Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband

the seat. Cressie Winters knew this because she had been staring at the floor for forty-fi

er balloon that had been overfilled and left out in the sun. Her ankles, usually slender, were currently spilling over the edges of her loafers. She had tried to hide them by pulling down the hem

hands. Partners rubbing lower backs. A man in a navy sweater was currently

p down. She clutched the crumpled appointment ticket in her hand until her knuckles turned white. She was Mrs. Ellsworth

. Ba

o use the armrests, her breath hitching as a sharp pain shot through her lower back. No one offer

markers are visible. You need to reduce stress. The doctor didn't look her in the eye. He looked at her chart, then

led like fresh lilies and money. She kept her head down, hugging her purse to her chest to cover the stain on her m

ors slid open w

avy as lead, seemed to glue t

d like they had been cut from the pages of a magazine

is broad shoulders. He looked impeccable. He looked powerful. He looked like

e Ma

essie's entire college tuition. Her hair was a glossy waterfall of dark waves, her face pe

k a step back, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against

heel caught on the wheel of a jani

an

y. A mop handle clattered to the floor. A bucket

head t

e was bent slightly at the waist, one hand reaching out to steady the car

ent, swept over Cressie. For a fraction of a second, the innocence slipped. A spark of recognition flashed

A smile. Not a warm one. A smile that lo

he said, her voice carrying clearly across the distance. "Is the hospital cutting budget

left the

o her belly. She waited for Ellsworth to correct her. She waited for him to say, T

eyes, the color of frozen oc

sticking to her forehead. He looked at the

g in his eyes. Recognition. And th

His expression went bl

evoid of emotion. He didn't look at Cressie. He looked at his assistant st

t

called

the button. The doors

he saw Jolie lean in and whisper something in Ellsworth's ear, laughing softly. She saw

they we

, the smell of Chanel No. 5 linger

atch it

bs pushed past her to grab the

ally. "I'm sorry," she

d her abdomen. She gasped, dropping the bottle, and clutched her stomach. The pain was bl

Not with tears. She wouldn't cry. Crying was for

he stood on the curb, shivering. Her phone buzzed in

m:

ct: U

the warehouse. I need you to talk to El

see a sleek black Maybach pull out of the VIP driveway. It glided past her, the tinted windo

didn't s

ll her father that his savior, his son-in-law, had just l

b slowed, the driver looking her up and dow

the vinyl seat col

r asked, eyeing her i

voice sounded foreign to her own

y thinking she was the he

cold glass. She placed a hand on h

he whispered to the window.

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