Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlson

I stood at the edge of the ballroom, a black blot on my husband’s perfect canvas. While Jensen Carlson stood under the crystal chandeliers as the master of his universe, the guests whispered that his "friend" Aubree was a much better match for him than I ever could be. My stomach was twisting in sharp, jagged cramps from what I knew was acute appendicitis, but to the Carlson family, I wasn't a wife—I was a utility. My mother-in-law called me a "drill bit" and ordered me to drive Jensen home like a servant because his "optics" mattered more than my internal organs. When I arrived, Jensen didn't ask why I was shaking; he just snapped that my black coat was "depressing" and told me to stop "fidgeting" with my medication. He spent the night whispering to Aubree, then came home and fed my divorce papers into a shredder, mocking me for thinking I could survive a week without the Carlson name. The next day, he humiliated me in front of my entire department, accusing me of flirting with staff just as I was about to collapse from the pain. I had given up my PhD for this man and secretly written the code that built his billion-dollar empire, yet he viewed me as nothing more than a "depreciating asset." Even as I lay shivering on the hardwood floor because his mother locked the guest rooms to force me into his bed, he only sneered, asking if he was "that repulsive" when the pain made me vomit. "If you're not in the car by seven, I'll cut off your grandfather's medical funding." That was the final thread. I didn't go to the gala. Instead, I reclaimed my original patents, wiped my server access, and met him on the curb with a cardboard box and a resignation letter. "I'm not your wife anymore, Jensen. And I'm not your employee." As my Uber pulled away, leaving him clutching a revoked patent and a divorce petition, I realized I wasn't losing everything—I was finally starting to breathe.

Chapters

Chapter 3

The door to the CEO's office was heavy mahogany, a barrier meant to intimidate. Alexia didn't knock.

She pushed it open and walked in.

Jensen was behind his desk, signing a stack of documents. He didn't look up.

I didn't order coffee, he said. "Get out."

Alexia walked to the desk. Her legs felt like lead, but her mind was strangely clear. The pain in her side had sharpened into a singular point of focus. It clarified things.

She placed the blue folder on top of the document he was signing.

He stopped writing. He stared at the blue folder for a second before looking up. His eyes were narrowed.

What is this? Another invoice for one of your charities?

Alexia took a breath. "It's a divorce agreement, Jensen. I've already signed it."

For a moment, there was no sound but the hum of the central air. Jensen stared at her. Then, a short, sharp laugh escaped his lips.

He flipped the folder open, glancing at the pages with a look of utter boredom. "Is this the new strategy? Brinkmanship?"

He didn't read it. He didn't see the clauses where Alexia waived her rights to the spousal support. He didn't see the section where she relinquished claim to the penthouse.

If you want a higher allowance, Alexia, talk to the CFO. Don't waste my time with theatrics.

Alexia reached out and placed her hand on the folder. "I don't want your money. I'm leaving with what I came with. Nothing."

He looked at her then. Really looked at her. For a second, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. But he crushed it instantly, replacing it with arrogance.

You? Leave?

He stood up and walked around the desk. He towered over her. He smelled of expensive soap and authority.

You wouldn't last a week without the Carlson name, he said softly. "You like the credit cards. You like the galas. You like pretending you belong."

Alexia looked up at him. She saw the man she had loved since she was nineteen. The man she had given up a PhD for. The man she had written code for in the middle of the night so he could take credit in the morning.

I don't want any of it, she said. "I just want to breathe."

His jaw tightened. He grabbed the folder from the desk.

You are my wife, he said. "That is a lifetime contract. We have a merger pending. We have the shareholder meeting next week."

He walked to the shredder in the corner of the room.

Jensen, don't, Alexia said, but her voice was calm.

He fed the document into the machine. The grinding noise was loud, violent. It ate the paper, strip by strip.

There, he said, dusting his hands off. "Negotiation over."

He walked back to her, leaning in close. His voice was a low growl. "Stop acting like a child. Go home. Get ready for the dinner on Friday. And never pull a stunt like this again."

He turned his back to her.

Alexia watched him. She realized then that he didn't keep her because he loved her. He kept her because he owned her. She was an asset. A depreciating one, perhaps, but still his.

I have another copy, she whispered.

He didn't turn around. "Get out."

Alexia walked out. She closed the door softly behind her.

She leaned against the wall in the corridor, her knees giving way. She slid down until she was crouching on the floor. She couldn't breathe. The pain was blinding now.

But through the pain, she felt something else. Rage.

She pulled her phone from her pocket. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely type. She scrolled past Jensen's name. She scrolled past Eleanor's.

She pressed the contact for the one person in the Carlson family who hated Jensen almost as much as she did right now.

Clark.

She put the phone to her ear.

Clark, she said when he answered. "I need a favor."

Continue to next part

The day I received the $1.8 billion reimbursement, I promptly quit my job. I poured a billion into my fiancé's project and assembled a first-rate medical team for my supposedly paralyzed brother-in-law. On my way home, I called Dakota Snyder, joking that I was now jobless and planning to become a stay-at-home spouse. He hung up without a word. Concerned something might be wrong at home, I rushed back, feeling anxious. As soon as I walked into the yard, I overheard my brother-in-law grumbling that I was a liability. "She still thinks she can remain my sister-in-law? If it weren't for her money, I wouldn't have pretended to be paralyzed!" "And besides, my brother has already landed a rich heiress. That useless woman can wait to be shown the door!" I stood there, shocked. Faking paralysis?

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.8

Dangerously Submerged

8.8

I had been by Leo's side for ten years. But three years ago, his world shattered. His parents betrayed him, leaving him with emotional detachment disorder, depression, and severe mysophobia. He changed completely. He became cold and suspicious. He didn't believe Angelina truly loved him, despite their decade-long relationship. Terrified of betrayal, he tested her constantly. Angelina loved him and endured it all with immense patience. But everything changed when his childhood sweetheart, Samantha, returned.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.2

Divorcing the Heiress? Bad Idea.

9.2

"Evan!" I called out, my voice bright with genuine delight. "Perfect timing. Come help us choose." He paused in the entryway, his expression unreadable as his gaze swept from me to the strollers, then back again. Something flickered across his face—was it irritation? No, impossible. We never fought. "We're deciding between these two," I continued, gesturing between them with an enthusiasm I hoped would be contagious. "I think the silver one is more practical, but the navy is so beautiful. What do you think? Which one do you see our baby in?" Evan set his briefcase down with a deliberate slowness that made my stomach tighten. He didn't look at the strollers. He didn't look at Sarah. His eyes fixed on me with an intensity that felt wrong, felt cold. I suddenly shivered. "Lia," that was when he called my name, his voice flat and emotionless. "I want a divorce."

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.9

His Ashes, Her Crown

8.9

Four years. That's how long Ruby gave Dale everything: her brilliance, her strategies, her entire future. All for a man who promised to be her family after she lost her parents. One scholarship to London. One shattered glass table. One broken photograph of her parents. That's all it took for Ruby to discover the truth: her boyfriend had been living a double life with his dead best friend's sister, Sofia. While Ruby bled from glass wounds, Dale chose his lover over his girlfriend. While she mourned her parents' destroyed photograph, he was planning a secret engagement. While she stood humiliated in a cheap knockoff dress at Sofia's birthday party, they were already counting down to their wedding. But Dale made one crucial mistake, he underestimated the woman whose brain built his entire company. Now she's on a plane to London with every strategy she ever created for him. Every client weakness. Every business secret. And Dale has no idea what's coming for him. The broken woman he destroyed is gone. What's left is someone with nothing to lose. He stole four years of her life and built his empire on her work. Time to take everything from his. Or not.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.6

MARRIED TO THE CEO WHO RUINED ME: HIS BRIDE, HIS REVENGE

8.6

He shattered her heart to avenge a past that wasn’t hers. Now he desires her in his bed—as his wife. Marceline Valino once believed in love. She gave her heart—and her innocence—to Cross Dejava, the boy who whispered promises in the dark, igniting dreams of a forever that felt so real. But by morning, her world was left in ruins. Private photos were leaked, her name dragged through the mud, and at the eye of the storm? Cross, smirking, cold, and ruthless. “You mean nothing to me,” he said, delivering a blow that would leave scars. “You’re just the bastard daughter of my father’s mistress.” His vengeance had never aimed at her heart; it was meant to punish the daughter for her mother’s sins—an ex-lover who had torn his family apart. Pregnant and abandoned, Marceline begged for mercy, but all she received was the echo of his silence. When she lost the child, she lost every last piece of the girl she used to be. Now, five years later, she’s preparing to return—broke, desperate, and willing to do anything to save her ailing mother. Anything… except this. Because the man extending a lifeline isn’t a savior. It’s Cross. And he has no desire for her heartfelt apologies; he craves her complete submission. A contract marriage awaits her. No love. No escape. No mercy. But Marceline isn’t the naive girl he once broke. She’s a woman who has risen from the ashes, ready to play his game. And as the pieces of their lives fall into place, she’s determining when—exactly—she will ignite a fire that could burn it all down. The future promises a reckoning, and she's preparing to seize it.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.9

My Heart, His Spare Part

8.9

My bodyguard, Grant, took the full force of a speeding car meant for me. In that moment, I realized I loved him. He was my protector, and I thought his fierce devotion was mine alone. But in the hospital, I overheard the truth. He hadn't saved me; he'd saved my kidney. I wasn't the woman he loved. I was just the "best option" for his sick sister's transplant. Every tender gesture, every watchful glance, was a lie designed to keep his organ donor safe and compliant. The man I adored saw me as nothing more than a collection of spare parts. The love I thought we shared was a carefully constructed trap, and I had been the fool who walked right in. The girl who believed in fairy tales died in that sterile hospital hallway. I picked up my phone, my hand steady. "Dad," I said, my voice cold as ice. "I'm ready to consider the alliance with the Powell family."

Fantasy Modern Romance

Too Late For Regret, Mr. Carlson

Chapter 3

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