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Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband Novel Cover

Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband

I was twenty-five weeks pregnant, sitting on a cracked plastic chair at the hospital, when my billionaire husband looked me right in the eye and called me "it." Ellsworth didn't recognize his own wife in my tight coat and swollen ankles; he was too busy shielding his mistress, Jolie, from the "messy cleaning lady" in the hallway. "Just ignore it," he told his assistant as I struggled to stand. "Close the doors. We’re running late for the gala." He left me there with a high-risk pregnancy diagnosis and a prescription I couldn't afford, while he drove off in a Maybach with a woman who had meticulously stolen my entire identity. When I returned to our cold mansion, the nightmare continued. His grandmother treated me like a breeding animal, and the housekeeper tried to starve me because Ellsworth said my weight gain was "embarrassing" to the family name. I soon realized the sick truth: Jolie wasn't just his lover; she was a mimic, wearing my old clothes and using my old hair tutorials to play the role of the woman I was before the Banks family broke me. How could a man who once promised to love me now treat me like a stain on his perfect life? Why was he keeping me trapped in a guest room while parading a fake version of me around the city? They thought I was a broken, penniless ghost with nowhere to go, but they forgot I was once the sharpest financial mind of my generation. While Ellsworth was busy playing house with a replica, I was secretly accepting a fully funded PhD and auditing his illegal shell companies from the shadows of his own home. He thinks he can keep me trapped in this marriage just to secure his trust fund. He has no idea that I’m not just leaving—I’m going to burn his empire to the ground before the baby is even born.
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Chapter 6

"Can you hear me?" Evan's face appeared on the screen. He was in his office at Stanford, books piled high behind him.

"Loud and clear," Cressie said. She was sitting on the floor of her West Wing room, the door locked.

"I got the preliminary data you sent," Evan said. He sounded excited. "Cressie, this is gold. The way Banks Capital is leveraging these shell companies... it's legal, but barely. If the SEC saw this specifically the debt ratios..."

"They're over-leveraged," Cressie said, her eyes scanning the spreadsheet on her screen. "Ellsworth is betting on the merger to cover the liquidity gap. If the merger delays, the house of cards falls."

"Exactly. Look, I need you to dig deeper into the trust fund structure. That's the key to my research on dynastic wealth failures. I have set up the consulting contract. The payment will come through a blind LLC, registered in Delaware. It's perfectly legal, categorized as independent analysis fees."

"Perfect," Cressie said. "I need clean money. No trails back to the Winters estate."

"The wire is initiated. Your code name is Phoenix."

"Phoenix?"

"Rising from the ashes," Evan smiled. "Fitting, don't you think?"

A knock at the door made her jump.

"I have to go," she whispered. She slammed the laptop shut and shoved it under a pillow.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"It's me." Ellsworth.

She unlocked the door. He was standing there holding a flat cardboard box. The smell of pepperoni and cheap cheese wafted in.

"Higgins said she... overreacted this morning," Ellsworth mumbled. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "I brought you a pizza."

It was a peace offering. A lazy, thoughtless peace offering.

Cressie looked at the pizza. The grease was soaking through the bottom of the box.

"I hate pepperoni," she said. "And since the first trimester, the smell of cured meat makes me violently ill."

Ellsworth blinked. "Since when?"

"Since five months ago. You would know that if you ever asked me how the pregnancy was going. Or if you attended a single dinner at home instead of 'working late'."

Ellsworth looked at the box, then at her. He looked lost. "I... I didn't know."

"You don't know a lot of things," Cressie said.

She took the box from him. She walked to the window, opened it, and set the box on the sill outside. "Thanks. I'll let the birds eat it."

Ellsworth's face hardened. "You're being difficult on purpose."

"I'm being honest," Cressie said. "There's a difference."

She walked back to the bed and sat down. "Was there anything else? Or can I go back to... resting?"

Ellsworth lingered in the doorway. His eyes swept the room. They landed on the pillow where the laptop was hidden. A corner of silver metal was sticking out.

"What are you doing in here all day?" he asked suspiciously.

"Knitting," Cressie lied smoothly. "Booties for your heir."

Ellsworth scoffed. "Right."

He turned and left.

As soon as he was gone, Cressie pulled the laptop out. Her phone pinged. A notification from the bank.

Deposit Received: $15,000.00.

Sender: Helix Consulting Group LLC.

Cressie smiled. It was the first money she had earned in three years. It felt better than any allowance Ellsworth had ever given her.

She opened a food delivery app. She ordered a steak. A filet mignon, medium rare, with truffle mashed potatoes and asparagus.

When it arrived forty minutes later, she signed for it at the front door while Higgins watched, mouth agape.

"Put it on my tab," Cressie winked at the butler. "I'm paying for this one myself."

---

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