Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Savior

The pounding on the door was so violent that the empty liquor bottle on the coffee table rattled.

Charlotte's face hardened. Her jaw clenched tight. She set her glass down and marched toward the entryway.

Jorja grabbed her arm, shaking her head. "Don't open it, Char."

Charlotte shook her head. "I can't hide in here forever."

She reached out and gripped the cold metal doorknob. She turned it and pulled.

Before the door was fully open, a heavy force shoved it inward. The impact pushed Charlotte backward, her heels skidding against the floorboards.

Her father, Vernon, stormed into the living room. His face was red, his chest heaving.

Her mother, Brenda, followed right behind him. The moment she crossed the threshold, she pointed a manicured finger directly at Charlotte's face.

"What is wrong with you?" Brenda shrieked. Spittle flew from her lips. "Bradly just called off the wedding! He pulled the Medina investment out of your father's company! Why did you ruin this?"

Charlotte let out a cold, sharp laugh. "I am not a piece of inventory you can trade for corporate funding."

The words hit Vernon like a physical blow. His face turned purple.

He lunged forward, raising his thick hand high in the air, aiming a vicious slap at Charlotte's cheek.

Jorja moved instantly. She grabbed the back of Charlotte's shirt and yanked her backward.

Vernon's hand sliced through empty air. The momentum threw him off balance, and he stumbled forward, his knee hitting the edge of the coffee table.

Humiliated and enraged, Vernon grabbed the heavy glass ashtray sitting on the table. He raised it above his head, ready to throw it at Charlotte.

Jorja stepped in front of Charlotte, her boots planted firmly. "Throw that and I'll have you arrested for assault!"

Brenda shrieked and lunged at Jorja. She grabbed a handful of Jorja's hair and yanked hard, trying to drag her out of the way.

Seeing her best friend attacked, a surge of pure adrenaline flooded Charlotte's veins.

She stepped around Jorja, grabbed Brenda's wrist with both hands, and twisted it sharply downward.

Brenda screamed in pain and let go of Jorja's hair. Charlotte shoved her mother backward. Brenda stumbled and crashed into Vernon's chest.

Charlotte backed away, putting distance between them. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone.

She dialed 911 and hit the speaker button. She held the phone up high.

"911, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher's calm voice echoed through the chaotic living room.

The room went dead silent.

Vernon froze. His arm, still holding the ashtray, hovered in the air. The rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, cowardly panic.

"I need police at my apartment," Charlotte said, her voice devoid of any emotion. She recited her address clearly. "I have two trespassers who broke in and are attempting physical assault."

"Understood, ma'am. Units are five minutes away," the dispatcher replied.

Charlotte tapped the red button and ended the call.

She stared at the two people who had given her life. Her eyes were like ice. "Get out. If you ever come near me again, I will press charges. We are done."

Brenda's eyes widened in disbelief. "You ungrateful little bitch! We raised you!"

Charlotte walked over to the front door and pulled it wide open. She pointed a rigid finger toward the hallway. "Out."

Vernon knew the police in this neighborhood did not mess around. He weighed his options, his jaw working furiously.

He threw the glass ashtray onto the rug with a muffled thud.

He pointed a thick finger at Charlotte. "You are going to regret this. I will make sure you have nothing."

He grabbed Brenda's arm and dragged her out into the hallway.

The heavy thud of their footsteps faded down the corridor.

Charlotte pushed the door shut. The moment the latch clicked, her knees buckled. She slid down the wooden door, her back scraping against the paint, until she hit the floor.

Jorja dropped to her knees beside her. She pulled Charlotte into a tight hug, checking her arms and face. "Are you hurt? Did they hit you?"

Charlotte shook her head slowly. "I'm fine. It's just... pathetic."

Before she could catch her breath, her phone lit up on the floor.

The caller ID read: St. Jude Hospice Care.

Charlotte's heart stopped. She snatched the phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Charlotte Guthrie?" a nurse's frantic voice came through the speaker. "You need to come right now. Eleanor's vitals just crashed. We are issuing a critical condition alert."

Charlotte shot up from the floor. The blood drained completely from her face.

She grabbed her coat off the back of the sofa and bolted out the door. Outside the window, the sky had suddenly darkened to an unnatural, bruised purple. A jagged flash of lightning tore across the horizon, followed instantly by a deafening crack of thunder, signaling the arrival of a violent storm.