All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Regret : Chapter 301 - Chapter 310

ELARA’S POV Nate’s hand brushes against my cheek. “Easy,” he murmurs, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Just wanted to adjust your head you were dozing off in the most awkward position.” “I wasn’t asleep,” I mumble, voice thick with denial. “Sure you weren’t,” he teases quietly. “You even drooled a little.” My eyes widen. “I did not.” He chuckles. “You did. Just a little. Kind of cute, though.” I groan and push his hand away, but the sound of his laughter, melts something tight inside my chest. For a moment, it almost feels like the world isn’t closing in on me. Almost. When his phone buzzes again, the air shifts. His smile fades. “I need to take this,” he says, standing. “Chris must’ve found something” I nod and watch him walk toward the hallway, his voice already dropping to that sharp, commanding tone again. The silence that follows feels too still. Too careful. I stand slowly. My body feels heavier than it should, my lower abdomen tugging with a dull, persist

NATE’S POVI can’t sit. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.Ten minutes ago, she was in my arms. Bleeding. Crying.Now I’m useless — stuck in a hallway while strangers decide if she lives.I pace. I curse. I tear at my hair.Every time those doors swing open, my heart stops. And every time it isn’t her, it drops straight to hell.A nurse finally steps out — the one who rushed her inside.I’m on her instantly.“Is she okay? Tell me she’s okay.”“Mr. Hales, please calm—”“No. Tell me what’s happening.”Her expression stays maddeningly blank.“We’re working to stabilize her. She lost more blood than expected.”My knees nearly buckle.“Is she still—”I choke. I can’t finish it.“Yes. She’s alive.”Air finally enters my lungs… then freezes again.“But she is not out of danger yet.”I step closer, voice breaking.“What about the baby?”Her mouth tightens like the answer hurts her too.“There’s a heartbeat,” she says quietly.“Faint. But it’s there.”A sound tears out of me — relief tangled with

ELARA’S POV Nate places another kiss on my forehead. His lips linger longer than the last three times. “I know I look like a ghost,” I sigh just as another silent sting hits my lower back. My whole body feels like it is falling apart. Even though the bleeding has stopped completely, I keep drifting in and out of sleep. The IV needles have left tiny bruises and punctures all over my hands. At this point even breathing feels like a chore. “You do not look like a ghost, my love.” He smiles and snuggles closer, acting like this narrow hospital bed was made for the two of us. “Oh really?” I lift a brow, but my voice comes out so faint it is almost a whisper. “Yes,” he says, sounding entirely too confident. “You were staring so much I could see my dark circles reflected in your eyes.” He turns to me, studying my face with the seriousness of a surgeon. “I don’t see any dark circles here.” I can’t help but smile. “You don’t have to lie. I am supposed to look like a ghost, yo

ELARA’S POV My mother’s expression sharpens. “Do you remember your Aunt Gina?” she asks, her tone suddenly careful, too careful even. My head lifts, confusion slicing through the frustration. “What does Aunt Gina have to do with any of this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. The air shifts. My mother and Aunt Gina despise each other, everyone knows that. Every holiday ended in disaster. The only time they weren’t at war was in their childhood photos, photos aunt later burned one visit and never came back after that. Mom even forbade us from mentioning Gina in the house. “Long before I got pregnant with you, your aunt got pregnant. With her first son.” “I thought Logan and I were the same age?” “Before Logan,” she corrects gently, “your aunt had another baby…. And when she was pregnant with him, the doctors told her the baby had abnormalities due to a chromosomal issue. He couldn’t develop legs.” She pauses, breath shaky. “They told her the best option was to abort.”

ELARA’S POVAfter spending another ten excruciating weeks in the hospital, I thought the penthouse would be the safest option for us. But Nate called it suffocating and decided to move us to “our dream house,” as he likes to say.It’s a ranch.Stables. Gardens. Staff everywhere. More rooms than we could ever fill. Nate spends some of his morning and afternoons at the stables or repairing vintage cars I have no idea where he got them or the tools to work on them.Everything feels… perfect. Almost too perfect.Since Nicolas fled the city, there haven’t been any threats or attempts on our safety. The staff is helpful and respectful. And yet, something feels off.I can’t explain it, but I can’t fully lean into all this. Dr. Harrison calls it self-sabotage, but gut tells me it’s not. But we’re working on it — baby steps.This may not be the life I imagined for myself, but I have to admit… the peace is nice. Being a housewife who only clocks in when she feels like it is nice. So nice that