All Chapters of The Billionaire's Regret: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

I’d barely gotten the back door open when Poppy had already climbed out of the car by herself.“Slow down,” I said automatically.“Nope. I have a reputation.”I sighed.The morning air in Monaco was still soft, but the front courtyard of French Academy was already crowded with little kids in tartan uniforms, polished nannies, expensive cars, and mothers who looked like they’d been born with perfect blowouts.I crouched in front of Poppy before she could bolt. I brushed her bangs away from her eyes, smoothed the ends of her hair where they clung to her cheek, then straightened the tiny collar of her uniform. My fingers lingered for a second at the side of her face.Round cheeks, warm skin, a little mouth always a little too ready to argue.Pretty. Sweet. Infuriating.My daughter.“If you lead a coup in Miss Lila’s class today,” I said, adjusting her hair clip, “don’t use my name.”“I can use handsome uncle’s.”“Don’t you dare.”Poppy grinned.I caught both her cheeks first and pressed

Two hours later, I gave up pretending to be a woman who could still focus on veneer, travertine, and vendor margins when the inside of my head sounded like three radio stations fighting over the same frequency.The house looked quiet. Too quiet. That was usually a bad sign. In this house, quiet only meant Poppy was either planning something or had already finished doing it.I walked in, taking off my sunglasses.“I’m home,” I called.“Mommyyyy!”The tiny tornado came flying out of the living room in those quick little steps that always sounded like she was being chased by the law. Her long hair was half falling out, bangs hanging over her forehead, her little bag nearly upside down, and her navy school jacket was unzipped. On the left sleeve, right near the elbow, was a pale pink stain, half dried into the fabric.I stopped.She crashed into my thigh and immediately started talking without taking a breath, as usual. “Mommy, today Clara fell off her chair but, like, slowly, and then Le

And damn it, the house really did feel like it was breathing again the second he stepped into the foyer.Sebastian nudged the door shut behind him with his foot, handed his dark coat to Salma without really looking, then turned his eyes straight to Poppy. Only Poppy. The pharmacy bag landed on the console table. Not a single movement in him looked panicked.I was still sitting on the sofa, one leg folded under my thigh, one hand automatically rubbing Poppy’s back, and suddenly I felt like an expensive decorative object in my own living room.Sebastian stopped in front of us and crouched down.Poppy lifted both arms to him immediately.No hesitation. No shyness. Didn’t look at me first. Didn’t ask. Didn’t check if it was okay. She just lifted her arms, bangs a mess, cheeks flushed with fever, the little blanket slipping off one shoulder, and that look of relief on her face was too guileless to stare at for very long.“Come here, winner,” he said softly.Poppy went to him like her body

One second she was still right in front of me, her hair fanned across white linen, Bunny tucked by her hand, bangs stuck to her hot forehead. The next, she was being wheeled away behind frosted glass and pale walls that were far too clean, into the part of the hospital reserved for people with badges, silent shoes, and faces that never panicked.I stood in the same spot for a few seconds longer than was reasonable.My fingers could still feel the shape of her. That limp little weight in my arms. That wrong kind of warmth.“Madame,” one of the nurses said gently. “They’re doing the initial assessment. The doctor will be back shortly.”I nodded like a sane person.What I actually wanted to do was much uglier. Something hovering somewhere between throwing up, losing my temper, and calling Poppy’s headmistress to ask why that elite institution let four-year-olds eat ice cream like they were celebrating an inheritance.The waiting room was too beautiful to be called a waiting room. Cream-c

About twenty minutes later, a nurse called my name, just as the clock on the wall had started to feel like a personal insult.“Madame Belsky? The doctor has finished the initial prep. The donor unit is in final clearance with the blood bank. You can go in now.”I stood too fast. My knees objected. Salma was up immediately too, grabbing Poppy’s bag, the primary bunny, the backup bunny, a bottle of water, the iPad charger, a little pink sweater, and one tiny sock that had somehow ended up under the lounge table like evidence from a crime scene.We followed the nurse through the swinging doors and into a quieter corridor. The lights were dimmer in this part of the floor. The walls were still white, still expensive, still pretending to be calm, but at least there weren’t any flower arrangements making me want to sue the interior designer.Poppy’s room turned out not to be a standard hospital room. It looked more like a pediatric observation suite polished a little too beautifully by peopl