which required a very deliberate amount of effort. A pale cream blazer over a black blouse. The uniform of a woman who can sell the concept of livable opulence without looking like she’s covering up a sin. Unfortunately, the sin still lingers on my lips.Not physically. That disappeared after I brushed my teeth like someone possessed and cursed at my reflection. What remains is the memory: heat, pressure, the way that man moved like my body was still part of his portfolio.I exhale slowly.Daniella adjusts the clutch in her lap, then leans toward me, “Okay, boss. You’re beautiful. You’re brilliant. You have the presentation. You have control. You have—”“I have

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