The Billionaire's Regret Symplyayisha Novels & Stories

In her place stood Aria Laurent—art consultant, European educated, mysterious enough to be intriguing but respectable enough to be trusted. "Of course not," Sophia said, clearly not believing her. "No one's interested in a billionaire under forty who looks like he walked off a magazine cover." *A billionaire whose family destroys lives without consequence*, Isabella thought. *Whose father drove mine to suicide and never lost a night's sleep over it.* "I heard he's looking for a wife," Isabella said casually, swirling her champagne. This was the opening she'd been engineering for months. "Something about his grandfather's will?"

"Wipe the floor with your dirty sleeves, driver," Kiara ordered coldly, her absolute victory echoing on the quiet terrace. "And keep the tip. You clearly need it to buy better bandages before I make you drive me home." The crisp, pink five-hundred-rupee note floated gently through the air, landing softly in the puddle of diluted blood and freezing condensation near the toe of Aryan’s scuffed shoe. The three billionaires—his former brothers—watched in breathless, morbid fascination. They desperately wanted to see if the great Aryan Singhania still possessed a single ounce of human dignity. They wanted to see if he would finally break and scream.

Ashley said fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. “What now? What are you going to do?” Lindsey asked, looking at her in concern. “I don’t know, but I need to disappear, I…” “Say no more sweetie, just tell me the place, I’ll take care of everything,” Lindsey said looking at her with a smile on her lips. “Lin, I can’t let you…” “Gaal my dad is a billionaire, his money is my money plus I get paid working as a doctor remember,” Lindsey said raising her eyebrow at her.

She recoiled, her heart racing, taken aback by the force of his response. Neil took a step toward her, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Ivan Anderson is not a billionaire, Alysha. He's almost a trillionaire," he spat, the words hanging in the air like an ominous cloud. Alysha’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible as the realization sank in. The man she had unknowingly given her heart to was not just wealthy—he was beyond comprehension. But Neil wasn’t done.

“You will pay for this. Mark my words—you will regret every second!” Alexander’s gaze didn’t soften. It burned with fury, disbelief, and a sense of betrayal so deep it made the air feel heavy. He didn’t listen. He didn’t want to. All he saw were the images, the staged proof, the lie that had been fed to him—and the man who dared to be in them. Victoria leaned back, invisible smugness painting her face like a mask. Her victory was silent but deafening. The trap had snapped shut, and Alexander, the man who rarely lost control, was furious, helpless, and utterly convinced of the betrayal before him.

she gave me a sorry look then winked at me. So much for behaving how she wanted. I took the whirring elevator downstairs. "Where to, sir?" Charles asked, as he opened the car door. "Caine's duplex." When the car was moving again, I asked, "Any calls for me here?" "Just one, sir. Five minutes ago." "Let me guess, Michelle Donovan?" "No, sir. It's her husband. Ashram Al Ali." That wasn't a good sign. *** Ashram was twenty five years old when he became a billionaire. He was ruthless, unlike his father who didn't want to go all capitalist.

“He was crying, they took him aside. They asked questions. They said the car belongs to a billionaire. They said the man is angry. They want the whole door replaced. They took your number. They said the owner will decide punishment.” Pearl felt her throat tighten. A billionaire and a red convoy. Pearl ’s mind replayed every small detail she had heard about billionaires. Their influence, their power, their wealth, their obsession with their cars and their meanness. Pearl sat down slowly, her face drained of color. “Mama… you should have stopped him.” The grandmother lowered her head. “I tried, I did not see him move, I was holding Savior. I have really failed.” Pearl covered her eyes with bot

an old man shouted, waving his fist. Josephine turned to see a sleek black Mercedes-Benz parked outside, and a tall man emerged from it. He looked composed, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He handed the old man a wad of cash, his expression calm but apologetic. “Is that…?” Josephine’s voice trailed off as the man approached. Becky leaned in, whispering. “That’s Julian Highlander, the richest man in town. Owns half the businesses here.” Josephine’s heart skipped a beat. Julian. The name stirred memories.