All Chapters of No Apologies, No Regrets: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Jason stepped out of the ward and strode quickly down the corridor, past the nurses’ station and toward the main entrance. His eyes scanned every figure until—There.Just outside the hospital doors, Fedora stood by the curb, her hand raised to flag down a taxi. The wind played gently with the hem of her gown, her face half-turned, as if unsure whether to leave or linger.“Fedora!” he called out.She turned. Slowly.Their eyes locked.But she didn’t move.Didn’t smile.Didn’t wave.She just… waited.Jason walked toward her, each step deliberate, his heart thudding with something he didn’t want to name. When he reached her, she straightened and forced a small smile—too quick, too polished.“I—uh, I didn’t know you’d be discharged this fast,” she said, her tone brisk, all business. “I was just about to—um—leave, actually. Just thought I’d check how you were doing since, you know… I was nearby and I came to do some bloodwork and all that. I’ve been feeling dizzy since I arrived and I thin

The dim glow of Eric's apartment cast long shadows on the walls as he paced, phone pressed tightly to his ear."Why are you so bent on doing this your way?" he demanded, frustration evident in his voice. "We could have finished him when our men alerted us that he was in Cuba general hospital, after saving him."Beauty's voice was calm, almost too calm. "Because, dear brother, some things are better served cold."Eric's grip tightened on the phone. "He's starting to remember.""I know what I'm doing, Eric Rivas," she replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into her tone."Are you sure you do?" Eric challenged."Yes. I'm taking my own revenge and I will serve it hot!" she smirked. "They will not know what they are walking into until it hits them!" She laughed hysterically.The silence that followed was thick with tension.Beauty Carpenter was not who she claimed to be. Born as Isabella Rivas, she was the daughter of the infamous Mexican drug lord, El Padre Rivas. Her father's empire had be

Five weeks had passed since Fedora arrived in Dubai, and she had executed nearly 90% of the wedding plans with the precision and poise that had made her one of the most sought-after event planners in the Middle East. The grand hall was booked—an elegant glass-domed structure that overlooked the Marina skyline.The reception venue was secured, menus confirmed, vintage wines ordered, and an elite Viennese orchestra contracted for the evening performance. Every detail was falling into place.Almost too perfectly.Jason had kept his word to himself. He remained distant—professional to a fault. He skipped every dinner Fedora was invited to, deflecting with work meetings or fatigue. He delegated every wedding-related decision to Beauty or his PA. If Fedora needed approvals, they came through emails, never face-to-face.But life, as always, had its own rhythm.That morning when Jason went to the gym like his morning routine was, the gym was unusually quiet. And it was in the middle of his sec

Jason hadn’t been himself since that night outside the gym. Since Zariah and Eliana called him Daddy. Since Fedora took his hand and told him not to mind them. His chest still burned like something real had been ripped from him.He told himself it was just the shock. The coincidence. The emotion in their tiny voices. But it lingered. Haunted him.Every time he closed his eyes, he saw their faces. Heard their cries. And Fedora’s—God—Fedora’s voice trembled as she tried to explain it all away.And then she said she was flying back to Dallas in a few days.Something in him panicked. He couldn’t name it. But it clenched, deep and primal. As though the ground beneath him would give way the moment she left.He needed air.He needed space.So on the last week of her stay in Dubai, Jason decided to drive to his getaway house to pick up a file he needed to finalize a billion-dirham deal. It had been weeks since he last touched it. Before she arrived and made the air different.He parked and wa

Jason hadn’t been himself since Fedora left.He walked through his days like a man underwater—present, but completely submerged. Work moved on, meetings continued, Beauty hovered more than usual, but none of it pierced the fog in his mind. He couldn’t shake the weight in his chest. He didn’t even realize he’d been waiting for a call, a text, a sign from Fedora... until it never came.She had left. Quietly. Completely.And the silence she left behind was loud.He lay on the couch that night, unable to sleep, the ceiling fan whirring above him like a slow ticking clock. His heart was restless. His body too alert. Every time he closed his eyes, images flared to life—disjointed, distorted, but visceral.A woman smiling at him. Holding his hands – looking into his eyes.A gold ring on his finger. A uniform.A name—Judah.And always, always, Fedora’s face.But not just her face now. Her laugh. Her touch. The way her lips had trembled against his when she whispered, “Can I kiss you?”The way