I Left Him He Cried In Regret

He didn’t come to find her. He came to sign a business deal. But fate had other plans — and a pair of familiar eyes waiting to meet his. When billionaire investor Adrian Blackwood visits a local primary school to discuss a scholarship program, he doesn’t expect to play hero. Yet when he sees a little girl being cornered by bullies, something inside him cracks. He steps in — cold, detached as always — until she looks up at him with eyes too familiar to ignore. Eyes that mirror his own. Her name is Aria. Smart, stubborn, and heartbreakingly brave… and she has no father. The connection hits him harder than he wants to admit. What Adrian doesn’t know is that Aria’s mother is Elena Hart, the woman he left behind years ago in college — the only woman he’s ever loved, and the one who still doesn’t know the truth about why he really left. But the past never stays buried. As Adrian starts to piece together the truth — about Elena, about Aria, and about the powerful enemies who forced him to disappear — old secrets resurface with dangerous consequences. Someone has been watching them both, someone who knows what Adrian tried to protect Elena from. And when a buried scandal threatens not just his empire but their child’s safety, Adrian realizes leaving her was his biggest mistake… and coming back might be the one thing that destroys them all.

On the day of her wedding, Celestia Montes was abandoned at the altar humiliated and discarded by the man she thought she would spend her life with. But just when her world collapsed, a cold and powerful stranger offered her a deal: marry him instead. What started as revenge turned into something far more dangerous—love.

I was the Luna who gave everything to her Alpha—my heart, my loyalty, my dignity. Ethan repaid me by sleeping with other she-wolves, over and over again, and every night our mate bond slowly poisoned what was left of my soul. On our third wedding anniversary, when he suggested I could "try" sleeping with someone else too, I finally broke. My childhood friend, a young Alpha, called me when he heard the news and proposed to me over the phone. His gentle voice healed every wound Ethan had carved into me, so I said yes. Now I've decided to give Ethan moonbreak herb and sever our bond forever. But Ethan never bothered to ask what I gave him to drink. He was too busy running off to his favorite she-wolf's bed. He has no idea that in thirty days, when the moon breaks, our mate bond will shatter completely, and the "chains" that bound us as fated mates will be gone. This time, I'm really leaving.

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.

I died in the year my husband hated me most. Unable to endure his endless silent treatment any longer, I swallowed a bottle of pills and ended my life. At the crematorium, watching the flames roar inside the furnace, he allowed himself a rare smile. “Someone as vile as her doesn’t deserve to be laid to rest whole.” So when the staff handed him the urn, he flipped it over. My ashes scattered across the floor in an instant. All this time, he had believed I was responsible for the death of his first love. That belief was why he had schemed and plotted for years, all for this precise moment of final desecration. When it was over, he stepped over my ashes and walked away without looking back. Though not long after that, he fell to his knees and begged the crematorium to give my ashes back to him.

On our fifth dating anniversary, my boyfriend, Luke Bolton, gives me a cheap bracelet worth less than a hundred dollars. On the same night, he splurges ten million dollars on a yacht for his first love, Cindy Gale. I refuse to accept this, and he accuses me of making a scene. "I gave Cindy that gift to boost the company's stock price, not because I still have feelings for her," he says. "You're poor, and I still promised to marry you. Isn't that enough? This was actually your last test, Elisa Gray, but you failed it." I break up with him, and he immediately proposes to Cindy. Five years after that, we meet again at a luxury hotel during a business summit. His company is about to become an industry giant, and Cindy is holding onto his arm. When he sees me, I'm standing in a fountain, all drenched and disheveled. "Elisa," Luke sneers. "When you turned me down back then, did it ever cross your mind that you might end up worse than a homeless person? "Don't think acting pitiful here will make me feel sorry and take you back." I ignore him. My son's cherished blue diamond was a birthday gift from his father, and he accidentally dropped it into the fountain. He's so upset that he's about to cry, and I have to find it right away.

In the seventh year of my marriage to Simon Heath, I finally walk away from him after his 32nd mistress shows up at my door. I join a classified government program and disappear from his world. Now he's falling apart and calling me non-stop. "Lily, I was wrong. Please come back." In the past, a single word of apology from him would have been enough to make me stay. But not this time. This time, he's bound to be disappointed.

It was our seventh year of marriage when my husband, Joseph Lowe, brought my best friend, Teresa Shaw, to my ward. And they were the picture of a perfect couple. I gave them my most genuine blessing. "You two make the perfect match." Joseph tossed an agreement in my face. An asset transfer. He demanded that I give Teresa everything I had. I took the papers and signed my name without wasting a moment to think. Teresa laughed happily, pleased with my obedience. She then hugged Joseph and said, "Thanks for taking care of Joseph for me, Selina. Oh, there's the divorce papers, too. How about…" I noticed the look of impatience in Joseph's eyes, so I snatched the papers from Teresa's hand. "Yeah, I'll sign them all."

During the holiday, a hashtag related to honeymoon trips goes viral on social media. The topic is, "How are you planning to spend your honeymoon?" One of the threads that has the most replies reads, "I have to bring my mistress along, of course." "Wow! That's crazy. Can you teach us how to pull that off?" I frown as I scroll down the thread and find the reply. "There are a lot of poor, female backpackers these days. As long as the mistress acts pitiful enough, you can pull the wool over your wife's eyes. And just like that, a couple's haven will become a world of three. "My wife and I will be going on our honeymoon trip tomorrow. I'll give everyone live updates in this thread." Feeling disgusted, I close the thread. … The next day, my husband, Sean Clifford, and I meet a poor, female backpacker on the road. She has no car, money, or any suitcases with her. Sprawling herself across the windshield, she begs, "Can you give me a ride, sir? I have blisters all over my feet. I can't walk anymore."

While I try on various wedding rings, my fiance, Don Demetrio Farese, who has tagged along, suddenly snatches the ring from my fingertip. "You already lost a finger, Lucia. The ring will look ugly on you. Carlotta, on the other hand, looks beautiful with a ring on her finger." Then, Demetrio fishes out a photo featuring him sinking down on one knee while sliding a ring onto Carlotta Rini's finger. My chest tightens. "What are you trying to say?" "Let Carlotta wear the wedding ring. You've already lost a finger anyway—you don’t need it." Pain slowly spreads from my chest to the rest of my body. For a moment, I almost lose my balance. The truth is, Demetrio's mortal enemy is the one who severed my finger by shooting at it. Back then, I only got shot because I had shielded Demetrio from the bullet.