It's Too Late Lyrics Novels & Stories

I spent years loving Dominic Sinclair. I was there before the success, before the wealth, before everyone else wanted a piece of him. I built a life with him, carried his child, and believed that no matter what happened, we would always choose each other. Then one day, another woman moved into our home. Dominic insisted there was nothing going on. Maybe there wasn't. But it didn't change the fact that he stood by and watched her slowly take up space that used to belong to me. Every day, I felt a little less like his wife and a little more like a guest in my own marriage. The worst part wasn't what he did. It was what he didn't do. He didn't fight for me. He didn't see how much I was hurting. And when I finally walked away, he let me go. Starting over wasn't easy, but somewhere along the way, I found myself again. I found peace. I found love. I found a man who never made me wonder where I stood in his life. That's when Dominic came back. Now he wants another chance. Now he wants his family back. Now he's saying all the things I spent years wishing he would say. The problem is, I don't need those words anymore. And some mistakes don't hurt because they happen. They hurt because they happen too late.

In my third year of running a flower shop to support my boyfriend, he went bankrupt again. The first time he went bankrupt, I sold the house my grandmother left me and paid off $700,000 for him. The second time, I dug out the savings account my mother had left me as my wedding fund and paid off another $1.6 million. The third time, I looked at the lost, empty look in his eyes and held the number of my billionaire father, the man I had long since considered dead to me, wondering whether I should call him. But that night, I accidentally saw the messages in a small group chat on his tablet. "Mr. Hart, how much should we put on the repayment contract for this bankruptcy?" "Make it $10 million. Otherwise that flower-shop girl will pay it all off in one go again, and where's the fun in that?" "Mr. Hart really knows how to play. I heard that flower-shop girl tends flowers by day and tends to you by night. No wonder you never get tired of her." I put down his tablet and called my billionaire father. "Isn't this what you wanted? To force me to inherit the family business and marry your protege? Fine. I'll marry him. "Have somebody come pick me up in three days."

Seven years after I disappeared, my sister found my name on the organ donor registry. She stood in the transplant center, staring at the paperwork in the nurse's hands. Her brows knit as she looked at the photo attached to the file, along with the name I used to go by. "Where is he?" she asked. "He's in hospice on the twelfth floor," the nurse answered quietly. "Today is the last day he'll still be conscious. The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning." Her expression turned cold as she headed upstairs. The moment she pushed open the door, she saw me sitting on the bed, writing my final letter. "Landon." I looked up at her and smiled faintly. "You must have the wrong person, Ms. Bennett. My name is Jay Mercer. Not Landon Bennett." She stepped toward the bed, her tone rigid. "Come home. Apologize to Mason, and I'll hire the best specialists in the country for you—" "That won't be necessary." I didn't even look up again as I signed the last line of the organ donation papers. "I didn't do anything wrong. I'm not apologizing to anyone."

When I was five, Mom and Dad took my little brother to the city for kindergarten and left me in a mountain village with my grandfather, who had dementia. Before they left, Dad told me to take care of Grandpa, watch the house, and protect the yard. Mom said I was the older brother, so I had to be sensible. They said that once they made enough money, they'd bring me to the city too. I didn't want to let go. I clung to Mom's leg and begged through tears, "Mom, please. I don't want to be separated from you." My tears and snot smeared across her expensive dress. She scolded me for being difficult, slapped my bottom until it swelled, and struck my face hard enough to break the skin. In the end, they didn't soften. They left and never came back. Three months later, when I was close to starving, I called Mom and begged her to send me something to eat. She snapped, irritated, "A boy who talks about being hungry every day? Why don't you just starve, then? How can there be nothing to eat in the countryside? "Your father and I are under so much pressure in the city. Can't you be sensible for once?" Her words came true. That winter, I starved to death. Five years later, Mom pushed open the rotten door. "Miles," she called. "Mom's back."

Serena Judd is a mess when she's taken to the hospital after being harassed by a freak. As she waits in the corridor for her turn to see the doctor, she sees Justin Farrow with his arm around a young woman. He's coaxing her gently. With a raspy voice, Serena looks at Justin, the guy she has been on and off with for years. "Didn’t you get my text?" "It's Candice's birthday, so I can't upset her. Besides, who knows whether you actually ran into a freak?" He frowns, looking disdainful. "Were you violated?" Serena's blood runs cold at his words. She tenders her resignation the following day, but Justin isn't bothered. He says, "She's more obedient than a dog. She'll come back to beg for forgiveness without me even saying anything." This time, however, Serena leaves without hesitation. … Half a year passes. Justin sits in his car and dials a number he's already committed to memory. As soon as the call is connected, he says tensely, "I miss you." All he hears is a snort. "Why are you disturbing me in the middle of the night with a love confession, Mr. Farrow? You should be asleep." Justin snarls, "Where's Rina? Tell her to answer the phone!" Wilson Quade looks at Serena, who's lying beneath him, her eyes gleaming with desire. He smirks devilishly and says, "We're busy, Mr. Farrow."

The day my parents traveled all the way from home to discuss the wedding arrangements, the Miller family—led by Grayson Miller—showed up late. After my third call went unanswered, my mom forced a smile and tried to comfort me. "Maybe they're stuck in traffic. It's no big deal. Your dad and I don't mind waiting." And wait we did—for three hours. Their expressions slowly shifted from eager excitement to quiet sorrow. My dad kept tugging at the stiff, ill-fitting suit he rarely wore. Finally, he couldn't hold it in anymore. His eyes reddened, and his voice trembled as he asked, "Sweetheart… does it have to be him? "I'm not trying to break you two up. It's just—you'll be thousands of miles away from us. If you ever get hurt, your mom and I… we won't be there in time to wipe your tears." My nails dug into my palms. Still, I smiled, helped my parents to their feet, and said: "Dad, Mom, let's go home. Forget the engagement. I don't want it anymore."

Lucia gave her heart to a family that was never truly hers. She raised his kids, rebuilt his company, and loved a man who chose someone else the moment she returned. So she walked away. Now the wife they took for granted is the woman the powerful CEO regrets losing. “I didn’t leave because I was weak… I left because they didn’t deserve me.”

"Elena, please. I made a mistake. We can start over—" My ex-husband was on his knees in my penthouse, tears streaming down his face. The same man who pushed me down the stairs. Who murdered my unborn daughters. Who watched me die. I looked at him—really looked at him—and felt nothing. "You want to apologize?" My voice was steady. Cold. "You should have thought of that before you killed our babies." His face crumpled. "Elena—" "It's too late to apologise." ★★★ When Damien pushed me down the stairs, I died knowing he'd destroyed me. My cheating husband and my best friend—his pregnant mistress—stood over my bleeding body and smiled. But death gave me a gift: I woke up three days before he destroyed my life. This time, I wouldn't be his victim. This time, I exposed his affair at our gender reveal party. Served him divorce papers in front of everyone. Took back everything he stole. Then Calloway Sterling appeared—the ruthless billionaire CEO my ex feared most. Six feet of dangerous power with storm-gray eyes. "Marry me. One year. He'll never touch you again." A contract marriage. Just revenge. Until Calloway's possessive touches felt too real. Until a paternity test proved he was my baby's father—not my ex-husband. "Three months ago, you went to a fertility clinic," Calloway told me. "The sample wasn't your ex-husband's. It was mine."

Timothy Yeager is the sole successor of Caelumis, the most powerful force of Efral. He has billions of dollars in inheritance and countless subordinates! On this day, he returns to civilization with the marriage contracts his mentor has set for him so he can keep his promise and protect his fiancées. However, as soon as he gets home, most of his fiancées call off their engagements to him. "Do you think you're worthy of marrying someone from the Barton family when you're so useless?" "How can the daughter of the Lynde family marry a peasant like you? It's a humiliation to her!" "Today, we're gathered here to annul the marriage contracts with a loser like you!" "You're dreaming if you think a peasant like you is worthy of marrying any of us ladies!" Amidst the insults and mockery, an icy voice rings out. "Since all five of you are annulling your marriage contracts with him, I, Mavis Jefferson, shall accept it." Timothy looks in her direction and his heart clenches. It's her!

On the day of Claire Brooks, my wife's funeral, a grieving stranger arrived carrying white lilies. After placing them beside her portrait, he walked straight toward me. "I've envied you for thirty years," he said. Confused, I frowned as his eyes lingered on her photograph. "For thirty years, she gave me everything—her love, her time, her money. She never held anything back." He paused before looking at me with quiet resentment. "The only thing she forbade was letting you know I existed." My heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?" He let out a bitter chuckle. "It means that while you were married to her for thirty years, she was with me for thirty years too." Then he walked away, leaving me frozen beside her coffin. I stared after him, struggling for breath. Thirty years of betrayal and lies. The shock sent my blood pressure surging, and I collapsed in the middle of the funeral hall. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Claire and I were supposed to be married. "Nathan Brooks, will you spend the rest of your life with me?" After a long silence, I took the ring from her hand and, without a moment's hesitation, threw it down the drain.