All Chapters of Her Regret Came Too Late: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The Crystal Ballroom of the Grand Plaza Hotel glittered like a tomb of diamonds. Crystal chandeliers spilled light over silk gowns and tailored suits.Everyone who mattered in the city had gathered to celebrate Dillan—the "golden adopted son" of the Clark family.I stood near the champagne tower, watching the performance.Dillan stood at center stage, accepting yet another trophy. His smile was humble, practiced. Beside him stood Eleanor, one hand resting on the faint swell of her belly. She was pregnant with his child.My father stood with my mother, both of them beaming at Dillan like he was the son they'd always wanted. Then my father's eyes found me—and the warmth died.His voice cut through the applause. "Look at Dillan. International award. A pregnant wife. A real man. Built something from nothing." His gaze slid to me like a blade. "Unlike you. That little studio of yours—does it even turn a profit? Victoria pays for everything. Your clothes, your car, your life."Victoria's ha

Victoria's assistant repeated the words. Slow. Careful. Like saying them softer would make them hurt less."Mr. Clark… he jumped off Dragon's Peak.""No!" Victoria shook her head. Her voice came out automatic. A reflex. "That's impossible. He's just upset. He's throwing a tantrum because I didn't spend his birthday with him yesterday. Still, he wouldn't kill himself over something like that."Her assistant explained, "The police called. The search team has been looking for three hours in the waters below the cliff. They only found his jacket."Victoria stood frozen in the doorway of our house. She pulled out her phone with shaking hands.Dozens of missed calls. My name. My number. Starting from seven last night. Continuing all the way until midnight.Every single one rejected.Except one.At 12:03 AM, a call had been answered. Forty-seven seconds.The blood drained from her face.Dillan had been in the hospital with a stomach problem. She had stayed with him all night. She got too tire

After I hung up the phone, I sat in silence for a while.I told myself not to do it.I told myself that the past was the past. That I had buried it. That opening old wounds would only make them bleed again.But my fingers moved anyway.I picked up my phone, opened the browser and typed the names I had sworn to forget.Victoria Brown.Dillan Perez.The screen filled with headlines. I scrolled slowly.There was a picture of Dillan moving out of the Clark family house. Alone. No friends helping him. No moving truck. Just one man carrying boxes to a small rental car, his back curved like an old man's.The article said he had been kicked out. The adopted son of the Clark family, once celebrated and admired, now discarded like something broken.I read the words without feeling them.Another headline caught my eye. Dillan's architecture firm had declared bankruptcy. Several major clients had canceled their contracts. The reason given was "business reputation issues."I wondered what that mean

Dillan let out a cold laugh. His eyes were full of mockery.He hissed, "How did I find you? I know your design style too well, Lambert. That Rebirth project—even with a fake name, I recognized it in one second."I kept my voice calm. "And you still dared to come here?"His face turned purple. His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscles jumping under his skin."You bastard," he spat through his teeth.He took a step toward me. Then another. His eyes burned with so much hatred it was almost impressive. Three years of lying to my face, stealing my work, smiling at me across the dinner table—and now he looked at me like I was the villain."You think winning some stupid award fixes everything?" His voice rose. "You think you can just hide in this little town and pretend to be someone else? Dream on, Lambert."I kept my voice low. It was a warning for him. "Dillan, get out. There are children here.""Get out?" He laughed again—that ugly, broken sound. Then he stepped deeper into the wor

For two days, things felt peaceful again. No interruptions. No Dillan or Victoria.I was walking back from the supermarket with a bag of groceries in my hand.My mind was already on tomorrow—what model to teach the children, whether Callie would finally finish her bridge, whether I should buy more glue.I turned onto a quiet side street. It was a shortcut back to my apartment.Then I heard it.An engine. Loud. Getting closer.I turned my head.A heavy motorcycle shot out from a side alley. It was moving fast. The engine screamed like an animal in pain. The rider's body was hunched forward, leaning into the speed.I recognized that posture.Dillan loved motorcycles. He used to brag about them at family dinners. He said riding made him feel alive.The bike didn't slow down. It came straight at me.My brain went blank. My feet felt nailed to the ground. I wanted to move. Every part of my body was screaming at me to move. But I couldn't. My legs wouldn't obey.The seconds stretched. The he