Todos os capítulos de The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Mia stepped inside the house and paused, letting the door click softly behind her. The hallway smelled faintly of polished wood and a hint of vanilla from the diffuser her grandmother always kept in the living room.She had expected warmth, light chatter, maybe her grandparents fussing over her like they always did—but there was something still in the air, quiet and attentive, as if the house itself knew she was unsettled.“Darling,” Grandpa Morris said, emerging from the study. His eyes were kind but sharp, reading her like a book he’d opened too many times before. “You’re not… cheerful today. What’s wrong?”Mia hesitated, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag. She had come home with the weight of strategies and plans she wasn’t ready to share aloud, yet she knew he would see through her if she tried to hide it.“I… need to tell you something,” she said finally. Her voice felt small in the large living room, carrying the unease she couldn’t quite mask. “It’s about… Hale Tow

The doctor had used words like mandatory and non-negotiable, had smiled in that calm, practiced way that suggested Mia didn’t really have a choice. Rest. Minimal stress. No office. Mia nodded. Smiled back and promised. Then she went home and turned the guest room into a command center. Her laptop was open by noon, documents layered like a quiet rebellion. The house was too still; her grandmother hovered at a distance, and she pretended not to notice. Mia sat with her feet propped on a cushion, one hand resting on her stomach, the other scrolling through quarterly projections she already knew by heart. She wasn’t working. She was… staying informed. That’s what she told herself. The knock came just after seven in the evening. It was sharp, hesitant, and familiar. She didn’t answer right away. “Iris?” Chris’s voice came through the door, low. Careful. “It’s me.” As if she wouldn’t know. She closed her eyes for a second, inhaled, then pushed herself up. Her body protested i

The voice didn’t belong to memory. It cut through the rhythm of the sea—sharp, sudden, unmistakably real. Too close. Her body reacted before her mind caught up. Spine stiffening. Breathing stalling halfway into her lungs, as if the air itself had turned solid. Her fingers curled instinctively, nails pressing into her palm. Don’t turn, something inside her whispered. Don’t. She turned anyway. The woman stood only a few feet away, close enough that Mia could see the fine lines etched around her eyes, the way her mouth trembled as if the words had escaped before permission was granted. Mid-forties, maybe. A wool coat buttoned wrong. A knit cap pulled low, shadowing her face—but not enough to hide the shock that flickered openly there. Raw. Undiluted. “Oh my God,” the woman breathed. Her hand flew to her mouth, as if she were afraid the rest might spill out. “It really is you.” The world narrowed. Mia’s heart slammed hard against her ribs, once, twice, like it was trying to bre

The wheels rattled softly beneath her.Metal against tile. A rhythm that refused to fade into the background no matter how hard Mia tried to focus on anything else. The ceiling lights slid past above her, one after another, too bright, too white, like a tunnel she hadn’t agreed to enter.Her fingers were cold.She didn’t know when that happened.A nurse walked beside her, calm voice, practiced smile. “You’re doing great, Iris. Just breathe for me, okay?”Mia tried. In. Out. The air felt thin in her lungs, like it didn’t want to stay.“I’m scared,” she said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.“That’s normal,” the nurse replied gently. “You’re not alone.”But it felt like she was.The doors to the theater swung open. Cool air brushed her skin. The smell—sterile, sharp—settled in her nose. Hands moved efficiently around her, adjusting monitors, lifting sheets, voices overlapping in quiet coordination.“Pulse is steady.”“Blood pressure holding.”“Iris,” a doctor said, lea

Morning comes too fast. Mia stands in the doorway of the nursery with her bag hanging from one shoulder, keys cold in her palm. The room smells like baby powder and warm milk. Soft breathing fills the air—two different rhythms, familiar now, carved into her bones. Nathan sighs in her sleep. Noah twitches, one tiny hand lifting like he’s reaching for something only he can see. Mia doesn’t move. Six months, she reminds herself. You said six months. Now it's here. Still, her chest tightens. “Sweetheart,” Grandma Morris calls gently from the hall. “She’s here.” Mia exhales, slow and deliberate, then steps back. The nanny—Elizabeth —stands in the living room, posture straight, eyes alert. Early twenties. Calm face. Kind mouth. She’d liked her immediately, which somehow made this harder. “Good morning,” Elizabeth says. “They’re still asleep?” “For now,” Mia answers. Her voice sounds steadier than she feels. “That won’t last.” Elizabeth smiles. “I’m ready.” Mia nods, then gestures