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CHAPTER 180: THE SENTENCE
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2026-10-30 21:43:55
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The Billionaires Greatest Regret CHAPTER 181: THE PIANO TEACHER
POV: Vivienne Ashford "Cordelia Boyd," Priya said. "Fifty-three. Harlan's younger sister. Lives alone in a cottage outside Charlottesville, Virginia. Never married. Never in the papers. She teaches piano to eight-year-olds." "And she sent the photograph," said Roman. "The number is a prepaid phone bought in Charlottesville nine days ago. The photograph was taken from a parked car across from the courthouse." Priya slid a printout across the dining table. "That car is registered to her." It was the morning after the sentencing. Pale sun lay across the long table in Westchester, across cold coffee and untouched toast. Vivienne sat with her back to the window. Anya sat beside her with a mug between her palms, saying nothing, her eyes on the printout. Alexei stood at the sideboard with his arms folded. "Why would she warn us?" Vivienne asked. "Maybe she isn't warning." Priya tapped the page. "Maybe she's inviting." "To what?" "To talk. The message said, 'You should have asked who
The Billionaires Greatest Regret CHAPTER 180: THE SENTENCE
POV: Roman Ashford "All rise," the bailiff called. "The Superior Court for the County of Westchester is now in session. The Honorable Margaret Hollis presiding." The courtroom was small and wood-paneled and smelled of floor wax. Dana Voss stood at the defense table in a plain navy dress with her hair tied back and her hands clasped in front of her. She had lost weight. There were shadows beneath her eyes. At her side stood a lawyer in a gray suit who looked as though he had not slept either. Behind her, in the second row, sat her mother, with a rosary wound through her fingers. Beside Marguerite sat Roman. He had come alone. Vivienne was in a back booth of a café across the street, because her presence, the lawyers had said, would make the judge uncomfortable. Roman had promised to call her the moment it ended. Judge Hollis took her seat. She was sixty, silver-haired, severe, with reading glasses on a chain. She flipped through a thick file for a long moment before she looked up.
The Billionaires Greatest Regret CHAPTER 179: MRS. PRUITT'S FRONT ROOM
POV: Anya Petrova "You've his mouth," the old woman said. "Anyone ever tell you that?" "A few people, lately," said Vivienne. "Well, they were right." Mrs. Dorothea Pruitt peered at her over the rim of a teacup. She was ninety-one, tiny, bright-eyed, with a cloud of white hair and a cardigan the color of oatmeal. Her front room in Dayton smelled of lemon polish and old books. A clock ticked on the mantel. "He had a way of pressing his lips together when he was trying not to say a thing. You've got it exactly." They sat on a faded floral sofa. Anya sat beside Vivienne with her hands folded, silent. She had asked to come. She had said, in the car, that she needed to see the places, and then she had said nothing else for two hours. "This is my sister," Vivienne said. "Anya." "I thought she might be." Mrs. Pruitt smiled warmly. "I've been wondering for forty years if I'd ever meet one of his girls. I'm so glad it's both." Anya's head turned sharply. "You knew about me?" "Of course
The Billionaires Greatest Regret CHAPTER 178: A ROOM IN THE HOUSE
POV: Vivienne Ashford "You told her what?" Maya said. "On the phone? Over soup?" "I told her we would like to meet her," Vivienne said. "That's all." "And she said?" "She said she would think about it." "For how long?" "For as long as she needs." Maya flopped backward onto the guest-room bed and stared at the ceiling. It was late. The Westchester house had gone quiet around them, the others asleep or pretending. Rain tapped the window. Vivienne sat at the dressing table, brushing her hair in slow strokes, watching her daughter in the mirror. "It's a lot," Maya said at last. "I know." "A sister. Another one. I just got the brother who hates us in a good way, and now there's an aunt." "Alexei does not hate us." "He glares." "That's how he says hello." "Mom." Maya rolled onto her side and propped her chin on her fist. "Are you okay? Really?" Vivienne set down the brush. She looked at her own reflection, at the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, the silver at her temple
The Billionaires Greatest Regret CHAPTER 177: THE NURSE AT THE CLINIC
POV: Vivienne Ashford "She is on shift until six," the receptionist said. "You are welcome to wait." The Clinique des Crêts sat above the lake on a wooded slope, a white modern building with wide glass doors and a garden of clipped box hedges. It smelled of lavender and antiseptic. A fountain in the lobby trickled over smooth stones. Vivienne stood at the desk in her good coat, her hands clenched around her bag, and tried to remember how to breathe. "I'll wait," she said. "May I tell her who is asking?" "Tell her..." She stopped. What was the sentence? *I am your father's other daughter.* *I am the reason you grew up without him.* *I am sorry.* "Tell her a woman named Vivienne has something that belonged to her father." The receptionist frowned politely. "She does not speak of her father." "I know." "She may not wish to see you." "I know that too." Roman touched her elbow. "I'll be in the car." "Stay." "You'll want to do this alone." "I don't want to do it at all," she sa
The Billionaires Greatest Regret CHAPTER 176: THE LETTER FOR VIVIENNE
POV: Vivienne Ashford "It's a lot of paper for a man who taught English," Roman said. "He taught English for thirty-one years. That's a great deal of grading." Vivienne did not look up. She sat cross-legged on the hotel carpet with the manila folder open before her and its contents fanned out in careful rows, like a game of patience. Photographs, letters, a faded passport page, a yellow telegram. The curtains were drawn against the afternoon. "Don't tell me it's thin. It's the thickest thing I've ever had in my hands." He lowered himself to the floor beside her with a grunt. His knees were no more forgiving than hers. For a minute neither of them spoke. A tram rattled somewhere far below, its bell thin and bright. "Tell me what you've got," he said. "Dates first." She tapped the passport page. "Daniel Marsh. Born 1948, Dayton, Ohio. Entered the Soviet Union on the second of September, 1983, on a cultural exchange visa. A teaching placement at a school in Moscow. Left on the ninet
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