All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The conference room smelled like coffee that had gone cold and something faintly metallic—polish, maybe. Or nerves.Chris arrived early.Again.He placed his folder at the far end of the table, not at the head, not claiming space that wasn’t being offered. The chair he chose faced the windows, the city lay out beneath them in grey lines and moving lights. London looked calm from up here. Deceptively so.Allen liked calm.The door opened behind him.“Morning,” Allen said.Chris stood immediately. “Morning sir.”Allen didn’t comment on it, but his eyes flicked over the room, the table, the folder. The readiness. He set his coffee down and loosened his cufflinks with practiced ease.“You’re early,” Allen said.Chris gave a small smile. “Didn’t want to rush this.”“Good.” Allen sat. “Let’s hear it.”Chris didn’t open the folder right away. He sat, placed his hands flat on the table, steady. Waited until Allen’s attention was fully on him.“We’ve mapped the next quarter’s cash flow project

Derek’s phone rang at 8:42 p.m. He was standing at the window of Chris’s apartment, city lights blurring into long gold smears below, when the name lit up the screen. Lydia Grant. He didn’t answer immediately. He glanced back at the room—Chris at the table, jacket off, sleeves rolled, papers spread like a battlefield map. Mia curled into the far end of the couch, legs tucked under her, pretending to read while absolutely listening to everything. Derek swallowed. Then answered. “Lydia.” Her voice came through tight. Controlled in that brittle way people get when control is the only thing holding them upright. “I need to see him,” she said. No greeting. “Tonight.” Derek closed his eyes briefly. “That’s… not ideal.” “I know,” she snapped, then caught herself. Lowered her voice. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent.” “Where are you?” “In a car. I didn’t drive myself.” That made his chest tighten. “Who knows?” Derek asked. “No one,” she said quietly. “But Allen… he’s circlin

Chris’s key clicked in the lock later than usual. The apartment smelled faintly of lavender from the candle Mia had left burning, flickering shadows along the walls. He paused in the doorway, coat half off, shoes untied. Tension followed him like a shadow, tight across his shoulders, pressing down on his chest. Mia was at the kitchen counter, leaning on one elbow, a glass of red wine in hand. She looked up without standing, eyes catching the low light. “You’re late,” she said softly observing him He exhaled, a sound somewhere between exhaustion and frustration. “Traffic.” She didn’t push. She didn’t need to. She’d known Chris long enough to see through the excuses, read the weight behind them. Dinner was quiet. Just a small plate of pasta he’d grabbed from the café downstairs, reheated and served on chipped china. He didn’t touch the wine, didn’t look up from the fork twirling noodles with mechanical precision. Mia poured herself a small taste, swirling it, watching him. “You’re

The boardroom smelled of polished wood and stale coffee, the kind of smell that made your throat tighten without you noticing. Chris walked in last, Derek a half-step behind him, and both of them carried the faint echo of rain on their coats. Allen was already there. Hands folded neatly on the table, eyes sharp, waiting.“On time,” Allen said, the words more observation than greeting. Chris inclined his head, sliding into his usual seat. Derek flanked him like a shadow, straight-backed, hands folded on the table, jaw tight.The vote was on the agenda—approval of the overseas restructuring. To most, a routine shift of assets. To Chris, a test.Allen’s voice broke the quiet. “Geneva subsidiary. Current valuation is stable. The proposed restructuring would release liquidity for acquisitions. I need a vote today. Any objections?”Chris’s eyes flicked to Derek. Calm and timing. A subtle nod between them, invisible to anyone else. Derek’s fingers tapped lightly against the table, mirroring

The boardroom smelled of polished wood, lingering coffee, and faint tension. Chris adjusted his tie without thinking, eyes skimming the spreadsheets projected on the wall. Derek sat beside him, shoulders rigid, hands clasped, watching Allen like a hawk. Allen’s presence filled the space. Lean, precise, his voice controlled—but there was an edge, a restless energy beneath the calm. Every movement, every pause, every subtle glance seemed like a test. Chris tilted his head, glancing at Derek, but said nothing. He had learned long ago that caution was louder than speech. Allen’s voice broke the quiet. “Chris… your take on these projections. You seem… too calm.” Chris didn’t flinch. “Calm is necessary when the risk is visible. Overreaction would be premature.” Allen’s eyes narrowed. “You’re… calculated.” Chris let the word hang. “I prefer precision.” Allen leaned back, fingers steepled, lips pressed tight. “I don’t like surprises. I prefer certainty. And yet…” He waved vaguely at th