Too Late For Regret: Watch Me Shine
Fiona stayed awake for three straight nights restoring an antique watch to surprise her fiancé, Kevon, for his birthday.
But standing outside his VIP club room, she froze when she heard his voice bleeding through the cracked door.
"Marriage to her is just a PR stunt. The Baxter family needs a clean, obedient poster girl for the board. That's it."
He openly mocked her to his friends, claiming she willingly handed over her jewelry design patents as the price of admission to marry into his wealthy family.
Worse, he confessed his true love for his personal assistant, Kayla.
He completely twisted the truth of a past mugging, painting his mistress as a hero and Fiona as a jealous coward. For three years, he had used Fiona's brilliance to build his company's new line, while secretly taking Kayla to hotels and parading her in Fiona's stolen designs.
Three months of bleeding fingers for his custom gift. Dozens of cancelled dinners. It was all a pathetic joke.
Her loyalty and her life's work were nothing but stepping stones for an arrogant heir who thought his money could buy her dignity.
The crushing grief in her chest instantly evaporated, replaced by a sheet of absolute ice.
She dropped the velvet gift box into an antique vase and kicked the heavy mahogany doors wide open.
It was time to strip his company of every single patent she secretly owned and burn his pathetic life to the ground.
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Chapter 2
The crash of the mahogany door against the wall echoed through the VIP suite, instantly drowning out the murmurs. Every head in the room snapped toward the entrance.
Fiona crossed the threshold, her face a picture of icy composure. The harsh spotlights from the suite's ceiling beat down on her, highlighting the sharp angles of her jaw and the absolute void of emotion in her eyes.
Kevon jumped in his leather seat. The crystal tumbler in his hand jerked, sending a splash of amber whiskey splashing onto the thigh of his tailored trousers. His eyes widened, a flicker of genuine panic crossing his features before he could mask it.
Beside him, Preston shifted awkwardly on the sofa. He cleared his throat, his body angling to block the small cake box on the table behind him-a box with "Kayla" written in elegant script on the ribbon.
Fiona ignored Preston's clumsy attempt at concealment. She walked straight toward the seating area, her heels striking the exposed wooden floor around the carpet with a sharp, rhythmic click. Click. Click. Click.
Kevon recovered quickly, his features rearranging into his usual expression of arrogant disdain. He straightened his tie-a nervous habit he thought made him look authoritative. "What the hell are you doing here? Don't you know how to knock?"
Fiona stopped two feet in front of him. She looked down at him, her gaze so devoid of warmth that it felt like a physical chill. She didn't answer his question.
"A presentable, obedient PR billboard," she repeated, her voice perfectly level, echoing his exact words back at him.
The temperature in the suite seemed to drop ten degrees. Lachlan and the other men exchanged uneasy glances, slowly setting their drinks down on the glass table, trying to make themselves as small as possible.
Kevon's face flushed a deep, mottled red. He scrambled to his feet, using his height to try and loom over her. "You were eavesdropping? Are you stalking me now?"
"It doesn't take a stalker to hear you when you're shouting your business to the whole room," Fiona said, her tone laced with a venomous calm. "You talk about me like I'm a burden, yet you've had no problem spending the money my designs brought in."
"You suffocate me!" Kevon roared, his pride stung by her lack of tears. "You're always hovering, always trying to control every aspect of my life. You drove me to this. If you weren't so cold, maybe I wouldn't need someone like Kayla to remind me what warmth is."
Fiona let out a short, harsh laugh. It was a sound completely devoid of humor. "That's a neat trick. You cheat, and somehow it's my fault because I'm too cold. You're pathetic."
Kevon's hands balled into fists at his sides. He was losing face in front of his friends, and that was the one thing he couldn't stand. He leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "You want to talk about being pathetic? Let's talk about that night in Brooklyn."
Fiona's expression didn't change, but a muscle in her jaw twitched.
"You ran," Kevon spat, his voice rising. "When that guy pulled a knife, you ran like a coward. Kayla stepped in front of you. She took that blade for you. And what did you do? You went crying to the family, trying to ruin her reputation out of pure jealousy."
The memory flashed behind Fiona's eyes-the dark alley, the glint of steel, Kayla's sudden smirk before the knife appeared. The cold, hard truth of that night was a stark contrast to the fairy tale Kevon had constructed.
"Kayla didn't step in front of me," Fiona said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "She led me into that blind spot. There were no cameras, Kevon. She set it up."
"Liar!" Kevon shouted, his face contorting with rage. He waved his arm dismissively. "I saw the scar on her arm! I saw her tears! You're just trying to smear her because you know you can't compete with a genuinely good person."
Preston stood up, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Guys, come on. It's your birthday, Kev. Let's not drag up ancient history. Have a drink."
Fiona turned her head slowly to look at Preston. The sheer force of her glare made him take an involuntary step backward, his hands dropping to his sides.
She looked back at Kevon. The anger was still there, but it was rapidly being replaced by a profound sense of exhaustion. Looking at him, at his blind, arrogant certainty, she realized that arguing with him was like trying to explain color to someone born blind. He didn't want the truth; he wanted his victim narrative.
Kevon misread her silence. A smug smile crept back onto his face. "Look, I get it. You're upset. But I'm willing to be the bigger person. Apologize to Kayla, and we can put this behind us. The wedding is still on."
He paused, letting the words sink in before delivering the final insult. "She can stay on as my personal assistant. You'll just have to learn to share the space. It's a generous offer."
Fiona's stomach roiled. The nausea was physical, a wave of revulsion that washed over her. She stared at him, this man she had almost married, and felt nothing but disgust.
She reached into her clutch and pulled out the heavy, metal black credit card she used for Baxter family expenses. She held it between her index and middle finger, her arm drawn back.
With a sharp, whipping motion, she flicked her wrist. The black card flew through the air, its solid metal edge catching the light before it struck Kevon square across the cheek.
A sharp crack echoed in the room, and a vivid red welt immediately bloomed on his skin. The card clattered to the floor, landing face-up on the expensive rug.
Kevon clutched his face, his eyes wide with shock. He stared at her as if she had suddenly grown a second head.
Fiona lifted her chin, looking down her nose at him with absolute authority. "The game is over, Kevon. I quit."
She didn't wait for a response. She pivoted on her heel, her posture rigid, and walked toward the door, leaving the silence of the room to swallow the sound of her departure.
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7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
7.4
I was a broke clinic doctor drowning in debt, so I took a confidential job to evaluate a billionaire heir's fertility.
I marched into the VIP ICU, pinned the struggling patient down, and injected a sedative. I finished the extraction and loudly declared to the family lawyer that the Holt heir was completely sterile.
But then, a chilling laugh echoed from the doorway.
The real heir, Jarrod Holt, the tyrant of Wall Street, stepped in. I had just sterilized his younger brother right in front of him.
Facing a decade in federal prison, I was completely at his mercy. To make things worse, my arrogant ex-boyfriend tried to publicly humiliate me, and my greedy uncle threatened to burn my dead mother's belongings for ransom. I was pushed to the absolute brink of ruin.
But instead of destroying me, Jarrod offered a terrifying lifeline. He bought out a Manhattan high-rise in five minutes just to ruin my ex, then handed me a marriage contract.
I was terrified and deeply confused. Why would this ruthless billionaire force a nobody into a fake marriage? He knew details about my past that no one should know. Did he discover my hidden identity as 'E', the underground surgeon the entire medical world was hunting for?
With my back against the wall, I signed the prenuptial agreement.
"I do," I whispered at City Hall.
He shoved his heavy, antique family ring onto my finger. It was supposed to be strictly business with absolutely no physical contact, but when his lips crashed violently onto mine, I knew I had just sold my soul to the devil.
8.4
Kathern was forced out of her sister's home by her abusive brother-in-law, who violently demanded she pay half the rent or get out.
To protect her sister from his rage, Kathern agreed to a six-month paper marriage with a stranger—an old woman's grandson, Bronson—in exchange for a simple apartment.
But her new husband treated her like a scheming gold digger from the very first second.
He showed up to City Hall in a cheap suit, shoved a brutal prenup in her face, and dumped her in a completely empty, dust-filled apartment.
"Just don't cause any trouble," he warned coldly, before leaving her alone.
When Kathern politely texted him to ask if he was coming home for dinner, he immediately blocked her number.
Kathern was furious and baffled. She didn't want a dime of his money, nor did she care about his boring middle-management job.
She had only agreed to this marriage for a place to sleep, yet this arrogant man treated her like absolute garbage.
Refusing to swallow the insult, Kathern immediately dialed his grandmother to expose his behavior.
She was going to build her own independent life, completely unaware that her "cheap corporate loser" of a husband was actually the ruthless billionaire CEO of the Vaughan empire.
9.3
"Adrian, why would you lie to me? Why would you let her push my mum like that?"
Yvonne's voice trembled, holding back tears.
Adrian smirked. "Wake up, Yvonne. You really thought I wanted you when Tricia was right here?"
That was how Adrian-her first crush, the boy she thought cared-chose to humiliate her in front of everyone as she was the cleaner's adopted daughter.
But fate had other plans.
Because the Diamond Belfort brothers-the heirs everyone adored were coming to their school in search of their missing heiress- baby sister. But the queen bee steals the chance that should have been hers. Then again, secrets don't stay buried forever. With her true identity waiting to explode, Yvonne must decide to rise from the ashes, claim her place, and bring down everyone who tried to destroy her.
Because the real heiress doesn't beg.
She takes rather.
Now, Yvonne is done playing small. It's her time to rise, reclaim her crown, and make everyone regret ever doubting her.
7.6
I was once the untouchable heiress to the Schroeder empire, until a corporate fraud conviction stripped away my life and threw me into federal prison for five brutal years.
On the day of my release, I stepped out into the freezing rain only to realize I had been utterly abandoned by everyone I loved.
My family sent no one. My former best friends blocked my number, and high-society women took photos of my shivering, pathetic state for laughs. To survive, I made a desperate deal to act as the fake fiancée of Kayden Washington, a ruthless, disgraced billionaire fighting his own blood. But the moment we joined forces, the nightmare escalated. Our safehouse was ransacked, we were hunted by tactical hitmen in the dark, and my adoptive brother stole my dead mother's diary just to bribe me into leaving New York forever. Worse, the digital trail of my framing traced back to a top-tier operative manipulating both our families from the shadows.
I didn't understand why my own family had sacrificed me like a worthless pawn to ignite a massive, invisible war. What dark secret was I actually taking the fall for?
Just as Kayden and I prepared to burn both empires to the ground, a mysterious courier dropped a package at my door. Inside rested the Schroeder Patriarch's solid gold ring—the ultimate symbol of absolute power—sent directly to me, the disgraced exile.
"They took your past, but I will give you the power to forge a new future."
The game hadn't just changed. The board had been flipped, and I was going back to take the throne.