Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Savior

Charlotte looked down at the silver watch on her left wrist. The hands aligned perfectly at nine o'clock. The morning sun glaring off the Manhattan pavement was blinding, forcing her to squint. A cold knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. She pressed her thumbnail hard into the side of her index finger, a nervous habit she couldn't break. She pulled out her phone and dialed Bradly's number. The line rang. It was a long, hollow sound that made her bite her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. Finally, the call connected. "Hey, babe," Bradly's voice came through, distorted by static. "Traffic on the bridge is a nightmare. I'm going to be late." Charlotte's breathing stopped. Her chest felt tight. Before she could respond, a very faint, soft female voice murmured in the background of the call. The sound was barely a syllable, but it pierced Charlotte's eardrum like a physical needle. "Who is that?" Charlotte asked. Her voice was flat, devoid of the panic clawing at her throat. "What? No one," Bradly stammered. The sudden shift in his tone was obvious. "Just... someone walking past my car. Look, I'll be there soon." The lie was clumsy. It triggered every alarm bell in Charlotte's head. She pulled the phone away from her ear, keeping the call active, and opened the location-sharing app they had used for the past three years. The screen loaded. The blinking red dot representing Bradly's phone was not on the bridge. It was stationary, parked outside a coffee shop exactly two blocks away from City Hall. Charlotte hung up the phone without another word. She grabbed the heavy fabric of her white dress, lifting it above her ankles. Her heels clicked sharply against the concrete as she marched toward the location on the map. Her stomach churned with every step. She turned the corner of the street. A familiar black Range Rover came into view. It was parked next to the curb. The passenger side window was rolled halfway down. The sight of the car shattered the last fragile piece of hope in her chest. She slowed her pace. She stepped behind a green metal newsstand on the corner, using the magazine racks to hide her body. Her eyes locked onto the vehicle. Sitting in the passenger seat was Kira. Bradly's first love. Kira was leaning over the center console, her manicured fingers playfully twisting Bradly's silk tie. Bradly did not push her away. Instead, he leaned closer. His voice drifted through the open window, carrying over the hum of the city traffic. "Don't worry about it," Bradly said softly. "Charlotte is just a safe backup plan. You know you're the one I want." The words hit Charlotte's chest like a sledgehammer. The air left her lungs. The world tilted, a wave of dizziness washing over her. She dug her nails so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke. The sharp, stinging pain grounded her. It cleared the fog in her head. The crushing sadness in her eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, hard resolve. Charlotte stepped out from behind the newsstand. She did not hide. She walked directly toward the black Range Rover. The sharp clacking of her heels on the asphalt caught Bradly's attention. He turned his head lazily toward the sound. The moment his eyes registered Charlotte, his pupils dilated. All the color drained from his face, leaving him ashen. Kira followed his gaze. When she saw Charlotte, the corners of her mouth twitched upward into a mocking smirk. She deliberately shifted her weight, leaning her shoulder against Bradly's arm. Charlotte stopped right outside the driver's side door. She looked down at the panicked man inside the car. Her face was a mask of stone. There were no tears in her eyes. Her throat was dry, but her breathing was perfectly steady. Bradly scrambled to push the car door open. "Charlotte, wait, let me explain-" Charlotte raised her hand, palm out. The gesture sliced through the air and cut him off instantly. "A safe backup plan," Charlotte repeated. Her voice was terrifyingly calm, every syllable striking like a gavel. "That's what you just called me." Bradly reached his hand out through the window, trying to grab her wrist. Charlotte twisted her body, dodging his touch with pure disgust. She reached for her left hand. With one smooth motion, she slid the two-carat diamond engagement ring off her ring finger. She pinched the cold metal between her thumb and index finger. She flicked her wrist. The ring flew through the open gap of the window. It hit the plastic dashboard with a sharp crack, bounced off the air vent, and landed squarely in Kira's lap. Kira let out a startled shriek, brushing at her skirt as if a bug had landed on her. The inside of the car descended into chaotic fumbling. "We are done," Charlotte announced. She spoke loud enough for the pedestrians walking past to stop and stare. Bradly shrank back into his seat. The stares of the strangers burned his skin. His obsession with his public image paralyzed him. He cared more about the whispers of the crowd than the woman standing in front of him. He didn't even try to open the door again. Charlotte did not look at them for another second. She turned around. Her spine was perfectly straight. Her shoulders were pulled back. She walked to the edge of the curb and raised her arm. A yellow taxi screeched to a halt in front of her. She pulled the door open, slid into the back seat, and slammed it shut. The taxi accelerated into the traffic. Through the rear window, she saw Bradly gripping the steering wheel, slamming his fist against the horn in the middle of the Manhattan street.