Her Regret Came Too Late

The Crystal Ballroom of the Grand Plaza Hotel glittered like a tomb of diamonds. Crystal chandeliers spilled light over silk gowns and tailored suits.

Everyone who mattered in the city had gathered to celebrate Dillan—the "golden adopted son" of the Clark family.

I stood near the champagne tower, watching the performance.

Dillan stood at center stage, accepting yet another trophy. His smile was humble, practiced.

Beside him stood Eleanor, one hand resting on the faint swell of her belly. She was pregnant with his child.

My father stood with my mother, both of them beaming at Dillan like he was the son they'd always wanted. Then my father's eyes found me—and the warmth died.

His voice cut through the applause. "Look at Dillan. International award. A pregnant wife. A real man. Built something from nothing." His gaze slid to me like a blade. "Unlike you. That little studio of yours—does it even turn a profit? Victoria pays for everything. Your clothes, your car, your life."

Victoria's hand found my arm. "Lambert works incredibly hard, Spencer. It's not about money."

Her defense should have warmed me. Instead, it carved out a hollow ache. She played the devoted wife so perfectly. And I knew now—every sweet word, every gentle touch—was a lie wrapped in silk.

Dillan's award display caught my eye. The centerpiece was Cloud Bridge. A pedestrian bridge of glass and steel, curving like a ribbon through a forest canopy.

It was my design. I'd sketched it one year ago. I'd shown it to Victoria one night, whispering that I wanted to build it for her—a bridge between her world and mine.

She'd smiled. Said it was beautiful. I'd never shown anyone else.

And now Dillan stood beneath it, accepting applause for my hands' work.

Victoria gave it to him, I realized. She gave him everything.

Dillan noticed me staring. He excused himself from a group of admirers and walked over, glass of red wine swirling lazily in his hand.

"Lambert." He smiled. "Enjoying the exhibit?"

"Tell me how you got the concept," I hissed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Which concept?"

My voice was quiet. "That bridge was mine. I never published it. I never showed anyone except—" I stopped.

"Except Victoria?" Dillan finished for me. His smile widened. "She has good taste, doesn't she? She always did."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. "She said I deserved more than being second in the Clark family. She said she would take care of everything."

My jaw tightened. "Take care of what?"

"Of you." Dillan tilted his head. "She married you to protect me, Lambert. To make sure you never had an heir. Because if you had a child, you might actually matter to the Clarks. And if you mattered, where would that leave me?"

My blood turned to ice water.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Dillan tilted his head. "Eleanor left you for me. Your parents despise you. And the woman who married you?" He laughed softly. "She only married you to protect me."

Then he tipped the glass. Red wine cascaded down his white suit, splattering his face.

"Lambert!" He staggered back, voice rising to a theatrical wail. "Why would you do this? Is it jealousy?"

The ballroom went silent. Then the murmurs began.

"Did you see that? Lambert actually threw wine on Dillan?"

"Oh, Lambert is a loser. He must be jealous of Dillan. Pathetic."

The guests pressed closer. Phones rose to capture the scene. My mother gasped. My father's face turned purple.

Victoria pulled a handkerchief from her purse, the one with embroidered initials she never let me touch, and held it out to Dillan. "Here."

Something inside me snapped.

I grabbed a champagne flute from a passing tray and hurled the contents into Dillan's face.

My father roared, "Get out, you ungrateful bastard!"

"With pleasure." I set down the empty glass. "Goodbye, everyone."

The parking garage swallowed my footsteps. Victoria's heels clicked behind me, sharp and fast.

"What the hell was that?" Her voice shook. "He's done nothing to you! Are you so jealous you can't stand anyone succeeding?"

I turned. "The Cloud Bridge concept. It was in my study. Only you go in there. Even the maids don't."

Panic flickered in her eyes for a moment. Then she forced herself to stay calm. "You think I gave your design to Dillan? That's ridiculous. Dillan's talent speaks for itself."

I didn't argue. What was the point?

"Tomorrow's my birthday," I said, changing the topic. "Come with me to Dragon's Peak. I want to see the sunrise with you. I just need some fresh air."

She hesitated, then nodded.

I smiled at her.

One last sunrise. Then she'd never see me again.