The Billionaire Regret

‎‎Chapter One

‎‎The lights burned too bright. The music was too loud. The laughter stung like knives. And there I was, on my knees in front of my husband, begging him not to humiliate me.

‎‎"Daniel, please," I whispered, clutching his wrist, my nails biting into his skin as though I could anchor him to me. "Not here. Not like this."

‎‎His lips curled, not in pity but in that cruel smirk I had seen too many times behind closed doors. Tonight, he wanted the world to see it. He wanted them to watch me break.

‎‎Around us, the glittering hall fell silent. I could hear the faint clink of a champagne glass being set down, the faint shuffle of expensive heels against marble. People were staring. They loved it. They lived for it. Ava Reynolds, wife of Daniel Cobbs, the billionaire everyone called untouchable, was on her knees, pleading like a beggar at a royal court.

‎‎Daniel leaned down, close enough for only me to hear, though I knew he wanted me to repeat it aloud. "You should have thought about dignity before marrying me."

‎‎My chest tightened. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

‎‎Then he yanked his arm free and stepped into the spotlight. The lights hit him, catching the sharp angles of his face. A perfect king in his throne room. And then, with deliberate cruelty, he reached for her.

‎‎Elizabeth Sterl.

‎‎Her gown glittered in silver sequins that clung to her curves. Her smile was soft, innocent to the untrained eye, but to me it was a knife sliding between my ribs. Daniel pulled her forward by the hand. Gasps rippled through the crowd like fire catching dry leaves.

‎‎"What is he doing?"

‎‎"Isn't that Elizabeth Sterl? The model?"

‎‎"They say he's been seen with her..."

‎‎"Oh my God, Ava is right there."

‎‎Every whisper was a dagger. My ears rang as Daniel raised Elizabeth's hand to his lips and kissed it slowly, savoring the sight of me watching. My knees pressed harder against the marble floor, the pain sharp, humiliating, real. He wanted me to hurt. He wanted them to see.

‎‎Then he said the words that shattered everything.

‎‎"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice carried effortlessly across the hall, smooth and steady like he had rehearsed it. "I think it's time to end this charade. I am divorcing Ava Reynolds. Effective immediately."

‎‎The world tilted.

‎‎For a heartbeat, silence. No music, no laughter, no polite coughs. Just a stunned, breathless pause before the room erupted.

‎‎"Divorcing her? Here? Tonight?"

‎‎"Is he insane?"

‎‎"Or maybe she deserves it. You know how these society marriages go."

‎‎"She begged him on her knees. Pathetic."

‎‎"She has no pride left."

‎‎Laughter bubbled, harsh and cruel, mixed with gasps and shrieks. Phones were raised instantly, flashes going off like fireworks. Some recorded me, my humiliation framed forever, while others zoomed in on Daniel's proud stance and Elizabeth's sly little smile.

‎‎"Did you get that? Oh my God, it's going viral already."

‎‎"He dumped her in front of everyone. Savage."

‎‎Elizabeth leaned closer to him, loud enough for me to hear. "You did the right thing." She tilted her head toward me, her eyes glinting. "She never really belonged here."

‎‎I forced my body to move, but it felt like my bones were weighed down with stone. My palms pressed into the floor as I tried to stand. I couldn't. My legs shook too much. People muttered, some sneering, some pitying.

‎‎"Look at her. Can't even get up."

‎‎"She should just walk out with her head high. But no, she clings."

‎‎"Embarrassing."

‎‎Daniel glanced at me once, cold eyes like steel. "You should have known better than to think you could stand at my side."

‎The words sliced deeper than any knife.

‎My throat closed. I wanted to scream, to tell them all the truth, that I had loved him, that I had fought for him, that I had given up everything to stand by him. But nothing came out. Just a strangled breath. My chest heaved, my heart pounded, my vision blurred. The chandeliers above swayed like they were about to fall on me.

‎Whispers kept coming, sharper, faster, twisting tighter around my neck like a noose.

‎"He never loved her."

‎"She was just a stepping stone."

‎"She was always too plain for him."

‎"Elizabeth is a better match anyway."

‎"He destroyed her in front of everyone. Cold."

‎More laughter erupted, louder this time. Some were recording not him, but me, zooming in on my swollen eyes, my trembling hands, my ruined dignity.

‎"She's trending already," someone chuckled.

‎"Headline tomorrow: Billionaire ditches wife for stunning model."

‎"She won't survive this. Not socially. Not financially."

‎My stomach churned. I wanted to vomit, to collapse, to disappear. I thought of every dinner we had attended together, every time I had sat beside him smiling like a perfect wife while he whispered promises in my ear. I thought of how I had defended him when the rumors started, how I had told myself he was too busy to be unfaithful.

‎And here he was, proving me wrong in front of the entire city.

‎Somewhere, a woman laughed. A loud, cruel laugh that cracked against the silence of my breaking.

‎I tried again to stand. My knees buckled. My palms slipped against the polished floor. The crowd gasped, not in sympathy but in hunger, as though my misery fed them.

‎"Poor Ava. She's nothing without him."

‎"Maybe she should crawl out. That would suit her."

‎"Someone should drag her away, she's ruining the party."

‎Daniel didn't flinch. He stood tall with Elizabeth on his arm, basking in the spectacle he had created. My shame was his entertainment.

‎My breath came in shallow bursts. The edges of my vision darkened. My body swayed. I could feel the cold marble against my palms, slick with the sweat of my shame. My knees gave out completely. The room spun, faces blurring into grotesque masks of amusement.

‎I thought I heard someone gasp my name, but maybe it was just my mind reaching for hope that no longer existed.

‎Daniel's voice was the last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me.

‎"Take her out of here. She doesn't belong."

‎The crowd erupted again. Some cheered his boldness, others whispered in horror. But none of it mattered. My world went black.

‎

Chapter Two

The world returned in fragments.

First, the sterile scent of disinfectant.

Then, the sharp sting of a light too bright against my eyelids.

Voices floated above me, muffled and distorted, as though I were trapped beneath water.

"She's stable," a man said softly. I caught the faint rustle of papers. "Weak... most likely stress-induced collapse. Her vitals are erratic, but she'll recover with rest."

Stress. That word again. Always stress. Always my fault. Never anything more.

I forced my eyes open. The ceiling glared down at me, plain, sterile, and endless. The rhythmic beeping of a monitor pulsed beside me, steady but unnerving.

I turned my head slowly, the movement heavy, and found the doctor standing near the bed with a clipboard. His face carried the practiced calm of a man who had seen too many people break.

"Mrs. Cobbs," he said gently. "You need to avoid strain. Whatever situation you're under, your body is telling you it cannot handle more. You must rest, or..."

"I'll break," I whispered, finishing for him.

His eyes softened. "Exactly. I'll prescribe something to calm your nerves, to help with the dizziness. But please, do not ignore your limits. Your body will only forgive so much."

He did not know. None of them ever knew.

How could they? How could a stranger understand the weight of a husband's betrayal announced before the world, the sharp burn of gossip still echoing through glittering halls, the way Elizabeth Sterl's smile felt like a knife twisting between my ribs?

What medicine could fix a humiliation filmed and shared across every screen in the city?

Before I could gather my thoughts, the door creaked open. The sound was small, but it cut through me. My body stiffened instinctively.

Daniel.

He filled the doorway, tall and sharp in a tailored suit that whispered money and power. His expression was unreadable, sculpted into a mask of indifference. To the world, he looked like a man who owned it all.

To me, he was the man who had ripped the ground out from under me with a single public declaration.

And trailing behind him, her heels clicking with maddening precision, was Elizabeth. Of course.

The doctor cleared his throat, as though my husband's presence carried weight even in a room meant for healing.

"Mr. Cobbs, your wife..."

"She's fine," Daniel cut in smoothly. His tone was cool and dismissive. "She always is."

My lips trembled. My throat formed his name before my mind could stop it.

"Daniel..."

He stepped closer, his shadow falling across me like a curtain. The doctor, clearly uncomfortable, placed a small bottle of pills on the side table and murmured something about dosage.

He excused himself quickly, shutting the door behind him. The silence that followed was far heavier.

Daniel's hand shot out. He snatched the bottle from the table, weighed it in his palm for a heartbeat, then hurled it onto the bed. The plastic burst open. Pills scattered across the sheets and clattered onto the floor, rolling in every direction.

"Pathetic," he hissed. His voice was low, dangerous. "Collapsing like some fragile doll, making me look like the villain. Was that your plan, Ava? To fake weakness in front of everyone, to claw at sympathy from people who matter more than you ever could?"

The words sliced into me, cruel and precise.

"I didn't..." My voice cracked against my will. "I didn't fake anything. I..." The tears burned hot as I swallowed them back. "I could not breathe, Daniel. My chest..."

"Save it," he cut in sharply. "I know you. You live for attention. Always playing the victim. Always trying to turn the story in your favor. Did you think this stunt would change my mind? Did you think anyone looked at you and felt pity?"

His eyes were steel. Unforgiving. He wanted to believe I was acting, because the truth, that I was breaking, would not suit his pride.

Then came the sound I dreaded most.

Laughter.

Soft. Feminine. Cruel.

Elizabeth.

She leaned lazily against the wall, her arms folded, her eyes glinting like glass.

"She is very convincing, Daniel," she said sweetly, her tone dripping with venom. "If I did not know any better, I might almost believe her."

Her lips curved as if mocking my pain was a private joke meant only for them.

Daniel's jaw twitched, and for the briefest second, satisfaction flickered across his face. He didn't look at me like his wife. He looked at me like a nuisance, a liability, an obstacle already being removed.

My fingers curled into the sheets until my nails bit into my palms. I felt something crack inside me, but alongside that fracture, something else began to stir.

A burn. A spark.

Elizabeth's voice floated again, cutting into me like glass.

"She will not last much longer. Look at her. She can barely sit up. Do you really want the world to think you are still tied to this?"

She gestured toward me as though I were less than human, as though I were some broken object she would have tossed in the trash.

Daniel's eyes followed her gesture, and for a breath, I thought I saw contempt so sharp it could kill.

"I made a mistake," he muttered, not even to me. To himself. To her. "I should have ended this sooner."

Elizabeth smirked. "Then end it completely."

My chest tightened, but my body refused to break further. I would not give them that.

I pressed my hands against the mattress, forcing myself upright despite the dizziness that screamed at me. My vision swayed, but I held on.

Daniel's gaze snapped to me, a flicker of surprise crossing his cold face.

"I am not weak," I whispered. My voice trembled, but the words were iron. "And I am not done."

Elizabeth's laugh rang out again, louder this time, sharp as glass breaking.

"Listen to her. Trying to sound strong when she can barely sit."

Daniel's lips curved, not with amusement but with something darker.

He stepped closer until the bed creaked under his weight. His hand came down suddenly, gripping my jaw so tight I thought he might shatter it. His breath brushed my ear, low and venomous.

"You belong on the floor, Ava. That is where I put you, and that is where you will stay."

The pressure of his grip sent fire down my neck. My vision blurred with tears, but inside, something hardened.

If they wanted me destroyed, they would have to try harder. Much harder.

Because I would not die on this bed.

And I would not die as Daniel Cobbs' discarded wife.

Chapter 3

The ride home was silent, except for the occasional hum of tires against the asphalt and Elizabeth's laughter, soft and threaded with familiarity. She leaned into Daniel as though the seat beside me were empty, as though I were nothing more than a shadow carried along for the ride. Her perfume drifted back, cloying, filling the narrow space until it settled into my lungs.

I pressed myself against the leather, staring out the window. The city lights streaked by in fractured blurs, each one a reminder of a world that kept moving even as mine stood still. My fingers curled into my dress until the fabric wrinkled beneath my grip. Every laugh from the front seat cracked through me like a whip, but Daniel never once glanced back.

By the time the gates of the mansion swung open, dread pooled so heavy in my stomach that it felt like stone. The servants waited in two neat lines as we entered, their faces lowered in practiced politeness, yet their whispers ran quick and sharp through the air, impossible to miss.

"She looks worse," one maid murmured, voice shaking with a mixture of pity and thrill.

"Worse? She collapsed in front of everyone. Right there on the marble floor."

"I heard Mr. Cobbs told the whole crowd he was divorcing her."

"Divorcing her? In public?"

"Yes. He called her a burden. Said he couldn't carry dead weight."

A sharp intake of breath, a hiss of warning, but the damage was done. The words lingered like smoke, impossible to clear. And then the butler's voice, low and weary, cutting deeper than the rest:

"The house isn't blind. Everyone can see it. The mistress is fading. The master doesn't look at her anymore. His attention... belongs elsewhere."

Each word burrowed into me like glass. My back straightened on instinct, my chin lifted higher, and I walked past them with the grace drilled into me long ago. I would not let them see me bend. Not here. Not yet.

Inside the bedroom, Daniel pressed a small bottle into my palm. His eyes were cool, detached.

"The doctor says you need this," he said flatly. "Take it before you cause another scene."

No softness. No concern. Just dismissal.

Elizabeth lingered in the doorway, red lips curved into a smirk that dared me to resist. Her presence alone made the air suffocating.

So I obeyed. Two white pills, bitter against my tongue, swallowed dry because neither offered me water.

Daniel didn't wait. He loosened his tie and brushed past her, his hand grazing her arm in a touch that was too familiar, too intimate. As if it belonged there. Her laugh followed him into the adjoining room, low and satisfied, until even the walls seemed to thrum with it.

At first, there was nothing. Just silence pressing in on me. Then it began, the warmth, slow, almost harmless. But it spread quickly, curling in my stomach, burning its way into my veins. My hands shook as I stumbled to the mirror.

The reflection staring back at me was a ghost. Pale, lips drained of color, eyes sunken into shadow. The glow I once carried had fled. My skin looked dull, as if light itself had abandoned me.

Stress, I told myself. Stress and exhaustion. A trick of the mind. But Elizabeth's voice haunted me still, a cruel whisper etched into memory: She will not last much longer.

Later that night, voices drifted through the crack beneath my door. Servants again, careless, believing me asleep.

"They say the master has already ordered the divorce papers."

"And that woman... Elizabeth. She's always near him now."

A pause, then the youngest maid's hushed voice:

"He told the steward to ready the guest room. Tonight. He doesn't want her weakness in his chamber anymore. He wants Elizabeth where she belongs."

A silence followed, broken only by a sigh. "Poor Mrs. Cobbs. A wife erased while still alive."

The door creaked open. Daniel stood there, face blank, eyes colder than stone.

"You'll be staying in the guest room from now on," he said. No hesitation. No remorse. "It's better this way."

Elizabeth hovered just behind him, perfume thick in the air, her lips curved in quiet triumph.

I rose without a word, every ounce of dignity wrapped around me like armor. My steps carried me past them, steady though my knees trembled.

The guest room was colder than I expected. The walls bare, the air hollow. Stripped of warmth, stripped of history. As if prepared for someone who did not belong.

I sank onto the bed, pressing my palms to my ears, desperate to block out the world. But the mansion betrayed me.

Elizabeth's laughter seeped through the walls, followed by Daniel's voice, low, commanding, the same tone he once used for me. Then the rhythm. Their rhythm. The sounds I had once prayed for, sounds that once tethered me to him, now carved through me like blades.

Each gasp. Each sigh. A wound I could not close.

My nails dug into the sheets until the fabric tore. Tears stung, but I refused to let them fall. Instead, I turned toward the mirror propped against the far wall.

The woman who stared back was trembling, faded, her light stolen piece by piece. Not dying, not yet, but poisoned slowly, deliberately, erased a little more each night.

And still, somewhere beneath the frailty, something stirred. A spark that refused to die.

They wanted me erased. They wanted me broken.

But as the walls shook with their laughter and moans, I whispered the truth to myself, low and steady.

Not yet.

I would not give them my ending.