The Billionaire's Regret: Too Late to Love
He betrayed his wife.
He buried her memory.
And he never knew she carried his sons.
Allen Hale had everything-power, wealth, and a woman who loved him without conditions. Until he chose another woman and signed away his marriage without regret.
Mia Hale vanished the night their divorce was finalized. The world said she died. Allen believed it-and moved on.
But Mia lived.
Reborn as Iris Morris, the sole heiress of a legendary billionaire dynasty, she returns years later with unimaginable power... and two twin boys Allen never knew existed. Boys with their eyes. His blood. His past.
As Iris quietly dismantles Allen's empire, he's forced to face the truth: the woman he destroyed is the one holding his future-and the sons he never deserved.
Now regret is no longer a feeling.
It's a reckoning.
Mia must decide if the man who broke her heart deserves a place in her sons' lives... or if some betrayals come with no second chances.
Because some loves are realized too late- and some regrets last forever.
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Chapter 8
Mia came back to herself in pieces.
Not all at once-never all at once. First the ache. A deep, spreading soreness that made her feel like she'd been folded wrong and left that way. Then the sounds. Low voices. Shoes on tile. A monitor ticking out a rhythm she didn't recognize but somehow knew was hers.
Her eyelids fluttered.
She didn't open them.
She listened.
"...pressure's holding for now."
"For now," another voice echoed. Male. Tired.
"We've done what we can medically. But the pregnancy is complicating things."
That word snagged.
Pregnancy.
Her breath stuttered, shallow and instinctive. A hand-hers-twitched weakly against the sheet.
"Internal bleeding is under control," a woman continued. "But if it spikes again, we're out of options."
There was a pause. The kind doctors used when they were bracing for impact.
"To save her, we'd need to terminate."
The word landed heavily.
Terminate.
Something inside her snapped awake.
No.
The thought came sharp and clear, louder than the pain, louder than the beeping machine. Her heart began to race, the monitor betraying her instantly.
"That's not a decision we can delay," the man said. "She's unstable. One wrong turn and-"
"I'm awake."
Her voice scraped out of her throat, rough and thin, but unmistakably there.
Every sound in the room stopped.
Mia forced her eyes open.
White ceiling. Harsh light. Faces hovering above her-startled, cautious, suddenly alert. The nurse nearest her leaned forward instinctively.
"Miss," she said gently. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes," Mia whispered. "I heard you. I can hear you."
The silence that followed was different now. No longer clinical. No longer distant.
The doctor cleared his throat. "You've been through a lot. You were in an accident. You lost consciousness for some time."
"I know," Mia said. Her voice shook, but not from confusion. "You said you want to... remove it."
The nurse's eyes softened. "We're worried about you."
Mia swallowed. Her throat burned.
"And the baby?"
Another pause.
"There's a heartbeat," the doctor said carefully. "But it's weak. Continuing the pregnancy puts you at serious risk."
Her hand slid, slow and protective, to her stomach. The movement sent a ripple of pain through her, but she didn't stop.
"No," she said.
The word came out small. Then she tried again. "No."
The doctor stepped closer. "Miss, we need you to understand-"
"I understand," she cut in, breath shallow now. "You're saying if I keep it, I might die."
No one corrected her.
Her chest tightened, not with fear, but something sharper. Something colder.
"And if I don't?"
"You'll likely recover fully," the nurse said softly.
Recover.
The word felt foreign. Like it belonged to someone else.
Mia stared past them, at the blank wall beyond the bed. Images flickered behind her eyes-her apartment, empty and echoing. The ring left behind. The door is closing. The silence after.
She'd already died once.
"I'm not agreeing," she said. "Not yet. Not ever."
The doctor exhaled slowly. "We need consent. Or next of kin."
That phrase hit harder than any diagnosis.
Next of kin.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
"I don't have one," she said too quickly.
The nurse hesitated. "Everyone has someone."
Mia shook her head, the movement barely perceptible. "Not anymore."
They exchanged glances. Professional. Concerned.
"We need a name," the doctor said. "A legal contract. A spouse. Parent. Trustee."
Trustee.
The word floated in the air between them, waiting.
"...Chris Argent," the nurse said slowly, reading from a tablet. "He's listed as legal trustee on the record. Is that correct?"
The room tilted.
Mia's breath caught.
Chris.
The name struck something deep and buried, something she'd tried very hard to forget. Memories surged-too fast, too vivid. His voice in a quiet room. The way he watched her when he thought she wasn't looking. The papers she'd signed without reading too closely because she trusted him.
Her eyes flickered.
Just once.
The doctor noticed.
"You know him," he said.
Mia said nothing.
Her silence was answer enough.
"He came in earlier," the nurse added carefully. "Said he was family."
Mia's fingers curled into the sheet.
Family.
The word tasted strange now. Heavy.
A tightness spread through her chest-not fear of dying, not even fear of losing the baby.
Fear of being found.
Of being pulled back into a life she'd already stepped away from.
She closed her eyes.
If they thought she was gone-if the world believed she had slipped through its fingers-then maybe she could finally leave without being followed. Without explanations. Without being claimed.
The idea settled slowly.
Terrifying.
And empowering.
"No," she said suddenly.
The nurse leaned in. "No to what, sweetheart?"
"No next of kin," Mia whispered. "No consent. No termination. I don't have anyone. "
Her heart raced now, but her voice steadied as she spoke. "I make my own decisions."
The doctor watched her for a long moment. "You're asking us to risk your life."
Mia met his gaze. "I've been risking it for years."
Silence stretched again, thick with things unsaid.
"We'll give you time," the nurse said finally. "But not much."
They stepped back, murmuring as they moved away. The room exhaled, the tension thinning but not disappearing.
Mia lay there, staring at the ceiling, her hand still resting over her stomach.
She didn't know if she was being brave.
She only knew she wasn't running.
Footsteps approached.
The door creaked open.
She didn't turn her head.
She didn't need to.
She knew him by the way the room changed when he entered. By the pause in his breathing. By the weight of his presence settling near the bed like something unfinished.
"Iris."
Her name-her real one-spoken softly.
She closed her eyes.
Chris stood there, tall and familiar and older somehow, his dark eyes searching her face like he was afraid she might vanish if he blinked. His shoulders were tense, his jaw set, but there was something raw beneath it. Something unguarded.
"They said you were awake," he said quietly.
She didn't answer.
"I didn't know if-" He stopped himself, swallowed. "I'm here."
Mia finally turned her head.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flared-sharp, undeniable.
And just like that, the past stepped back into the room.
She didn't say anything.
But the truth hovered between them, waiting.
And for the first time, Mia wondered if disappearing was truly escape-
-or if choosing to stay was the bravest thing she'd ever done.
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7.1
Princess Aurelia Blackwood has spent her entire life learning how to obey.
As the sole heir to a modern royal dynasty, her future has already been written, strategic alliances, a public marriage, and a crown that allows no room for personal desire. Love is a luxury she was never meant to claim.
Everything changes the day she meets Dr. Elara Voss, the academy's newest senior lecturer.
Calm, brilliant, and devastatingly attractive, Elara represents everything Aurelia should avoid. Their connection is immediate, unsettling, and impossible to ignore. What begins as restrained conversation and stolen glances soon deepens into something far more dangerous, an emotional bond that threatens duty, reputation, and the crown itself.
The age gap, the hierarchy, and the rules of the monarchy stand firmly between them. When their forbidden relationship is exposed, Aurelia is forced to choose between the life she was born to live and the woman she was never meant to love.
Because some hearts are not meant to be ruled.
Some crowns are meant to be rewritten.
And some love stories are worth breaking tradition for.
7.5
To save my dying father, I made a deal with the billionaire Christopher Kirkland. I became his secret, a bird in a gilded cage he paraded around when it suited him.
But I was just a pawn in his twisted game to win back his ex-girlfriend.
He proved it when he publicly outbid me for my own mother's heirloom necklace, only to gift it to her right in front of me.
Then he threw me out of the penthouse. My few cherished belongings-my books, a photo of my parents-were tossed out.
"Chaney doesn't like clutter," he told me, erasing my entire existence for her.
A text on his phone confirmed the brutal truth.
"Our little game is working perfectly," she'd written. "She's completely fooled."
Years later, after she betrayed him and his empire nearly crumbled, he came back begging. He thought he could buy my forgiveness. He was about to learn that my freedom had no price tag.
8.6
I thought I was living the dream as the wife of a billionaire, until my husband came home at 2 A.M. reeking of expensive Scotch and "Midnight Rose"—the signature perfume of his ex-lover, Lucinda. While I spent my nights alone in the nursery with our sick twins, William was out in the city, making it clear to everyone that our marriage was nothing more than a cold, calculated business merger.
When I finally confronted him with the evidence of his infidelity, he didn’t offer an apology. He simply looked at me with disgust and told me I was a "liability" who should stay home and play the part of the perfect mother while he lived his real life with someone else.
The humiliation reached its peak at the hospital when his grandfather suffered a massive heart attack. William showed up with Lucinda on his arm, comforting her in front of the entire Sterling clan while his mother publicly mocked me for being a useless gold-digger. Even after William tried to force himself on me in a drunken rage the night before, he had the audacity to treat his mistress like the grieving wife while I was pushed into the shadows.
I felt something inside me finally snap. The man I loved had turned into a monster who saw me as an acquisition rather than a human being. I was ready to sign the divorce papers and disappear with nothing but my pride, just to escape the suffocating weight of his indifference.
But then, the dying patriarch called me to his bedside and handed me a sword: five percent of the company’s voting shares and a three-month ultimatum. I’m not running away anymore. I’ve decided to stay for ninety days, but not to save a dead marriage. I’m staying to become the one thing William Sterling never saw coming—his most dangerous nightmare.
8.5
After surviving twenty-one years in a brutal orphanage, I finally returned to my billionaire biological family with the silver pocket watch that proved my identity.
But my relatives didn't care about me; they only loved Corie, the fake daughter who had stolen my life after our mothers switched us during a hospital fire.
On my very first day home, the family faced total ruin over a thirty billion dollar debt.
The creditors demanded a Dunlap daughter marry their comatose, vegetative heir to settle the score.
Without a second thought, my grandmother and uncle pointed their fingers at me.
They claimed Corie was too delicate and precious to spend her life nursing a corpse with a heartbeat.
"You're used to hardship and deprivation," my grandmother sneered, demanding I fulfill my so-called family obligation to save them all.
I looked at these strangers who had ignored my existence for two decades, expecting me to sacrifice my future just so a thief could keep enjoying my stolen wealth.
They thought they were tossing an unwanted orphan into a living hell.
But when I saw the medical file of the comatose heir, a cold thrill ran through my veins.
It was Andres Gillespie.
The man who had taken my innocence during a mountain storm four years ago, and the secret father of my hidden twins.
I calmly set down my coffee cup and smiled at my arrogant family.
"I'll do it. I'll marry him."
8.7
My stepmother sold me like a piece of inventory to a man known for breaking people just to plug the financial crater my father left behind. I was delivered to the Morton estate in the middle of a freezing storm, stripped of my phone, and told that if I didn't make myself useful, my senile grandfather would be evicted from his care facility by noon.
The master of the house, Adonis Morton IV, was a monster living in a silent mausoleum, driven to the brink of madness by a sensory condition that turned every sound into a physical assault. When I was forced into his suite to serve him, he didn't see a human being; he saw a source of agony. In a fit of animalistic rage, he pinned me to the wall and nearly strangled me to death just for the sound of a shattering teacup.
I only survived by using my grandfather’s secret herbal blends and pressure-point therapy to force his overactive nervous system into a drugged sleep. But saving him was my greatest mistake. Instead of letting me go, Adonis moved me into a guest suite connected to his own bedroom by a hidden door. He didn't just want me as a servant; he needed me as a human white-noise machine to drown out the demons in his head.
The nightmare deepened when he took the promissory note that defined my freedom and tore it into confetti. By destroying the debt, he destroyed my exit strategy. He replaced my maid’s uniform with a silver silk dress that clung to my skin but did nothing to hide the dark, ugly bruises his fingers had left on my neck. He branded me as his "primary care associate," a title that was nothing more than a gilded cage.
I felt a sickening sense of injustice as he forced me to sign a contract that banned me from contacting other men and required me to sleep wherever he slept. He looked at me with a possessive heat, calling me his "medication" rather than a woman. My family had sold my body, but Adonis Morton was intent on owning my very presence, using my grandfather’s medical bills as a leash to keep me within twenty feet of him at all times.
Standing in a neglected greenhouse with mud staining my expensive silk, I realized I was no longer a victim waiting for rescue. If I was going to be his medication, I would learn how to be his cure—or his undoing. I began clearing the weeds with a cold, calculated frenzy, determined to turn this prison into my laboratory. He thinks he has trapped a helpless girl, but I am going to pry open the cracks in his stone walls until his entire world comes crashing down.
8.2
I was at the peak of my pop music career, breaking box office records while secretly enduring the nightmare of being my Boston family's forced bone marrow donor.
I thought my boyfriend and producer, Caleb, was my only safe haven.
That was until I saw the custom Rolex I bought him on the wrist of his new artist, Isla.
A quick investigation revealed he wasn't just cheating on me; he was siphoning millions from my accounts and forging my signature to steal my luxury endorsements.
To get rid of me without backlash, Caleb leaked a maliciously edited video to TMZ, framing me as a violent psycho.
The hashtag demanding my cancellation trended worldwide within minutes, and my sponsors started dropping me.
At an elite Malibu gala, Caleb paraded Isla around, playing the abused victim and threatening to blacklist me from the industry.
Isla even fake-cried and threw herself to the ground, accusing me of pushing her out of jealousy.
"If you throw a tantrum here, I will make sure you are blacklisted from every studio in this town."
I had given him my heart and my resources, only for him to try and drain me dry before tossing me to the wolves.
Did he really think I was just a fragile pop princess who would cry and beg for mercy?
With the unedited footage handed to me by a terrifying Wall Street billionaire who suddenly took an obsessive interest in me, I put on my blood-red couture gown.
I walked straight into that gala, kicked Caleb into the infinity pool, and threw the felony fraud lawsuit directly at his wet face.