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 9
The room had gone quiet again.
Not empty-never empty in a hospital-but settled into that strange pause between interruptions. Machines hummed. A cart rattled somewhere down the corridor. Voices rose and fell beyond the door, lives moving on while hers stayed pinned to this narrow bed.
Mia stared at the ceiling, counting nothing.
Chris stood near the window.
He hadn't sat. Hadn't leaned. Just stood there with his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff, like he didn't trust himself to relax. The fluorescent light caught the side of his face-sharp cheekbone, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. His skin was a deep, warm, familiar in a way that made her chest tighten without permission. He looked taller than she remembered, or maybe she was just smaller now, trapped under wires and sheets and too many things she couldn't escape.
She broke the silence first.
"Why are you here?"
Her voice surprised her. Steadier than she felt. Low. Flat.
Chris turned from the window slowly, as the movement cost him something. His eyes-dark, intent, always too observant-met hers. He didn't answer right away.
"I had to be," he said finally.
"That's not an answer."
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. It didn't last. "It's the only one I've got."
Mia let out a breath through her nose. "You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Show up when everything's already broken." She shifted slightly, pain flaring along her ribs. She ignored it. "And then act like it was inevitable."
Chris stepped closer, stopping at the foot of the bed. He didn't touch her. Didn't reach for her hand the way he used to, back when that felt allowed.
"Someone had to find you," he said quietly. "You didn't exactly leave a trail."
Her fingers curled into the sheet. "I wasn't trying to be found."
"I know."
That-that soft certainty-made something inside her snap.
"Then why are you here?" she asked again, sharper now. "If you know I didn't want this."
His gaze dropped briefly, then lifted again. "Because you don't get to disappear like that, Iris."
Her chest tightened. "Watch me."
Chris exhaled slowly, like he was counting to ten in his head. "You almost died."
"But I didn't."
"You're still bleeding internally."
"But I'm still here."
"And you're pregnant." The words came out rougher than the rest. Less controlled.
Mia's hand slid instinctively to her stomach.
"I know."
"They're worried," he continued. "They should be. This isn't something you can be stubborn about."
Her eyes flashed. "Don't talk to me like that."
"I'm talking to you like someone who doesn't want to lose you."
She laughed then. A short, humorless sound. "You don't get to want that anymore."
Chris stiffened. "That's not fair."
"Neither is showing up now," she shot back. "Neither is standing there like you still have a say."
His jaw worked. "You made me your trustee."
"I made you paperwork," she snapped. "Years ago. When I thought-" She stopped herself. Swallowed. "When things were different."
"They were real," he said immediately.
She looked away. Toward the monitor. Toward anything that wasn't his eyes. "That doesn't mean they still are."
Silence pressed in again, heavier this time.
Chris broke it carefully. "The doctors said they need to terminate."
Her head snapped back toward him. "I said no."
"And they said that might kill you."
"Then that's my choice."
"That's not a choice," he said, voice rising despite himself. "That's punishment."
Her breath hitched. "You don't get to decide what this is."
"I get to care whether you live."
"Why?" she demanded. "Why do you care so much now?"
He stared at her, something naked flickering across his face before he could hide it. "Because I never stopped."
The words hung between them, fragile and dangerous.
Mia shook her head. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't say it like that," she whispered. "Don't say it like it changes anything."
Chris took another step closer. "It changes everything."
"No," she said. Her voice trembled now, but she didn't stop. "It changes nothing. You left. I moved on. I built a life-"
"With a man who didn't care about you," he cut in.
Her eyes burned. "You don't know that."
"I know he's not here."
The truth of it hit harder than she expected.
Mia's voice dropped. "That doesn't make you right."
"It makes him absent," Chris said. "And it makes this-" He gestured toward her stomach, then stopped himself, hand falling back to his side. "This is complicated."
Her mouth twisted. "It's not complicated to me."
"It should be," he insisted. "The father doesn't want it. He doesn't want you. What kind of life is that for a child?"
Her anger flared hot and sudden, burning away the ache and the fear.
"Don't you dare," she said. "Don't you dare talk about my child like it's a mistake."
Chris's eyes widened slightly. "I didn't say-"
"You implied it," she shot back. "You said it's of no use."
He hesitated. Just a fraction too long.
Mia felt something inside her crack open.
"Say it again," she challenged. "Say it to my face."
"That's not what I meant," he said, but his voice had lost some of its certainty now.
"You meant it," she said. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn't let them fall. "You meant that because the father is a deadbeat, because he walked away, because he doesn't care-this baby shouldn't exist."
"That's not-"
"That's exactly what you meant," she said, louder now. "And you don't get to decide that. Not you. Not the doctors. Not him."
Chris ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through his control. "Mia, you're risking everything for someone who hasn't even had a chance to be wanted."
Her breath shook. "I want them."
The room went still.
Chris stared at her. Really looked at her.
"You're doing this alone," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"And you're okay with that?"
She hesitated. Just for a second. Then she nodded. "I'd rather be alone than give up something that's already mine."
His voice softened. "You don't have to do it alone."
Her laugh broke then, sharp and bitter. "You don't get to offer that now."
"I'm offering it anyway."
"No," she said. "You're trying to fix something that isn't yours anymore."
His eyes darkened. "That's not fair."
"Neither is telling me to erase my child because it makes things easier."
"That's not-"
"Leave," she said suddenly.
Chris froze. "Iris-"
"I said leave."
The nurse outside shifted, clearly listening now.
Chris stepped back, disbelief written across his face. "You don't mean that."
"Yes," she said. Her voice was shaking, but her resolve wasn't. "I do."
He stared at her for a long moment, pain and anger warring in his expression. "You're making a mistake."
She met his gaze. "Maybe. But it's mine."
His mouth pressed into a hard line.
"Fine," he said. "I tried."
He turned sharply, crossing the room in long strides. At the door, he paused, his hand on the handle.
"You always do this," he said without looking back. "You shut people out and call it strength."
Her chest ached. "And you always mistake control for care."
He flinched.
Then he left.
The door closed harder than necessary.
Mia stared at it long after he was gone, her heart pounding too fast, her breath uneven. The room felt colder now. Larger. Empty in a way it hadn't been before.
Her hand slid back to her stomach, trembling.
"I'm still here," she whispered. To herself. To the life inside her. "I'm not leaving."
Mia covered her face with a pillow and cried.
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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.