All Chapters of My Billionaire Ex's Biggest Regret: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The fall was loud.This is what Chris Newton always believed.He longed to shout. To scream. The smash of glass or the pounding of fists against marble walls. A loss of everything could accompany a claim of chaos: sirens blaring, headlines flashing, betrayal shouted to the bright sky.But instead, it came quietly.It had a notification tone.Chris was alone in the penthouse apartment, standing in front of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city he once controlled. The lights of the city glittered like a string of jewels; tonight they glittered insincerely—remotely beyond his reach.His phone rang once.Then again.Unknown Number.His eyebrows furrowed, and irritation flashed through his expression. The numbers that he didn't remember were something of a plague on him these days. Lawyers and bankers are only two examples of many that he didn't even bother remembering anymore. Almost he didn't give it any mind.Almost.This text message contained no messages.A video file only.

Fire had a sound.It wasn't a sound that people imagined in movies, only wood bursting, walls groaning with heated expansion, and glass shattering as if it were bones. The hunger was extreme. The entire safe house was crumbling slowly.Lilian woke up choking.The smoke slid into her lungs even before fear could reach her brain. A harsh, burning inhale wrenched her from sleep. Her eyes flashed open; her skin was stinging; the room was misty with gray mist. In a dizzy flash of a moment, she thought she was back in Chris's penthouse, awakening from the nightmare."And then she smelled gas."“Jack!” Her voice came out hoarseThe door swung open immediately.Jack Macon didn't ask questions. He had never asked questions when his instincts had been the driving force. He took three strides across the room and caught her wrist with his fingers.“Fire!” he yelled, already moving. “We've got only two minutes.”The hallway was a smoke-filled tunnel.The alarm lights started to flicker, and the wa

Early that evening, the rain was gentle at first, falling in sheets that muffled the sound and frayed the edges of things. The rooftop restaurant where Lilian was waiting shimmered with gold lights and glass, hanging over the city like a quiet throne room. She had picked the spot with care.Public. Bright. Safe.Or at least, she hoped.She sat alone at a corner table, her back straight, her fingers interlaced across her knees, hiding the shaking that threatened to betray her. Rarely did she not answer Chris' calls when they came in. This time had been different. There was a crackle in his voice—not dramatic, and definitely not the arrogant façade he normally presented, but something genuine.“Lilian… please. Just once more. I have to tell you something.”One last time.Then she whispered under her breath, as if trying to calibrate herself:"I'm only here for closure."NoteYet beneath the force was a knot of expectation she would not admit. A knot fed by memories—and they were not all

Silence.Not true silence—more like the ringing void that exists only after a world ends. When Lilian opened her eyes, all she saw was white at first, as if the universe had been erased and was still deciding whether to put her back.Then the white faded.Reality returned as smoke, debris, and blood.She was lying on the marble floor of the Newton Foundation lobby. But the lobby was no longer a lobby—it was a graveyard. Glass panels hung like torn wings, shattered furniture lay scattered, and a fire alarm shrieked through the haze like an animal in pain.Bodies moved. Some crawled. Some didn’t.Lilian tried to sit up but her head pounded like a war drum. She touched her temple and came away with red.Memory crashed back—the charity gala, Chris showing up unexpectedly, the confrontation, Rita’s cold smile,and her hand—pressing that small black detonator device.And everything went white.Lilian staggered to her knees.“Help…” she croaked—but her throat was raw, broken.A shape moved

The air tasted like fear.The old underground warehouse—once Darcy’s secret hideout—smelled of rust, fuel, and damp concrete. Concrete pillars towered like silent witnesses, and broken crates lay everywhere, remnants of something darker that once lived there. A baby-blue light flickered from a half-dead fluorescent bulb overhead, casting long haunted shadows that danced across the floor.Rita stood at the center of it all.Her hair, once immaculate and styled to perfection, now clung to her forehead in sweat. Her makeup—smudged, streaked, defeated—betrayed that the confident woman who engineered lives from behind screens and whispers… was now cornered, exposed. Her hands trembled, yet her chin remained raised, defiant.Behind her, stacked unevenly like a careless grave, were metal containers stenciled with faded warnings:HIGH EXPLOSIVE MATERIAL – PROPERTY OF DARCY INDUSTRIES.Explosives. Enough to turn this entire building—and half the surrounding street—into smoke.Kelvin, Lilian, a