All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Regret : Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

ELARA’S POV I tore away from the kiss, shoving him with every ounce of strength I had left. My heart was pounding, my lips still burning from the heat of him, from the frenzy he brought with just one touch. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I gasped, breathless, angry… no, shaken. “That guy drugged your drink, El,” he yelled, voice breaking like glass. “He slipped something into it when you weren’t looking.” My knees buckled. Just like that, the floor vanished from beneath me. “No,” I whispered. “He didn’t seem like someone who could… do that.” My voice sounded so small. Pathetic. Like I was trying to convince myself more than him. “That’s the damn thing, Elara,” he snapped, pacing in front of me, raking both hands through his hair like he was trying to claw the thoughts out of his own head. “These traffickers, these predators they don’t have a warning sign on their forehead. They don’t come with a flashing neon label that says ‘monster.’ They wear a smile. They make small

NATES POV The minute I walked back into the room after my call, Elara was no longer on the bed. She was standing by the window, her back turned to me, legs bare beneath the oversized shirt she was wearing. My shirt. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. I never thought I’d see a day like this again her in OUR space, in my clothes. In my life. I wished I could freeze the moment. Pretend this was normal. Pretend it will stay like this forever. Then she turned, catching me off guard. Her brows lifted. “What are you doing?” I looked away too quickly, then forced myself to meet her gaze again. The morning light hit the hazel of her eyes, igniting flecks of gold that tightened something deep in my chest. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. What was I supposed to say? That I was just staring, not checking her out? Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Nate. “Uh—” I cleared my throat. “Were you…” “Get dressed,” I cut in before I could fumble it worse. “I want

ELARAS POV Before I can process what happened, Nate shoves me under the table. A split second later, chaos erupts. Screams. Glass breaking. A stampede of heels and chairs scraping across marble. “Fucking son of a bitch.” Camille’s voice cuts through the air. She’s gritting her teeth, hand pressed to her shoulder, blood already staining the sleek lines of her dress. My heart hammers. I shove Nate’s arm off and scramble out. “Camille!” I shout, my heels sliding against the polished floor. She’s trying to sit up, pale but composed. Nate’s guards are flooding the room now, weapons drawn, securing the exits. I don’t care. I push past all of them and drop to her side, kneeling next to the growing pool of red. “Oh my god Camille. Are you okay?” “I’m going to be,” she mutters, digging through her purse. She pulls out a silk scarf and presses it firmly to her shoulder. “It’s just a graze.” A graze? That’s not a graze. That’s blood. A lot of blood. Nate crouches beside us,

ELARA’S POV “Sir, you can’t be here!” Two security guards rushed forward, arms outstretched, trying to stop Leon from crossing the hallway. He pushed past one of them. “I said I need to see her!” His voice cracked. The tension in the hospital air tightened around us. “What’s going on here?” Nate appeared from the admin desk, brows furrowed. “Why are you holding him?” “He was trying to force his way past—” “He’s with us,” Nate cut in coolly. “He’s her… guardian.” The guards hesitated. “Oh… uh… our apologies, sir.” They backed off. Leon didn’t even glance at them. He turned to Nate, red-eyed, out of breath, wrecked. “Nathaniel. What happened to her? She said she went out alone. I told her not to not without her security. And now she’s been shot? Where is she? What did the doctors say—?” “How did you know she was here?” Nate’s eyes narrowed. Oh please tell me he’s not about to start interrogating him right now? “Joan called me,” he replied. “What’s going on with her? Is she go

ELARA’S POV When I came downstairs, the house was awfully quiet. No sign of Carmen, no clinking plates or murmured conversations from the staff in the kitchen. But the back door was open, and a soft breeze slipped through the frame like an invitation. I stepped out. A flicker of warm light danced across the garden. Nate stood near the flowerbeds, his tall frame relaxed, a gentle smile tugging at his lips—the kind that stirred something deep in me, something I didn’t want to admit I missed. “You’re here,” he said, his smile growing wider like it meant something. “What is all this?” I asked, blinking at the setup before me. There was a large checkered blanket spread across the grass, a woven picnic basket nestled in the center, and… Milla already perched comfortably on the edge of the mat like she owned it. “A picnic?” I raised an eyebrow. He grinned. “With a twist.” “I think picnics happen during the day not at night,” I said, stepping closer, feeling both intrigued