All Chapters of The Billionaire's Regret: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Poppy finally fell asleep in the afternoon after spending the whole day stuck to Sebastian like a sticker.She went down on the long sofa by the window, her chubby body sprawled half sideways, Bunny trapped under one arm, her long hair spread across the pillow, her bangs covering her forehead, one foot sticking out from under the blanket.Sebastian sat in the armchair not far from the sofa.His laptop was open again. But I knew he wasn’t really buried in it. Every time Poppy moved, his fingers stopped on the keyboard. Every time she let out a heavier breath, his eyes lifted immediately. From a distance, he looked relaxed, dark T-shirt, sweatpants, hair only reasonably neat, expressionless face, but his body had a deeply irritating radar.I sat on the other sofa with my iPad in my lap and opened Daniella’s report again.Read one paragraph.Understood nothing.Read it again.Still nothing.My phone vibrated.[Daniella: Boss.][Daniella: Don’t kill me.][Daniella: But Montreux wants a vid

I watched his hand.Again.The hand that had just made investors go quiet. The hand now tucking the blanket beneath my daughter’s chin.Ridiculous, the things that could break a person a little.Not the big sentences. Not the apologies. Not dark eyes and a low voice that had once made me forget logic had practical uses. Not even the fact that Sebastian Romano had just defended my design better than most of the people I paid to defend project timelines.But a hand.One hand under Poppy’s chin, making sure the blanket didn’t touch her nose.As if the world could be rearranged from that one small movement.I stood where I was, my iPad pressed to my chest like a very expensive and completely useless shield.Sebastian didn’t step back from the sofa right away. He stayed bent slightly, his eyes on Poppy’s face. Her bangs had fallen over her forehead again, and he brushed them aside gently. Very gently. As if Poppy’s hair was made of something that could keep the memory of touch.“She’ll be

A few hours later, Poppy had been moved to the family room sofa with a light blanket, Bunny tucked under one arm, and an iPad playing cartoons at a lowered volume after Salma threatened to send the cartoon characters to boarding school. She was still complaining about gelato every twenty minutes, but her tone had gone lazier. A good sign.I had shifted into the mood of a woman who had to face a private Montreux buyer without killing anyone.The meeting was being held at a boutique hotel near Carré d’Or. Not the project site, just neutral ground with a private salon discreet enough for big-money conversations and pretty enough to make people forget everyone inside was assessing one another like expensive fish in an aquarium.I stood in the foyer, sliding my tablet, a slim folder, lipstick, and a charger into my black leather bag. Daniella had already texted three times.[Daniella: Buyer confirmed. They’re already at the hotel.][Daniella: Luc isn’t there yet, but his assistant is.][Da

Henri Vasseur was still holding his folder, but his fingers had lost their neatness. One corner of the paper bent under his thumb. Claire Besson looked at Sebastian with an expression I couldn’t quite call fear. Matteo Orsini, the nation’s dehydrated man, finally lifted his glass of water.Luc Marchand looked like someone who had just watched a small bomb go off in the middle of the table and, tragically, admired the shape of the explosion.Sebastian went silent again after his last sentence.I shifted my tablet slightly and opened the next slide, as if no legal advisor had just been verbally beaten so badly his spine was asking for leave.“If the gossip strategy portion is over,” I said, “we can get back to what actually determines this property’s selling value. The private corridor.”“Please,” Claire said, blinking.I continued.This time, no one interrupted with terms like reputational safety or conflict of interest or any of the other phrases rich people used to describe their pani

Daniella left the file on my desktop.“CCTV_lobby_14-32.mp4,” she had said earlier, quietly. “I also saved a backup on the office drive. The timestamp matches. The courier came in at two twenty-two and left at two twenty-four.”I only nodded.“Boss?”“I heard you.”“Do you want me to stay with you?”“No.”She didn’t leave right away. Daniella was too smart to just walk out, too loyal to stay without permission. So she stood in the doorway of my office with her tablet hugged to her chest, her eyes moving from my face to the computer screen, then to the desk drawer where I had put the black envelope.“I’ll be outside,” she said finally.“Good.”“If you need anything…”“I need a life written by someone with a better sense of humor.”“Okay. Fair.” She closed the door.The click was small.It still sounded like something being locked.Now I was alone in my office, sitting in a chair too large and too comfortable for a woman currently considering a list of people she wanted to destroy legal