Too late for regret: Ex-husband and his son wants me back
Seven years. A three-million-dollar contract. A heart broken into pieces.
Serena Powell was never more than a ghost in her own home. Hired by a billionaire to heal his broken son, she spent seven years playing the role of a devoted wife and mother, hiding the jagged scar on her palm,a reminder of the night she saved Victor's life. She thought her love had finally overwritten the contract. She was wrong.
When Victor's "true love," Eliza, returns with a child of her own, the fairy tale dissolves. Overnight, Serena is branded an outsider. Her husband treats her like a servant, and her son,the boy she raised as her own,tells her to "just die already" so Eliza can take her place.
Accused of a crime she didn't commit and slapped by the man she sacrificed everything for, Serena finally realizes the truth: In a world where feelings come with a price tag, she's already paid too much.
Now, the divorce papers are signed, the suitcase is packed, and a prestigious design firm in Glonia is calling her name. Serena is done being a substitute. But as she walks out the door, Victor is about to learn that some things,once broken,can never be repaired. Especially when he realizes he didn't just lose a contract... he lost the only woman who ever truly loved him.
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Chapter 7
Victor gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. He thought, 'Blocked? Perfect. Serena, you really went all in this time!
The stench of disinfectant in the hospital made Victor feel suffocated, and seeing Leon hooked up to an IV with his face so pale only made his chest tighten with frustration.
After finally getting Leon to fall asleep, Victor rubbed his sore shoulders and stood up, ready to head home and grab some clean clothes.
"Serena, get out here." Victor slammed the front door open, furious, ready to demand why Serena left without saying a word.
But what greeted him was complete silence. The empty house showed no trace of life.
Victor's heart dropped. He quickly strode into the bedroom and opened the door. Serena's clothes and makeup products were all gone. Only an empty
closet and bare bed remained.
Victor clenched his fist and slammed it into the wall, his knuckles cracking loudly. He pulled out his phone and dialed Serena's number again, but it still went straight to voicemail.
"Damn it," Victor growled and threw the phone hard onto the bed. He stormed out and drove straight to the company.
"Where's Serena?" Victor snapped.
The receptionist jumped at the anger in his voice. "Mr. Powell, Mrs. Powell already resigned."
"Resigned?" Victor couldn't believe it. "When?"
"She submitted her resignation a few days ago. Everything's been processed today."
"A few days ago?" Victor shouted. "Who gave her permission to resign?"
"It was approved by HR. Mrs. Powell submitted the request, and once the paperwork checked out, it was cleared."
"Where is she now?"
"I'm sorry, we don't know."
Victor stood frozen. He forced himself to stay calm and thought, 'Right now, Leon is what matters most.'
A few employees walked out of the elevator and happened to catch a glimpse of Victor's furious figure storming off.
"Hey, did you see that? Mr. Powell looked really pissed just now. I think he's looking for Serena."
"Yeah, I saw it. But Serena resigned days ago. How's he only finding out now? Aren't they married?"
"Seri's design skills are top–notch. If it weren't for taking care of the kid and Victor, she should've gotten the design director role a long time ago."
"It's a shame. Such a talented designer just up and left like that."
Right then, the design director stepped out of the elevator and overheard them. She sighed and said, "To be honest, with her ability, she should've taken over my position long ago." Back in the hospital room, Leon's soft sobs echoed faintly, Victor's chest tightened. He pushed the door open and stepped in quickly.
Leon lay in the hospital bed, his face flushed with fever. The tiny hand attached to the IV was gripping the blanket weakly, his pillow soaked in tears.
"Shh, it's okay. Don't cry" A young nurse was trying to soothe him in a gentle voice, but it clearly wasn't working–Leon just cried louder.
"Daddy, Daddy," Leon mumbled,
Seeing this, the fire in Victor's chest flared up again. He thought, 'Serena, how can you be so heartless? Leon's this sick and you're still busy throwing a tantrum.'
He rushed to the bed and scooped Leon into his arms. "It's okay, Leon. Daddy's here."
Leon clung tightly to Victor's neck. His cries slowly quieted, "Daddy, where did you go? I was scared," Leon sobbed.
Victor stroked his back, feeling sorry for Leon. "I just went to get some clothes. I'm sorry for leaving you alone."
The nurse, seeing Victor had returned, was about to leave.
"Miss, wait." Victor stopped her. "Can I borrow your phone for a second? Mine's broken."
The nurse hesitated for a moment before handing over her phone.
"Thank you," Victor said repeatedly, then quickly turned away to dial a number.
After a few rings, Serena's voice came through. "Hello?"
"Serena, what the hell are you trying to do? Leon's sick," Victor growled through clenched teeth the moment the call connected.
On the other end, Serena's fingers tightened slightly around the phone, then her cold voice came slowly. "Since Leon's sick, take good care of him."
Victor was stunned. "Are you even his mom? He's sick, and you just walked away like it's nothing?"
Serena said, "Since Leon loves Eliza so much, let her take care of him."
Hearing the faint sarcasm in Serena's tone, Victor froze. 'Ellie?' he thought.
In that instant, he understood exactly what Serena meant. "Serena/you-"
Before he could finish, Leon's complaints rang out beside him. "You wretch, it's all your fault I got sick. Ellie's way better than you. I hate you."
Victor swallowed his fury and spoke into the phone, "Serena, you'd better come back right now or else-"
"Or else what?" Serena cut him off. "Victor, stop threatening me. We're divorced." With that, she hung up.
The busy tone on the other end made Victor's face twist with rage. 'Serena, you're really something else,' he thought.
It was a long moment before he took a deep breath and picked up his own phone, dialing another number. "Hi. Yes, I need a caregiver. The most professional one you've got."
Only after arranging for Leon's care did Victor slump down in the chair by the hospital bed, completely drained.
Back then, whenever Leon got sick, Serena was the one who took care of everything. Now, Victor finally realized just how exhausting it was to look after a
sick child.
The next day, Eliza showed up at the hospital room with a gift basket after hearing that Leon was sick. She stood at the door, looking worried. "How's Leon doing?"
Seeing how worn out Victor looked, she felt bad for him. "Vic, you have take care of yourself too."
Victor forced a small smile, "
fine, just a little tired. Ellie, why are you here? You're still recovering–I told you to rest."
"I'm okay. I heard Leon was sick and got worried, so I came to check on him." Eliza walked over to the bed and gently stroked Leon's face.
Then she turned to Victor.
Mrs. Powell? I haven't seen her."
Victor shook his head. "No idea. And I don't care. She blocked me."
A dark glint passed through Eliza's eyes, and her brows quickly knitted together. "How did that happen? Did Mrs. Powell misunderstand something? It's all my fault. I shouldn't have moved in."
Victor reached out and gently held her shoulders to comfort her, saying, "It's not your fault. This has nothing to do with you."
Eliza lowered her head, looking guilty. "Maybe Oliver and I should move out soon. Vic, we can't keep causing you trouble."
Victor's eyes rested on her slightly bowed head. "Ellie, this isn't your fault," he remarked, holding her hand with concern.
Eliza sighed, "But Vic, I don't want to come between your family. Maybe I should stop seeing you altogether."
Victor suddenly panicked and gripped her hand tighter. "Ellie, don't say that. Serena's the one who kept going after you and even pushed you down the stairs. She crossed the line."
Eliza lifted her head, her eyes filled with tears. "But-"
Victor cut in, "No buts. You're not going anywhere. I want to see how much longer Serena plans to keep acting like this."
That night, Victor received a package at the hospital.
Inside was a set of documents.
At the very top
A divorce agreement. Already signed.
His grip tightened as his eyes dropped to the bottom of the page. Serena's name was there, written cleanly and without hesitation.
A small note slipped out and fell to the floor.
Victor picked it up.
"I gave you seven years," it read. "Now I'm giving myself a chance to live."
For the first time, something in his chest cracked.
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8.1
When the private elevator pinged. That was the moment Eleanor's two-and-a-half years as a billionaire's perfect fake girlfriend abruptly ended.
Julian was terminating her services early because his real first love was moving into the penthouse tomorrow.
His assistant stood by the marble counter, bracing for a screaming match. He handed over a brutal non-disclosure agreement.
He slid a five-million-dollar check across the table, fully expecting her to cry, beg, or throw the money back in his face.
"Miss Palmer... Giselle is moving in tomorrow," he warned.
Instead, Eleanor calmly borrowed his Montblanc pen, signed her name three times without hesitation, and slipped the money into her planner.
"Congratulations to Mr. Caldwell-Prentice on finally getting what he wants," she smiled flawlessly.
They all thought she was just a high-end, emotionless mercenary who felt absolutely nothing for the men she served.
They didn't know she was actually Cara Love, the last surviving heir of the ruined Love Foundation, living under a fake name to avenge her dead father.
For years, she swallowed her burning hatred, playing the perfect emotional substitute to buy dark web intel and hide her unnatural, rapid-healing body from a ruthless medical syndicate.
But now, a tech billionaire client had just uncovered her true identity, and her burner phone flashed with a terrifying emergency alert.
The syndicate had found her.
Eleanor grabbed her suitcase and ordered the private jet back to New York.
The facade was over; it was time to face the deadly storm.
8.3
I grew up feeling like an adopted child. They made me feel I was not part of them. They said I could not do as good as my sister. They said my younger sister was better in every aspect. It was understandable coming from my step mother. But my step father should have protected me. But he joined them.
That day my sister announced:
"My billionaire, Jordan, has asked me to marry him, and I said yes."
They were all happy and they told me again:
"Laura, learn from your sister. Do something productive with your life."
I took their advice, and married my sister's fiance.
9.1
June woke up transmigrated into the body of a ruthless billionaire's toxic, disposable wife.
Before she could even process the massive Beverly Hills mansion, a cold system voice announced she had exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining.
To survive, she was forced to bind with the system and strictly maintain the original owner's "brainless, abusive drama queen" persona to earn hours to live.
She was forced to violently slap hot coffee out of a terrified maid's hands and physically spank her manipulative five-year-old stepson.
When she tried to escape this nightmare by throwing divorce papers at her terrifying husband, Isaac Walton, he simply ripped them to shreds.
Every time she tried to be reasonable or show a hint of kindness, the system tortured her with agonizing cardiac pain, cementing her status as the most hated monster in the family.
The most absurd part happened when she threw a hysterical, system-mandated tantrum over a gossip magazine, and Isaac's icy demeanor suddenly melted.
He gently touched her hair, offering the one thing she desperately needed.
"Stop crying. I'll handle it."
Just as a spark of hope ignited in her chest, the system's critical death warning exploded in her skull: accepting his sympathy would instantly deduct thirty days of her life.
To stay alive, June had no choice but to violently slap away the only hand reaching out to save her, forcing herself to play the greedy villain while her husband's gaze turned dangerously dark.
7.1
I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive.
Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice.
"It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison."
She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole.
I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath.
Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him.
"I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."
9.0
Irina Volkov has three rules: no emotions, no real names, and never meet in person. For two years she has survived on those rules alone - running romance scams on wealthy men, funneling every stolen dollar toward the crushing debt her abusive stepfather signed in her name before she escaped. She is not greedy. She is desperate. And she is very, very good.
Until she targets Nikolai Dragunov.
What Irina doesn't know is that Nikolai has known about her from the beginning. He created the perfect bait - a lonely businessman with money to burn - and waited for her to find him. Because in a world Nikolai controls down to the last detail, Irina Volkov is the only unpredictable thing left. He wanted to see how far she would go.
Now the game is over. The con is exposed. And Nikolai isn't asking for his money back. He's keeping her.
Trapped in his penthouse with nowhere to run and a Bratva boss who looks at her like she's both a puzzle and a prize, Irina has to survive the most dangerous mark she's ever made - and somehow stop herself from falling for him in the process.
She's a liar. He's a monster. And neither of them expected to fall.
"You took my money, malyshka. Now you belong to me."
8.5
He rejected her. He tried to kill her. And he called their unborn child an abomination. Now, Emily Reed is under the protection of the most dangerous Alpha she's ever met-a man who doesn't play by the rules.
One thing is certain: in Ethan Carter's world, fear is currency, and she just became priceless.