Too Late For Regret: My Genius Wife
I was hemorrhaging on the cold linoleum of the emergency room, my jeans soaked in blood as I begged the nurse to call my husband. I needed Erik’s signature for an emergency surgery to save my life, but he wouldn't pick up.
When I finally reached his assistant, the truth hit me harder than the physical pain. Erik was in the same hospital, just a few floors up, giving strict orders not to be disturbed because his sister-in-law, Athena, was having a "difficult" delivery.
I signed my own consent form and woke up hollow, the pregnancy gone. Shaking and barely able to walk, I dragged myself to the VIP ward only to find Erik rocking Athena’s baby with a look of pure, paternal love—a look he had never given me.
"You’re just trying to pull focus because my brother’s heir was born," he sneered when I finally confronted him at home later that night.
"Stop the drama, Carie. Was it a migraine or just cramps this time?"
He didn't believe me when I told him I’d lost our child, and he certainly didn't believe me when I told him Athena had intentionally rammed my car two years ago to cause my first miscarriage. To him, I was just "low-stock" trash who couldn't provide an heir, while Athena was the fragile widow who needed his protection.
His mother stood there laughing, threatening to freeze my credit cards if I walked out the door, while Erik watched with cold indifference. They thought they had trapped a penniless orphan, but they forgot one thing: I was the one who designed the very empire they were standing on.
As I walked out into the blizzard, I didn't just leave a divorce petition on the floor; I triggered the code to short their family stock into the ground.
"I'm not just taking my name back, Erik," I whispered as the gates slammed shut.
"I'm taking everything."
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Chapter 2
The car slowly stopped outside the wrought iron gate of Flynn Manor.
Carie's lower abdomen aches and aches, dull and persistent, reminding her of the emptiness within.
"I'm home."
She said softly, and then got out of the car.
She didn't turn on the light in the foyer. She groped in the familiar darkness with her memory, her hand sliding up along the mahogany handrail.
In the master bedroom, she pulls her black Rimowa suitcase from the closet.
She didn't pack everything. She didn't want everything.
She threw in jeans, sweaters, underwear. Essentials.
She looked at the dresser. Erik gave her diamond earrings on their first anniversary. Sapphire necklace for Christmas.
She left them behind. They are all lies.
She grabbed her passport from the safe. She took the folder containing her birth certificate and some old documents she had been hiding.
The headlights swept across the bedroom ceiling. The roar of the Aston Martin engine cuts through the silence.
He is back.
She didn't stop packing. Just as the bedroom door slammed open, she zipped up her suitcase.
Eric stood there. He looked disheveled, with a loose tie and his hair disheveled by the wind.
But the first thing that hits the nose is the smell.
Beneath the smell of a winter storm, he smells of hospital disinfectant water and baby powder.
Bile rushed down her throat.
"What the hell are you doing?" Eric asked. He kicked the door shut. "Julian says you're in the hospital. I called the front desk and they said you were discharged from the hospital on your own against the doctor's orders. ”
Kelly straightened up. The room was slightly dizzy, but she locked her knees.
"I'm leaving, Eric."
He let out a piercing laugh of disbelief. He walked to the dresser and began to unbutton his shirt.
"Stop acting, Kelly. It's late. Athena had a bad night with the kids. She had a nervous breakdown. I have been dealing with the doctor and her for twelve hours. ”
"Athena," Kelly repeated. The name tastes like ashes.
"Yes, Athena. She needs support. She had no one around her. "He threw his shirt on the chair." Then I got a call from Julian saying that you were running around in the emergency room yelling at me? What is it this time? Migraine? Or dysmenorrhea? ”
He turned to face her, his eyes cold and full of accusations.
"You know, the timing is questionable. Even for you. Trying to steal the show on the day my brother's child was born? ”
"That's what you think?" Kelly asked. Her voice was dangerously calm.
"I think you're trying to renegotiate the prenuptial agreement," Eric scoffed. He took a step closer to her. "Do you think I'll sympathize with you if you pretend to be a medical emergency? I know you, Kelly. You can't wait to make money. ”
Her stomach churned. The physical disgust was so strong that she took a step back.
"Do you think I'm pretending to be sick?"
"Isn't it?" He reached out and ran his fingers over the sleeves of her coat. "Take off your coat, Kelly. You can't go anywhere. ”
His touch was like an electric shock. But not that good feeling. It was like touching a live wire.
She didn't think. Her body reacts before the brain processes instructions.
She waved her right hand.
Snap!
The sound was like a gunshot in a quiet room.
Her palm, with all the strength left in her, landed heavily on his cheek.
Eric's head slammed to the side.
He froze. The silence that followed was deafening.
Slowly, he turned to look at her. A bright red handprint was blooming on his cheek. His eyes widened, filled with shock and rising anger.
"You just ...... Hit me? He touched his face, as if to check for blood.
Her hands hurt hot. It throbs with the heartbeat.
"I've had enough," Kelly said. Her voice was smooth. "We're done. I want a divorce. ”
Eric stared at her for a second, and then he smiled. It was a cruel and cruel laugh.
"Divorce? You? He shook his head. Kelly, look at yourself. You have nothing. You are nothing without me. The prenuptial agreement is ironclad. You leave this house and you will leave with nothing. You will live on the streets. ”
"I don't care," Kelly said.
She grabbed the handle of the suitcase.
She walked towards him. He blocked her way, and his tall body blocked the doorway.
"Get out of the way," she said.
"How about otherwise?"
She slammed her shoulder into his chest. It was a pathetic attempt, but sheer audacity made him stumble back.
She pushed him away and walked over.
"If you walk out of that door," Eric growled behind her, his voice trembling with anger, "you don't want to come back when you have no money! ”
She didn't look back. She walked into the hallway, the wheels of her suitcase humming on the hardwood floor.
She walked to the top of the stairs.
Brandee Flynn was standing at the bottom of the stairs with her arms crossed, blocking her way.
"Get out of the way." Carie said softly.
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7.8
I was Grayson Warren’s "broken doll," a disgraced socialite kept on a short leash to pay off my family’s debts. To the world, I was a fragile liability; to Grayson, I was a pet he could humiliate for sport, forcing me to play the role of a mentally unstable girl while I secretly gathered evidence against his empire.
The cruelty peaked when Grayson forced me to break three years of sobriety in front of his investors, mocking my struggle before making me kneel on a golf course to scrub his shoes. He treated my life like a game, literally betting my sanity against a corporate board seat while he soft-launched a new relationship with a high-profile PR queen.
When the pressure triggered a massive panic attack, Grayson abandoned me in a private clinic just so he wouldn't miss a dinner reservation. Even my own mother turned against me, threatening to leak my psychiatric records and brand me a "violent delusional" if I didn't beg for Grayson’s forgiveness. I was trapped between a man who owned my debt and a mother who valued her estate over my daughter’s life.
I realized then that they would never let me go; they would only break me until there was nothing left. They thought they had erased my soul, but they forgot I was the only witness to the night my true love, Felix, was murdered. I was done being the victim.
I faked a suicide jump off the Queensboro Bridge to go off the grid, then crashed Grayson’s elite gala in a dress that signaled his downfall. Just as Grayson tried to physically crush me one last time, the room went silent. Felix Law, the man the world thought was dead for three years, walked out of the shadows with a federal warrant in his hand.
"Take your hands off her, Warren."
The game didn't just change; it ended. Felix was back from the dead, and this time, we were burning the empire to the ground together.
7.4
When I called my husband while trapped in a kidnapper's warehouse, he laughed. "Stop faking," he said, "my delicate mistress needs her sleep." He hung up. I signed the divorce papers drenched in my own blood, giving up everything just to escape the monster I married.
His mother threw a broken umbrella at me in the rain. I had nothing—no money, no identity, no hope.
But the moment I turned away, eight black Escalades encircled the street. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of a Rolls-Royce, shielding me with an umbrella. In his hand was a DNA test—and twenty-three years of relentless search.
"Your last name isn't Smith," he said, wiping blood from my wrist with his handkerchief. "It's Wilder. The Wilder family. And the man who left you to die?" He smiled, icy. "He owes us nine billion dollars."
7.2
Talia Morgan is a broke final-year medical student with one nightmare she cannot escape - her mother is dying, and the hospital bills are impossible to pay.
Just when all hope is lost, she receives an unbelievable offer: a one-year contract marriage to billionaire tech CEO Adrian Blackwood... in exchange for $50,000.
No love.
No intimacy.
No emotions.
Just rules and signatures.
Adrian needs a wife to secure his inheritance. Talia needs money to save her mother. The deal is simple.
Until it isn't.
Living under the same roof with a cold, dangerously attractive billionaire brings unexpected complications:
• His jealous ex refuses to disappear
• His family starts to love her
• And every touch, every glance, begins to feel less like a contract and more like a promise
When Talia discovers she may be carrying the one man she was never supposed to love, the contract threatens to destroy everything.
7.2
Ade had sacrificed the life she loved, the things she liked doing to please James. But it was never enough for him. Somehow, the one woman he just couldn't get, was the price, she was the gem.
And so once the opportunity presented itself, Ade became a past chapter of his life. A reject.
Betrayed and scorned, Ade is on a quest to reclaim her life back and face off adversaries.
But now what is she to do with the two men in front of her. One of them her ex James who can't seem to forget her and keeps stepping in her way, and the other, a billionaire who wants her at all costs.
7.9
I sat in a private hospital suite that cost more than a luxury car, watching the green line on my daughter's heart monitor struggle to climb.
Everything shattered when a hospital administrator accidentally dropped a folder, revealing a document with my husband's unmistakable signature. Darius Brandt had personally authorized the "reallocation" of our daughter's donor kidney to his mistress's son just to secure a multi-million dollar corporate merger.
When I confronted him, Darius didn't even blink, calling our daughter's life a "liquidated asset" before offering me a five-million-dollar settlement for my silence. In a blind rage, I set our penthouse on fire, choosing to burn with the proof of his betrayal rather than live another day as his puppet.
As the flames consumed the room, I couldn't understand how a father could put a price tag on his own child's life. How could he look at our dying daughter and see nothing but a resource to be traded for a European distribution network?
But the heat suddenly vanished, replaced by the scent of expensive perfume and the muffled sound of a string quartet.
I opened my eyes to find myself staring into a gold-framed mirror at the Brandt Charity Gala, exactly eight years in the past.
It was the night my nightmare first began, the night I was framed and forced into a marriage that would eventually kill my child.
"I see you, Darius," I whispered to my reflection as I applied a coat of blood-red lipstick.
"And this time, I'm not the prey."
9.3
"I want a divorce, Elodie, and you have just 30 days to respond to the petition. If not, it will be granted automatically." His words echoed like it's the easiest thing to say.
And just like that, Elodie's world shatters.
Five years later, she rebuilds her life but fate strikes again when her son is nearly killed in a tragic accident by Travis Milton, a billionaire CEO.
Haunted by what could've been, Travis covers the hospital bills and brings Elodie and her son into his home.
What begins as a gesture of responsibility slowly turns into something deeper, and passion ignites.
But the walls between them crumble, and long-buried secrets resurface, truths that could ruin everything.
Will Elodie risk her heart again for a man she barely knows? Or walk away to protect the only thing that matters...her son?