The Billionaire's Regret のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

flashbackThe moment we stepped inside, the villa felt quieter than it had looked from the outside.Not cold quiet. More like the kind of quiet a house had when it knew it was expensive and therefore didn’t feel the need to make noise to prove anything. The pale stone floors caught the last of the afternoon light. Warm white walls, high ceilings, wide windows framing the sea as if it were family property. The air inside was cooler, faintly scented with lemon polish, old wood, and fresh flowers someone had arranged on the foyer table in a ceramic vase too beautiful to touch carelessly.I stopped two steps after the front door closed and slowly turned in place, taking in the wide room in front of us.The living room opened onto the terrace. Sand-colored linen sofas. A huge rug that looked soft but definitely expected respect. A curved staircase swept up to the second floor, its wrought-iron railing, annoyingly enough, absolutely beautiful. To the left, open doorways led into the dining

I woke up with the wrong kind of breath in my chest.And strangely, it wasn’t because of a nightmare. It was worse than that. A dream that had been too soft, too beautiful, and far too inappropriate for a woman who, for the past few days, had still been calculating the worst possible outcomes for her daughter’s life.I stared at the ceiling for a few full seconds, then rubbed both hands slowly over my face.“Seriously?” I muttered into the dark.Monaco. The first time. The white sundress. Sebastian’s shoulder. His hand. His terrible joke, which honestly still deserved prison time. Out of everything my brain could have chosen to replay at this hour, my subconscious had apparently decided to screen the twenty-two-year-old version of Sebastian. Warm. Gentle. Half-crazy in love with me.The nerve of it.I turned my head to the side.Rhea was asleep on her back on one side of my bed, her eye mask shoved up to her forehead, her mouth slightly open, her snore faint but consistent. Hazel, on

Mornings at the office always had their own way of lying to people. From the outside, everything looked glamorous and immaculate. Tall glass windows. White light pouring in. A massive walnut desk. One corner crowded with marble samples, upholstery swatches, metal finishes, and a few Italian catalogs that probably cost enough on their own to cover one family’s therapy bill.On the left screen, revisions for a built-in wardrobe drawing for the Larvotto penthouse. On the right, an email from a lighting supplier who had finally replied in that classic European-vendor style: very polite, very slow, and absolutely useless.I was answering yet another email about brass finishing when the intercom on my desk buzzed.“Lucien from procurement is still waiting on your sign-off for the veneer panels, Madame,” Ana’s voice came from outside.“Just leave them. If I die before lunch, burn the dark walnut and pick something less unhinged.”Ana laughed softly on the other end. “Noted.”I closed one fil

My phone started ringing.FaceTime.I glanced at the screen and let out a sigh the second the name appeared.MamaOf course. Because apparently my life still wasn’t crowded enough, and the universe had decided this was the perfect moment to add Vianna Belsky to the brunch table. That woman could smell drama across international borders without needing a boarding pass. And if she saw who was sitting across from me right now, I was not exaggerating when I said all of Moscow would probably charter a jet just to throw Sebastian into the sea.I reached for the phone, but before I could hit anything, Poppy saw it.“Babushka!”Her little hand shot toward the screen.“Don’t...” I said.Too late.She hit the green button with enthusiastic delight.I closed my eyes for half a second. Then I looked straight at Sebastian. “You are not allowed to speak.”One of his brows lifted slightly.“Not one word,” I continued, quiet and sharp. “If Mama hears your voice, the entire Belsky family will be in Mo

“Promising start.”I looked over from the kitchen just as Poppy nodded in satisfaction, like she had just received legal counsel from the Barbie Supreme Court.“See?” she said, holding Lawyer Barbie up in the air. “That’s what I said.”Sebastian only slid one little piece of clear plastic off his knee and set it aside, then picked up a miniature shoebox Poppy had nearly stepped on. His movements were calm, neat, far too practiced at being in the middle of charming little chaos. That was the most irritating part. Not that he was awkward. The opposite. He wasn’t.I moved the grilled cheese onto a plate. Cheese spilled from the edges of the bread, yellow, warm, sensible. Thank God there was still one thing in this house that knew how to behave.“Mommy,” Poppy called. “Lawyer Barbie needs a bigger house.”“Lawyer Barbie needs a job first,” I shot back, reaching for a knife. “None of the Barbies in this house are getting married immediately and becoming a financial burden.”“I work,” Poppy