Too Late For Regret:The Billionaire Cherishes Me

Her fingers trembled as she gripped the small plastic stick. Two pink lines appeared beneath the bathroom light.

Julissa Hays stared at the test, frozen. Then she slowly looked up at the mirror.

Pregnant.

She pressed the test against her chest, unable to hide the smile on her lips. After two years of marriage, she finally had their baby. Her and Haskell's baby.

She couldn't wait to tell Haskell. She imagined the surprise on his face when he learned he was going to be a father.

She hurried out of the bathroom and picked up her phone. Haskell's name appeared on the screen.Her finger hovered over the call button.

For the past three months, he had barely been home. When he returned, it was always late at night.

After a moment, she lowered her hand.She would tell him tonight. In person. After preparing his favorite dinner.

With that thought, Julissa walked into the kitchen and started cooking.

Just as she turned, her phone screen lit up. A notification slid into view from the New York Daily Post's gossip section. The headline made her freeze.

"Billionaire Haskell Francis's Cozy Weekend with Mystery Mother and Daughter. A Secret Family Revealed?"

A hand, cold and invisible, clenched around Julissa's heart. The air left her lungs.

Her fingers moved on their own, tapping the link. The few seconds it took for the page to load stretched into an eternity.

And then, the picture.

It filled the entire screen. A high-resolution photo, the Central Park Carousel bright in the background.

Haskell Francis, her husband, was crouched down. He was looking at a little girl, maybe four or five years old, with an expression of such unguarded tenderness that it stole Julissa's breath. It was a look she had never, not once, received.

In his hand, he held a pink cloud of cotton candy, patiently offering it to the little girl. A faint smile played on his lips.

And beside him, a woman with long, flaxen hair had her arm linked intimately with his. Her head rested lightly on his shoulder, her face a portrait of smug satisfaction.

Julissa knew that woman.

Anastasia Conner.

Haskell's "childhood neighbor and friend." Just a friend.

The text below the photo gushed about what a "perfect family" the three of them made. It mentioned Anastasia was a widow with a young daughter, and that she had always been under the care of the Francis family.

Julissa's eyes remained fixed on the photo. On the way Haskell looked at that little girl with such tenderness. It felt like a sharp, poisoned blade twisting deep inside her.

She remembered last month. She'd had the flu, a fever of 102. She had called him, her voice weak.

"See the family doctor," he had said, his tone clipped with impatience. "Don't act like a child."

The contrast made her stomach churn violently. She stumbled back into the bathroom, doubling over the toilet, and retched. Nothing came up but sour bile.

It wasn't morning sickness. It was the physical revulsion of betrayal.

She slid down to the cold marble floor, tears finally breaking free, blurring the world into a watercolor of pain.

She looked down at her flat stomach. Then back at the glowing screen of her phone, at that sickeningly perfect "family photo."

Her hand, shaking uncontrollably, closed around the pregnancy test. The hard plastic edges dug into her palm, a sharp, grounding pain.

She couldn't let him know.

Not when this child could become a tool to humiliate her. A target for the mockery of that woman and her daughter. She had to protect this baby.

Slowly, she pushed herself up. She went to the sink, splashing cold water on her face again and again, trying to wash away the shock, the hurt.

The woman in the mirror looked broken. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed from tears.

She went back to the bedroom. She wrapped the pregnancy test in layers of tissue and buried it in the hidden compartment at the bottom of her jewelry box.

Then, she picked up her phone. She didn't delete the news. Instead, she saved the photo.

She stared at Haskell's profile in the picture, and the last ember of warmth she held for him was extinguished, frozen into a solid block of ice.