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 4
A blizzard bursts into the grand foyer, wrapping around her ankles and freezing the sweat from Carie's skin.
She stood at the door and looked back at them indifferently.
"If you walk out that door," screamed Brandi, supported by a maid, "I'll have the lawyer freeze all your credit cards before you get in the car!" ”
Carie slowly turned around.
She held the doorknob so hard that her fingers hurt.
Eric wiped the whiskey from his eyes and blinked quickly.
His face was red and swollen, and his eyes were full of anger and unwillingness.
"You're a madman," he spat out. "Completely out of control."
"Really?" Carie asked. Her voice was unusually calm in the howling wind. "Or am I the only one who can see the essence of this family?"
She looked at Brandi. "Do you think I can't have children because of my genes? Because I'm 'out of stock'? ”
"Look at you," Brandi sneered. "Desolate. It didn't work. ”
"I got pregnant two years ago," Carie said. The phrase hung heavy and sharp in the air.
"We know about miscarriages," Eric snapped, stepping forward. "It was an accident. The road surface is icy. Don't live in the past. ”
"It's not an accident," Carie said, her eyes locking on him. "Athena drove behind me."
Eric froze. "What?"
"She stopped at the intersection," Carie raised her voice. She waited. I saw her in the rearview mirror. She waited until I was in the middle of the corner and then picked up. She bumped into me, Eric. She pushed me against the guardrail. ”
"That's a lie!" Eric roared. "Athena has PTSD! She can hardly get in the car, let alone drive hard! She was in shock! ”
"She's a murderer," Carie said. "She killed your first child. She's been laughing at you ever since. ”
"You're such a vicious and jealous woman," Brandi growled in a low voice. "Slander a grieving widow. You should be ashamed. ”
"I saw her eyes," Carie whispered, more to herself. She didn't look shocked. She looked satisfied. ”
"Get out," Eric said. His voice was low, trembling with anger. "Get out of my house, or I'll kick you out."
He believed her. Of course it will. Athena, the fragile bird with broken wings. Carie is just a vulture circling a corpse.
"Would be happy to," Carie said.
She reached for her neck.
Diamond necklace. The Flynn family heirloom. A collar.
She hooked her fingers under the platinum chain. No clasps. It's a constant cycle.
She pulled suddenly.
Metal pierces her skin. She felt a sharp pain as the chain slashed into the back of her neck.
Snap.
The chain is broken. Warm blood runs down the neck and mixes with cold sweat.
She clenched the sparkling diamonds for a moment, feeling their sharp edges.
Then she threw it.
The thing hit Eric in the chest and fell at his feet with a snap.
"Keep the money," Carie said. "I want to take my name back."
Eric looked down at the diamond, then at the blood on her neck. His expression faltered for a moment. A hint of regret? Care?
But then Brandi moans, covering his heart, and he turns to her.
"Are you okay?"
Carie ignored them anymore. She backed away and walked into the snow.
Then like a lion, he slammed the door shut.
Bang!
The voice echoed like a tombstone seal.
She was alone.
The wind tore her clothes. The snow made her unable to open her eyes. She dragged her suitcase along the long winding lane. Within seconds, her hands were numb.
She arrived at the main road. There are no streetlights here, just the endless darkness of the Hampton winter.
She pulled out her phone. Her fingers were stiff and bluish.
She called Katie's number.
"Carie?" Katie's voice was loud, with panic. "Where are you? I've been fighting for an hour! ”
"I was completely relieved," Carie said. Her teeth trembled so much that she could barely speak. "I'll come over right away."
"I'm still sending you off, I'm waiting for you."
Carie hung up.
She stood under the lonely street lamp at the end of the road, watching the snowflakes fall. It obscures her tracks, erases the path to the house.
She took a deep breath. The air is cold, but it tastes like freedom.
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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?