All Chapters of The Billionaire's Regret After I Died: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Adrian’s POVDays blurred into one another. Each morning began the same way, calls, reports, and more unanswered questions. Each night ended in silence.I had stopped sleeping. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Rachel being swallowed by the flames. I heard her voice calling my name through the smoke that I couldn’t reach through.The police were doing what they could, or so they said. But the procedure wasn’t fast enough. Not when my wife was missing. Not when every hour that passed felt like another door closing.So I called Leo, the lead investigator, again that morning.“Detective, I don’t care what you need to do,” I said sharply. “I want results. If you don’t have enough manpower, just let me know, I’ll pay. If it’s jurisdiction, I’ll handle it. Just find her.”The man on the other end sighed. “Mr. Parker, we’re reviewing every

Rachel’s POV(Back to present time)Amber was nestled in Marissa’s arms.Through the car window, I could see the two of them in the back seat of Adrian’s car, Marissa’s manicured fingers brushing strands of hair from Amber’s forehead as my daughter giggled softly, her laughter bright even through the glass and distance.The world outside was painted in warm sunlight, but I felt none of it. Inside George’s car, the air was heavy, silent.I pressed my palm against the tinted window, as if I could reach her through it. My little girl. Her laughter was the sound I had clung to every night in the hospital when the pain felt unbearable. And now that I was finally close enough to see her, close enough to touch her, I couldn’t even open the door.

Adrian’s POVEven as I drove away, something in me refused to settle.For a very brief moment, before George walked out of that car, I could’ve sworn there was someone else inside. A faint outline behind the tinted glass.It was ridiculous, probably paranoia, but the image stayed with me long after the road stretched out behind us.Back at the mansion, the silence pressed in. Amber’s laughter no longer echoed here. The house, once a home, felt like a showroom, too clean, too perfect, too hollow.My phone buzzed. It was my secretary.“Mr. Parker,” she said quickly, her tone uneasy. “It’s about your grandfather. Mr. Philip has had another relapse. The do

Rachel’s POVThe days passed slowly.Healing wasn’t what I thought it would be. It wasn’t peaceful or hopeful. It was work. Grueling, endless work.The gauze was finally gone, but the pain remained. My skin had begun to knit together in patches, rough and tight, but the doctor called it progress. Every movement felt like walking on glass. When I tried to lift my arm, the muscles burned. When I stood for too long, the scars pulled like ropes under my skin.I had also started losing weight as part of the recovery process. It wasn’t easy. Some days, even eating was a battle, the food tasteless, and the nausea constant. Every stretch I did felt like my body was being pulled apart, but I still did it nonetheless. The doctor told me it would take months to regain full mobility, but I refused to let that stop me.I wasn’t just trying to live. I was trying to return.To Amber. My baby girl.Every day I reminded myself why I was enduring this. Each time the pain hit, I pictured her smile. The

Rachel’s POVThe mall felt louder today. Too bright, too alive. Every sound, the chatter, the clinking of cups, the rustle of shopping bags, pressed against my skin until I wanted to turn back.George walked beside me, his steps unhurried, his voice low and steady. “Take your time,” he said. “There’s no rush.”I nodded faintly, adjusting my scarf higher around my cheek. Every step felt like walking through a dream I didn’t belong in. The air-conditioning was cold against my skin, and the smell of perfume and coffee stirred faint memories I didn’t want to face.We passed several stores before I stopped in front of a small toy shop tucked between a bookstore and a café. The window display was warm and simple, rows of dolls, stuffed