Babysitting the Billionaire's son
“I’m sorry that I didn’t have a chance to listen to your explanation,” I said softly, my voice trembling as I felt the weight of everything I had done. The words escaped like a confession long buried, heavy and fragile, as if releasing them could finally loosen the chains I had wrapped around my heart. For the first time in a long while, the tightness in my chest wasn’t from anger—it was from regret. A slow, aching kind of regret that seeped into every breath.
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