All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

The drive felt longer than it should have. The city stretched out in muted colors beyond the windshield, the evening settling into that quiet in-between hour where the city hadn’t quite decided whether to slow down or stay awake. Headlights blurred into soft streaks as Mia moved through traffic, her hands steady on the wheel, her mind anything but. She stopped at a light and exhaled slowly. Her fingers tightened briefly around the steering wheel before loosening again. This was a mistake. Or maybe it wasn’t. The thought lingered just long enough to make her press her lips together before the light turned green and the car moved forward again. By the time she pulled up in front of Chris’s apartment building, the sky had deepened into a dusky blue. Mia cut the engine. Silence rushed in immediately. For a moment, she didn’t move. Her hands remained on the wheel, her gaze fixed ahead as if the answer to something sat just beyond the glass. Then she leaned back slightly and let ou

Chris hesitated, his fingers lingering on hers longer than necessary. The pause stretched, thick and quiet, the kind that makes the air feel heavy, charged with words unsaid.“I… Iris,” he finally began, his voice low, rough around the edges, “I… I love you. I always have.”Mia’s hand tightened around his, curious, careful. “Always?” she asked softly, her lips curving into the faintest smile.Chris swallowed, the sound nearly lost in the space between them. “Before I even knew what loving someone meant… it was you. And now… now, if you want it, I’m ready. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. With you and the kids.”Mia’s chest lifted with a quiet relief. She exhaled slowly, almost like a release of all the tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Chris…” she breathed, voice trembling with warmth. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, lingering there. Then she smiled and hugged him, soft but firm. A long embrace that held all the forgiveness, all the lon

The park carried the soft hum of late afternoon—voices blending into one another, footsteps brushing against gravel, the distant laughter of children that rose and fell like something alive. Allen sat on a weathered wooden bench, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together. The briefcase stood upright by his feet, too neat, too composed for everything it now contained. He watched people pass. A man in a navy suit speaking into his phone, pacing like the ground beneath him might shift if he stood still too long. A woman pushing a stroller, humming under her breath, the rhythm steady and unbothered. Two teenagers arguing over something trivial, their voices sharp, then dissolving into laughter. Life moved. Allen leaned back slightly, the wood pressing against his spine. His gaze drifted without settling, catching fragments of movement, light slipping through tree branches, the way shadows stretched longer across the path. His phone rested in his hand. He checked th

The room held a quiet that didn’t belong to him.Allen stood just inside the doorway for a moment after closing it, his hand still resting on the knob as if the weight of the day had followed him in and needed somewhere to settle. The space was neat, in a way that spoke of someone who liked things in order, someone who understood the value of organization.His suitcase was beside the bed, she moved forward and sat down on the bed slowly.The mattress dipped beneath his weight, softer than he expected, firmer than what he had left behind.He leaned back, exhaling through his nose, staring up at the ceiling.Silence stretched, then he shifted. He turned onto his side and back again.The pillow felt unfamiliar beneath his cheek. The sheets held a faint scent—something clean, something that didn’t belong to him. It made the room feel even more temporary.His fingers curled lightly into the fabric. Sleep didn’t come.It hovered somewhere just out of reach, like something he could almost gr

The city stretched and shifted outside the window as the car moved through it—familiar streets folding into quieter ones, noise thinning into something softer, more deliberate. Mia sat angled slightly toward the window, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the seat, her gaze drifting over passing lights without really settling on any of them. Chris drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the gear. Every now and then, his eyes flicked toward her—quick, measured glances that never lingered long enough to be caught. Neither of them filled the silence immediately. After a while, Mia tilted her head slightly, her voice breaking through with a soft curiosity. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or are you committed to this mystery?” Chris’s lips curved faintly, his attention still on the road. “You’re very impatient.” “I like to be informed,” she replied. “You are informed.” She turned to him fully now, one brow lifting. “Am I?” “You’re