The Billioner's Secret Heir : My Ex's Ultimate Regret

Camila’s brush moved gently across the canvas, creating something beautiful. She was painting white lilies, a gift she planned to give to her sister-in-law, Clara Xavier.

Outside, Manhattan was being hit by the worst blizzard in the past ten years. The wind howled loudly against the tall glass windows, but inside the room, everything felt warm thanks to the soft fire burning in the fireplace.

Camila Wilson took a deep breath. The familiar smell of oil paint—a mix of linseed oil and thinner—always made her feel calm. She was so used to it, she even loved it.

Her hand moved slowly and carefully, adding soft white color to the flower petals. She was sure Clara would love this painting.

In this house, only Clara truly accepted her—aside from her husband, Damian Xavier, of course.

Unlike Lady Beatrice, her mother-in-law, who clearly hated her. Ever since Camila entered this house as Damian’s wife, that woman had always been cold and harsh toward her. It was as if Camila didn’t even exist in her eyes.

Was it because Camila was just an orphan raised in an orphanage? She didn’t know.

“Just a little more,” Camila whispered softly.

With her left hand, slightly stained with blue paint, she touched her still-flat stomach.

No one knew she was pregnant, only a few weeks along. She planned to tell Damian tonight, after Clara’s birthday party. She imagined his reaction—her husband, who loved her so much, would surely be very happy to hear they were going to have a child.

Suddenly, the studio door slammed open.

Camila was startled. Her brush slipped from her hand, leaving a long black streak across the nearly finished white lily. She quickly turned and saw Clara standing at the door. Her blonde hair was messy, and her expensive dress looked wrinkled.

“Clara? You scared me,” Camila said as she stood up. She glanced at her ruined painting, trying not to feel too upset.

But when she looked at Clara’s face, she immediately knew something was wrong. The girl looked extremely pale, and her hand holding the phone was shaking.

“Camila… you have to help me,” Clara said, her voice hoarse, almost drowned out by the wind outside. “You’re the only one who can help me. Mommy… Mommy locked me in my room. She doesn’t understand.”

Camila quickly walked over and held Clara’s cold shoulders. “Calm down. What happened? Why aren’t you getting ready for your party?”

“My friend, Sophie… she’s in danger at the docks. She sent me an emergency message. I have to go there now, Camila! But Mommy took my car keys. She said the storm is too dangerous, but she doesn’t care about Sophie!” Clara started crying, clearly panicked.

Camila glanced out the window. She could barely see anything. The snow was falling so heavily that even the streetlights looked blurry.

“Clara, your mother is right. This storm is dangerous. Let’s call Damian. He can send a security team to check on Sophie—”

“No! No police or security!” Clara cut her off. “This is Sophie’s private matter. If Damian’s people find out, Sophie’s reputation will be ruined!”

Clara grabbed Camila’s arm, her nails pressing into her skin.

“Please, Camila. Give me your car keys. I only need one hour. I promise I’ll drive slowly.”

Camila shook her head. “I can’t, Clara. It’s too risky.”

“So you’re just like them?” Clara let go and looked at Camila with disappointment.

“I thought you were the only one in this house who had a heart. Turns out you’re just another puppet of the Xavier family.”

Those words hit Camila deeply. She had always felt like an outsider trying to be accepted. Clara was the only one who made her feel less alone. Seeing her like this made Camila’s heart weaken.

Camila turned toward her desk. Inside the drawer, behind the paint bottles, was the spare key to her Mercedes.

“Clara, listen to me,” Camila said as she took the key, but didn’t hand it over yet. “Promise me. Don’t drive faster than forty miles per hour. And keep the GPS on so I can track you.”

Clara’s eyes lit up, and a small smile appeared on her tear-streaked face.

“I promise, Camila. Thank you.”

Clara quickly took the key and ran out before Camila could say anything else. Camila stood at the studio door, staring at the long, empty hallway. Suddenly, she felt uneasy. A strange chill ran through her body.

She went back to her painting and stared at the black streak that ruined the white lily. She took a cloth and tried to wipe it away, but the black only spread, turning the pure white into a dull gray.

A few minutes passed. The snow outside grew heavier. Camila walked to the window.

“Why do I feel so uneasy?” she murmured.

She tried calling Clara, but the call didn’t go through. She tried again and again, but it was the same. Her worry slowly turned into fear. She paced around the studio, staring at the ticking clock that seemed to mock her.

One hour passed.

Two hours.

Then suddenly, the quiet mansion was broken by the distant sound of ambulance and police sirens.

Camila ran to the main living room. There, she saw Damian had just arrived, his coat covered in snow. His usually calm and firm face now looked completely shattered. Behind him, Lady Beatrice fell to the floor, screaming hysterically.

“Damian! What happened?” Camila cried, her voice shaking.

Damian turned to look at her. The eyes that once held so much love were now cold, dark, and full of hatred.

“Your car, Camila,” Damian said in a low voice, holding back his anger. “Your car was found at the bottom of the river.”

Camila felt like her world collapsed.

“Clara… what about Clara?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Damian didn’t answer. He slowly walked toward her, his steps heavy and terrifying. Then he threw something onto the marble table.

It was Camila’s car key.

Now covered in blood.