All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

The pink lines stared back at her like a verdict.Two of them. Clear as day.Sophia had bought three different brands from the corner drugstore, just to be sure. Each one had given her the same result. She was pregnant. And based on the dates she’d scribbled on a scrap of paper in Maya’s kitchen, she was already eight weeks along.“Okay,” she whispered to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Okay. This is real.”Her hands trembled as she set the last test down on the marble counter – a luxury Maya had splurged on for her new bakery apartment, saying every woman deserved to feel like she was living in a palace, even if she was baking croissants at four a.m. The bathroom smelled of lavender and vanilla, Maya’s signature scents, but Sophia could barely breathe past the tight knot in her throat.She’d known something was wrong two weeks ago, back in New York. The morning sickness that had hit her like a truck during a board meeting she’d attended as Alexander’s wife. The way her favori

Rain fell soft and steady on the awning of Maya’s Sweet Start, the kind of Seattle rain that soaked into your bones without you even noticing. Sophia pressed her face to the window, watching people hurry past with umbrellas like colorful mushrooms moving through the gray. She’d been back for three days, and already the city felt more like home than New York ever had.“Earth to Soph!” Maya called from behind the counter, sliding a warm croissant onto a plate. “You’ve been staring at that street corner for twenty minutes. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”Sophia turned away from the window, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The baby bump was still small – barely noticeable under the loose sweater she’d borrowed from Maya – but it was there, a gentle curve that reminded her every morning of why she was here, why she was fighting.“Just thinking,” she said, picking up the croissant and breaking off a piece. It was flaky and buttery, perfect – exactly like everythi

Six months later, “Stella Designs” wasn’t just a name in Seattle anymore. It was a whisper that traveled across the country, carried by brides and socialites and women who wanted to wear something that didn’t just fit their bodies, but fit their souls.Sophia stood in the back of the studio, running her hand over the hem of Margaret Rothwell’s finished dress. It was ivory silk with layers of tulle that shifted like mist, embroidered along the neckline with tiny silver flowers—lilies of the valley, Margaret had told her, were her mother’s favorite. It was elegant, timeless, and unlike anything Cross Couture had ever produced.Margaret had left three days ago, the dress packed safely in a custom wooden crate to be shipped to her estate in the Hamptons. She hadn’t said much when she’d put it on—just stood in front of the mirror for a long time, her eyes glistening slightly before she’d turned to Sophia and said, “You’re very talented. Whoever you are.”She’d paid the full fifty thousand

Rain drummed against the car windows as they pulled up to Central Park. Sophia’s hands trembled as she clutched the folder Elena had given her—pages and pages of evidence that turned everything she’d believed upside down. Maya sat beside her, gripping her phone tight, ready to call for help at a moment’s notice.“He’s by the fountain,” Elena said, pointing through the rain-streaked glass. “But we’ve got company. Three men in the black SUV across the street—they’ve been following us since we left the hotel.”Sophia looked where she was pointing, her jaw tightening. The men were large, dressed in dark suits, their faces hidden by sunglasses despite the gray morning sky. She’d seen men like them before—Alexander’s “security,” the ones who’d made sure she’d left New York all those years ago.“I have to go talk to him,” she said, reaching for the door handle.“Are you crazy?” Maya grabbed her arm. “They’ll hurt you. Hurt the babies.”“I have to know the truth,” Sophia said, pulling her arm