Too Late For The Billionaire's Regret

Chapter 4

Word Count: 740 | Released on: 04/06/2026

leam of Manhattan for the gray, somber landscape of upstate New York. It pulled into the visito

ked asphalt. She walked to the guard post, a sma

he slot to the officer on duty, a man with a b

flicker of something-recognition, or perhaps instruct

c. "Ira Burton's parole was revoked. Order came down f

le. The parole board approved it last

e glass, lowering his voice. "Lady, in this state, the Sincla

cla

nging at her side, clenched into a fist so ti

s was his opening move-a cruel, calculated

hest down to a cold, hard ember. She turned to walk back t

shadow of the guard post, the world

s, had materialized on the access road. Doors slid open, and a swarm of

he gray afternoon into a c

n hiding overseas after embezzling

about the allegations of fraud

ers blocking the worst of the onslaught. But the reporters were relentless, shoving

passive mask. She moved toward the Rover, a slo

dying oak tree, sat a custom black Maybach, i

ow lowered by

en his fingers, the smoke coiling in the dim interior. His eyes, predatory and dark w

mile touched his lips. This was just the beginning. He wanted to

his driver, his voice a low

orter with a sweaty face, Mitch Tucker,

e a mess after the bankruptcy! Living on the streets! Is

sto

Tucker's face, and for a moment, the temperatu

back. "Stay back," he war

ow completely surrounded the Range Rover, making

panther in the shadows, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The mom

Chapter End

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Too Late For The Billionaire's Regret

SHANA GRAY Modern

“I was happily preparing to tell Harlan, my lover of five years, that I was pregnant with our child. But when I pushed open his study door, I heard him ordering the ruthless liquidation of my father's company. He wasn't just my family's head of security; he was Harlan Sinclair, a Wall Street predator. He threw a hostile takeover agreement at my feet and sneered that the baby in my belly was a bastard. "Take the money, get rid of that child, and get out of my sight forever." My best friend Kali had forged a DNA report and drugged me to steal him, and he believed every word. Stumbling out into the pouring rain, I was violently struck by a speeding truck. As my blood pooled on the wet asphalt and my baby's life slipped away, Kali stepped out of a luxury SUV just to smile at my agony. Later, in a grim underground clinic, a fake nurse raised a lethal syringe to finish the job. I didn't understand how five years of deep love could be shattered by a single cheap lie. I understood even less how the man who once swore to protect me could so coldly condemn our unborn child to death. Rescued by my father's loyal guards at the last possible second, I vanished into the shadows. Four years later, I stepped off a private jet in New York. The naive, broken Cora was dead; I had returned to make them all crawl.”