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.

Chapters

Chapter 7

She took an Uber to the Banks Capital tower in Midtown.

The receptionist, a girl named Stacy who usually ignored her, looked up. "Mrs. Banks? I didn't know you were coming in."

"I won't be long," Cressie said, breezing past security.

She took the elevator down to the basement. To the Archives.

It was a windowless room that smelled of dust and toner. This was where they had put her. The Chief of Staff, demoted to "Archivist."

Hillary Farley was sitting on Cressie's desk, filing her nails. Hillary was twenty-four, ambitious, and cruel. She was Ellsworth's favorite "yes-girl."

"Well, well," Hillary smirked. "Look who decided to show up. We have three boxes of tax returns from 2018 to sort. Get to it."

Cressie didn't move toward the boxes. She reached into her bag and pulled out a white envelope.

She slapped it onto the desk.

"What's this?" Hillary asked, blowing on her nails.

"My resignation," Cressie said.

Hillary laughed. It was a high, grating sound. "Resignation? Honey, you can't resign. You're the boss's wife. This is your playpen."

"I'm an employee. I have a contract. And I'm terminating it."

Hillary picked up her coffee cup-a venti latte-and "accidentally" tipped it over.

Brown liquid flooded the desk, soaking the white envelope.

"Oops," Hillary grinned. "Clumsy me. Looks like you'll have to type it up again. If you remember how to use a computer."

The other girls in the office giggled. They weren't laughing because it was funny; they were laughing because they were afraid of Hillary, and by extension, Ellsworth.

Cressie looked at the brown stain spreading across the paper. She didn't get angry. She got cold.

She pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen, turning it around to face Hillary. The voice memo app was open, the waveform pulsing red.

"I've been recording since I walked in," Cressie said calmly. "Workplace harassment. Hostile environment. Destruction of personal property. It's all there."

Hillary's smile faltered. "What?"

"And since this is synced to my cloud instantly," Cressie added, "smashing the phone won't help you."

Hillary stood up, her face paling. "You can't do that."

"I just did. And unless you want this sent to HR-and to the Labor Board-you will sign my exit paperwork. Now."

"What is going on here?"

The voice boomed from the doorway. Ellsworth.

He was flanked by three board members. He was giving a tour. He looked at the spilled coffee, the wet letter, and Cressie holding her phone.

"Cressie?" He frowned. "Are you causing a scene?"

Hillary immediately dissolved into fake tears. "Mr. Banks! I tried to help her with the filing, and she got upset and started recording me!"

Ellsworth looked at Cressie. His eyes were disappointed. "Cressie. Put the phone away. In my office. Now."

Cressie looked at Hillary. She saw the triumph in the girl's eyes.

She looked at Ellsworth. She saw the assumption of guilt.

"Fine," Cressie said.

She walked past Hillary, leaning in close. "You better pray he fires me," she whispered. "Because if I stay, I'll audit you."

Hillary stopped crying instantly.

Cressie followed Ellsworth to the elevator. The ride up to the penthouse was silent.

"Why?" Ellsworth asked, staring at the numbers changing. "Why do you have to embarrass me?"

"I'm resigning," Cressie said. "I'm done being your archivist."

"You're quitting?" Ellsworth looked at her. "To do what? Stay home?"

"Sure," Cressie lied. "To stay home."

Ellsworth let out a breath. He actually looked relieved. "Good. It's better this way. You belong at home with the baby."

Cressie gripped her purse strap. You have no idea, she thought. I don't belong in your home. I belong in your boardroom. And one day, I'll buy it.

---

Continue to next part

In their first year of marriage, Melinda's husband never shared her bed, and the loneliness became a craving. She understood why after catching him kissing her sister-she was just a stand-in. When that restless craving finally sharpened into an ailment, she went to the hospital and met a doctor whose steady hands almost unraveled her. The next day, he showed up as the company's new CEO and made her his assistant. "Sir, I have a husband. Stop hitting on me." She had tried to resist, but eventually, she still became his girlfriend. Her ex begged tearfully, "Melinda, let's start over. Don't leave me." Melinda huffed, "Sorry. I'm not interested in a man who couldn't perform in bed."

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.2

After Beckett Blackwood Rescued His Beloved Intern Girlfriend From a Fire

8.2

A devastating fire leads billionaire Beckett Blackwood to save his intern girlfriend, but the resulting brain damage resets his memory to age eighteen. In his mind, he is still the devoted young man who promised his wife the world—long before their marriage crumbled under the weight of his infidelity and neglect. Now, he looks at her with restored adoration and clingy affection. Yet, refusing to fall back into the painful past, she coldly delivers the harsh truth: they divorced two years ago.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.3

Dumped by the CEO, Claimed by the Titan

8.3

Faye Barnes wakes in a bathtub of blood, her wrist slit, while downstairs her soon-to-be ex-husband and his family wait for her signature. They see a worthless country girl who married up. They have no idea the woman who built Bowen's empire from the shadows now inhabits this body—every strategy, every award, every legend was hers. For three years he took the credit. Now she signs the divorce as a declaration of war. On her way out, she takes down three men to save a teenage girl, unaware that Chaz Savage, the dark king of finance, watches from a black Bentley. He's a predator hunting a puzzle—until the trap closes around him. Bowen's fall is just the opening move in Faye's true game.

Action Billionaire Modern Mystery Romance

9.7

Getting Rid of Pests

9.7

A famous star discovers her true identity as the heiress to the Holmes family, the wealthiest clan in Hemmingville. However, her return is met with hostility when her adoptive sister, Nancy, attempts to humiliate her before the paparazzi. Accusing her of a scandalous past, Nancy demands she strip in public to enter the estate. Having been reborn, the protagonist abandons her former submissive nature. She defies the family's rules, asserting her value and vowing to make her rivals grovel.

Action Billionaire Modern Romance

8.1

Marrying The Crippled Billionaire For Revenge

8.1

I was the top trauma surgeon at the city’s busiest hospital until my family decided I was nothing more than a disposal fee. I stood in my father’s mahogany-lined study, staring at a two-hundred-thousand-dollar check that was meant to buy my silence and my dignity. "Sign the confession, Aurelia," my father demanded, the silver cigar cutter snapping with a violent finality. They wanted me to take the fall for a medical error I never committed, all to protect my sister Dominique’s image before her high-profile merger with the Blackburn family. When I refused to sign my life away, the betrayal turned lethal. My sister planted a priceless sapphire heirloom in my bag and called the security team to search me in front of my ex-fiancé. My mother watched with cold indifference as I was branded a thief, and my father threatened to pull the plug on my grandmother’s nursing home payments by noon if I didn't vanish. I was thrown out into a freezing rainstorm with a revoked medical license, a battered suitcase, and exactly forty-two dollars to my name. Even the man I once loved looked at me with pity, believing I had stooped to grand larceny because I was jealous of my sister’s success. I stood at a bus stop, shivering and broken, wondering how my own blood could trade my truth for a corporate PR stunt. They had taken my career, my home, and my reputation, leaving me with nothing but the clothes on my back and a burning need for justice. Desperate to protect my grandmother, I sought out the one man they all feared: Avery Blackburn, the "monster" CEO rumored to be a brain-damaged vegetable. But the man I found in the shadows of the VIP wing wasn't a victim; he was a wolf waiting for the right moment to strike. "I need a shield, and you need a wife," he rasped, sliding a titanium card across the desk. I didn't hesitate to sign the marriage certificate. The Blanchards think they’ve discarded a liability, but they’re about to find out what happens when you give a desperate surgeon a billionaire’s scalpel.

Action Billionaire Modern

8.9

One mistake and Billionaire's Prisoner

8.9

He made one mistake-he chose revenge instead of mercy. Luna's sharp tongue and careless drunken words should have been harmless. Instead, they mark her as a target for Daimen Blackwell, a billionaire who doesn't forgive and never forgets. What begins as punishment turns into possession when he forces her into a contract that binds her to him as his mistress-his rules, his house, his bed. Luna is naïve in love but not in spirit, and her defiance slowly becomes the one thing Daimen can't control. Somewhere between power plays and stolen moments, he wins her heart-only to destroy it. When Daimen betrays her, Luna leaves with nothing but shattered trust. And that's when he discovers the truth: she is the woman he has been searching for all his life. This time, the billionaire has nothing left to bargain with. Only regret. Only groveling. And the hope that love might survive the damage he caused.

Billionaire Romance Werewolf

Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband

Chapter 7

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