All Chapters of My Billionaire Ex's Biggest Regret: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Bill Darcy piloted his Rolls-Royce Phantom along the lonely, potholed road that hugged the riverbank, his gaze resolutely fixed on the road, though the jarring potholes that disfigured the dirt road like open sores from some long-past war.The dry path was dispersed into fluffy clouds that were immediately smeared away by the wet air.There hadn't been a vehicle on this road since the aged canning factory closed down and its workers left, so nobody knew the real state of these barns after they were abandoned. The other barns were quiet and ghostly in the fading afternoon light, still testifying to the passing of time.Ahead of the wrecked jetty, a motorboat groaned back and forth, tied and in wait. Darcy drove into a burst, half-collapsed lean-to shed, killed the motor, and emerged, his polished shoes kicking dust as he made for the jetty. In front in the water, he saw Titan—a titanic, rusty cruiser moored a half-mile off from the mud flats. A one-time solid fishboat, it played a very

Crystal chandeliers lit the ballroom, shining a light on champagne flutes and beaded gowns. The ballroom was one of excess. There was a string quartet somewhere, their music blending with the muted words and proper laughter.Her smile, Lilian's assurance, was tonight real, as if an old-worn prop. She was warm and obscured any worries that were churning her stomach.She had welcomed the foundation board members, posed with donors, and even sold a few items at the charity auction. She had to turn as a guest approached her.Chris should be here.They were the foundation's Patrons. That they were with him made a huge difference. It was better to wait for him than to endure their call before.A nearby table burst out laughing because one of its largest donors had just won a Santorini vacation, just seconds ago. She was giggling, Lilian's smile genuine, but her mind was. back. When pressed to explain why Chris was present, she kept the lighthearted mood going by stating that he had somethin

The cabin was hot, thick with tension that crackled with silence. Darcy sat across from Sean, his eyes never wavering, never moving, almost hiding no hint of the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Not realizing the peril, Sean relaxed back, his white lips curling up in pride. He reveled in the moment, wallowing in the twisted victory of having at last shaken off his worst sin to a man who was helpless to use his own guilt.Darcy inclined his head in a rakish angle, his voice rising to one side. "I need to know, and I need to know the truth. Was it you who really killed Evelyn Chase?" His tone was controlled and clinical.Sean scoffed, shooing Darcy's question away."Believe me, or not. Doesn't matter." He stared off into space, his brain racing with every foul detail. "But it was easy, you know," he continued, his self-satisfied tone causing Darcy's fists to tighten under the table. "She was a fool. She always left her keys sitting out in plain sight on either side of the mat,

Chris sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows propped on his knees, staring at his hands.He'd never been as battered on the inside — not even that time Rita left him all those years back.His head still pounded from the call from Marcus. The venom in his friend's words was what angered him, perhaps frustrated him. Marcus, brother before friend, was a man whose devotion was not to be shaken and whose ability to weather the storms was unmatchable, unlike most men. That friendship now stood on the precipice of being cut, and Chris had no idea how to make amends.He pushed his hand through his hair, reading each sentence aloud."Is it because you're close to Lilian?" Chris had pleaded in desperation, hoping Marcus's protests were mere sentiment and misplaced loyalty.But Marcus's reply had cut more. "I don't just like Rita, Chris. Your romance with Rita is beginning to distract you and affect your business. It is wrong, and you know it. Don't try to deny it."Chris had been quiet, but M

Lilian was happy today. Not only had dinner with Jack last evening gone well, but tomorrow was her birthday.It was that sort of contentment she had thought was taken away from her, that soft unwinding after weeks of anguish. As hoped, Jack had helped her forget her worries. He had a gift for laughter, the sort that unwound tension in the chest and made silence feel like a friend. A few minutes from arriving at his place, she was already laughing her sides out.He had also cooked — an apron-clad man, playful, purposeful, not just tossing ingredients together, but cooking something that tasted delightful. The meal was lovely, but it was how he would look at her between sarcasm that made her satisfied in ways no food ever could.There was something so appealing about a man who could cook and be funny.The night had ended wrapped in warmth, and she'd departed lighter, as if her soul had been reprogrammed by another. She bathed in hot water, singing unaware, steam hugging her skin, she ha