Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Savior
Charlotte checked her location-sharing app when her fiancé Bradly claimed he was stuck in bridge traffic.
Instead, she found him parked two blocks away, letting his first love playfully twist his silk tie.
"Charlotte is just a safe backup plan."
Hearing him say those words shattered her completely, but throwing the ring in his face was only the beginning of her nightmare.
Her parents stormed into her apartment, furious that the broken engagement ruined their corporate funding, and tried to physically assault her.
When that failed, her family rushed to the hospice where her grandmother was dying.
They dragged the frail woman up by her armpits, forcing a pen into her trembling hand to steal her only apartment building.
When Charlotte threw herself over the bed to protect her, her own mother clawed her neck, and her father swung a metal IV pole at her head.
The sheer terror was too much, and her grandmother's heart monitor flatlined.
Charlotte wept on the floor, unable to understand how her own flesh and blood could trade her for investments and torture a dying woman out of pure greed.
But at the funeral, when her parents smugly handed her a lawsuit to seize the assets, Charlotte didn't shed a single tear.
"If you don't drop this suit by tomorrow, I will counter-sue you for malicious prosecution."
She pulled out a ten-year-old property deed with her own name on it, crushing their greedy dreams instantly.
Then, she put on her sharpest black suit and headed to her ex-fiancé's company to completely dismantle his family's empire.
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Chapter 9
Vernon kicked the metal trash can in the living room. It crashed against the wall, spilling garbage across the cheap carpet.
He held the court dismissal notice in his hand, tearing it into tiny pieces and throwing them onto the floor.
"She beat us!" Vernon roared. "She had the deed the whole time!"
Brenda sat on the worn-out sofa, burying her face in her hands. "The credit card bills are due next week. Ricky's private school tuition is late. What are we going to do?"
Sitting at the vanity mirror in the corner of the room was Harper, Charlotte's younger sister.
Harper was carefully applying a coat of bright red lipstick. She looked at her parents through the reflection in the mirror and rolled her eyes.
"You two are idiots," Harper said smoothly. She turned around in her chair. "You went after the wrong target. Charlotte is a dead end."
Vernon glared at her. "What's your brilliant plan, then?"
Harper smiled, a cunning glint in her eyes. "Charlotte lost her fiancé. Bradly Medina left her at the altar. The Medina family is rich. They owe us for the public humiliation. We sue them for emotional distress, or... we ask for a settlement to keep it quiet."
Vernon's eyes lit up. The greed returned to his face instantly.
"I'll go talk to Bradly," Harper volunteered, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "But I need to look the part. I need cash for a new dress and a blowout."
Vernon didn't hesitate. He pulled out his wallet and handed her three hundred-dollar bills.
Harper snatched the money. She turned back to the mirror, a wicked smile spreading across her lips. She wasn't going to ask Bradly for money. She was going to take Charlotte's place in his bed.
Across town, in the Brooklyn apartment, Charlotte was packing.
She folded Eleanor's knitted blankets and placed them carefully into a cardboard box. She picked up a silver picture frame from the nightstand. It held a photo of Eleanor smiling in a garden.
Charlotte traced the edge of the frame with her thumb. Her tears had dried up. Her eyes were clear and focused.
Her phone buzzed on the bed. It was a text from Jorja.
What's the plan, boss?
Charlotte typed back immediately: I'm listing this apartment for rent. I'm moving to Manhattan to find a new job.
Jorja sent a thumbs-up emoji. Don't forget you still have to go to Medina Group tomorrow. You emailed your boss, but HR needs you to sign the formal exit papers in person and clear out your personal locker.
Charlotte stared at the screen. Medina Group. Bradly's territory.
She locked her phone. She walked over to her closet and pushed aside her casual clothes. She pulled out a sharp, tailored black blazer and a matching pencil skirt. She hung them on the door.
The next morning, the sun was bright.
Charlotte stood in front of her bathroom mirror. She applied a coat of dark, aggressive red lipstick. It felt like war paint.
She slipped into the black suit and stepped into a pair of black stiletto heels. She looked at her reflection. She didn't look like a heartbroken victim. She looked like a weapon.
She took the subway to the Financial District.
She stood outside the towering glass skyscraper of the Medina Group. She took a deep breath, pushed through the revolving doors, and walked straight to the elevators.
When she stepped onto the HR floor, whispers erupted in the cubicles. Employees stared at her, expecting to see a crying mess.
Charlotte ignored them. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor.
She walked into the HR manager's office, dropped her badge on the desk, and slid the exit paperwork forward.
The manager looked at her nervously, stamped the papers quickly, and handed her the carbon copy.
Charlotte put the paper in her leather tote bag. She felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders. She was finally free.
She walked back to the elevator bank and pressed the down button.
She waited, staring at the metal doors.
A soft ding echoed through the lobby. The elevator doors slid open.
Charlotte stepped forward, but her feet instantly froze.
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7.2
In the roaring flames of the abandoned warehouse, my skin blistered and peeled.
Through the crackling fire, my sister Elara's malicious voice echoed. She told me my husband, Damien, was dead, and it was all my fault.
For years, I had treated Damien like a monster. I fought him, threw tantrums, and desperately tried to escape our marriage, all because I blindly followed Elara's advice.
"Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get."
She texted me things like that, telling me to smash vases over his head and run away, claiming she was protecting me.
In reality, she was poisoning my mind, stealing my valedictorian spot at university, and plotting to crawl into my billionaire husband's bed.
My foolish rebellion cost me everything, ultimately leading to Damien's tragic death and my own fiery end.
As the massive explosion tore my consciousness to shreds, I finally understood who truly loved me and who the real monster was.
I died suffocating on my own agonizing regret, wishing I could tear Elara apart.
Then, a rush of freezing air punched into my lungs.
I opened my eyes to the crisp scent of cedar and mint. I was back seven years ago, on the very night our marriage was supposed to go to hell.
This time, looking at Damien's flawless, unscarred face, I didn't push him away.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and made a silent vow: I would make every single person who ever hurt him bleed.
7.5
Five years of a fake marriage to a billionaire.
Christi thought she was a wealthy wife-until City Hall told her the truth.
No marriage license. No legal rights. Nothing but a lie.
Her husband cheated on her for four years.
His entire family mocked her, used her, and planned to trap her with a baby.
She was ready to ruin them all.
Then a secret changed everything:
Her late parents were DARPA elites. She is the sole heir to $50 billion.
There's only one catch-marry Cornelius Gregory, Wall Street's ruthless paralyzed tycoon.
She signs the contract in an instant.
Freeze their accounts. Destroy the Rivera family.
The game is over for them.
And the queen has just arrived.
9.6
Haylie waited nervously at the Wall Street charity gala for her boyfriend Bryan, but a spiked drink hit her hard, leaving her stumbling into a VIP lounge.
There, Chester Steele, the ruthless CEO of Steele Industrial, found her—drugged and vulnerable. What started as a frantic claiming in the shadows ended with him whispering she was his.
But moments later, a security alert shattered everything: data breach traced to Haylie's terminal. Chester's fury exploded. He saw her brush past a Logan Group rival on footage and dumped her in the rain, firing her as a corporate spy.
Bryan answered her desperate call with ice: "It's over." Reporters swarmed her door, branding her a traitor. Arrested at the office by FBI agents, she watched smug coworker Erin wave goodbye.
Thrown in a cell, chained and grilled with fake evidence—offshore accounts in her name—Haylie learned the worst: charges now included her sick father, Ernest, framed for laundering the leak money. Plead guilty or he dies in prison.
Innocent and raging, she couldn't fathom who planted it all—the gala bump, the logs, the forgeries. Why her? Who hated her enough to destroy her life?
Chester burst in, posting unlimited bail but forcing her signature on a slave contract: live in his penthouse, serve him 24/7. As she collapsed in his arms, trapped in his gilded cage, Haylie vowed silently—she'd uncover the real traitor and make them pay.
8.8
Alaia Dudley spent her life playing the devoted partner, completely unaware that her fiancé Austen was sleeping with another woman.
She thought the worst he could do was break her heart, until she found herself pinned to a cold operating table.
Austen held her down with a cruel smirk while a scalpel sliced through her sternum.
They cracked her chest open while she was still fully conscious.
The agonizing pain of her heart being cut out burned into her nerve endings.
She realized then that to him, she was never a lover—just a spare organ, a boring piece of wood to be discarded the second his true love needed it.
She died in excruciating agony, choking on her own blood while the man she loved walked away with her heart.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand why she had to suffer so brutally.
Why did she waste her life begging for a monster's attention? Why did they get a happy ending while she was carved up like an animal?
But then, ice-cold water flooded her lungs, and Alaia violently broke the surface of her bathwater.
Her trembling fingers touched her smooth, flawless chest. No scars. Her heart was still beating.
The date on her phone glared back at her: it was exactly five years ago.
Tonight was the exact night Austen first took his mistress to a hotel room.
This time, she wouldn't just expose them. She would use Wall Street's most terrifying tyrant as her personal weapon to strip them of everything they had.
8.0
After years of a freezing, loveless marriage, my billionaire husband Israel finally threw me out to make room for his new lover, Ayla.
Before I even packed my bags, he ordered a crew to shred the Dogwood tree in our backyard and pour thick concrete into the crater, claiming it was a symbol of my infidelity.
He didn't know that buried beneath those roots was the urn containing the ashes of our unborn baby.
Stripped of everything, I tried to rebuild my shattered life by securing a supporting role in an indie film.
But Israel bought the entire production studio just to cast Ayla as the lead, demanding I act as her pathetic stepping stone.
When I refused, he cornered me on set with a sickening audio recording.
"We want one million dollars. This will ruin Karen forever."
It was my own parents. They had forged my medical records, planning to sell a story to the tabloids that I was a violent, delusional schizophrenic.
Israel smiled coldly, threatening to lock me in a padded room on an involuntary psychiatric hold unless I signed an unpaid contract to serve Ayla unconditionally.
My own flesh and blood had sold me out to a ruthless monster for cash.
Staring at the extortion contract, the last shred of desperation and love in my chest burned away into cold, gray ash.
To survive a monster, you have to become one.
I picked up his pen, violently signed my name, and prepared to rip his precious Ayla to shreds on camera.
9.5
After her step sister ran away from her marriage to the billion dollar heir, they took Emerald Jane Campbell as a stand-in to fill in the position of her step sister. Forced by her evil mother, Emerald can't do anything but to follow. She was tied to the disabled billion dollar heir for three years and all she got was cold treatment from him. Years later, a kidnapper appears in their lives. The kidnapper threatens the life of Emerald until Jude Rafael Sanders- the billion-dollar decides to do what it takes to protect his wife, Emerald.
Secrets began to unravel one by one. But what if Jude finds out his beloved wife has something up beneath her sleeves? Find out how tension intensifies in their roller coaster marriage.