In the novel, the billionaire's regret isn’t just about losing his ex-wife—it’s a slow, crushing realization of what he took for granted. At first, he buries himself in work, pretending his empire fills the void. But then the memories creep in: her laughter echoing in empty halls, the way she’d calm his storms with a single touch. He starts noticing her absence in trivial things—no one remembers his coffee preference, or calls out his reckless habits.
The climax hits when he sees her thriving without him, her new life radiant with happiness he didn’t foster. His regret isn’t melodramatic; it’s quiet, gnawing. He replays their fights, recognizing his arrogance. The novel paints his downfall poetically—riches mean nothing when the one person who saw past them is gone. His redemption arc isn’t about winning her back but learning humility, a lesson too late.