Regret Won't Win Me Back, Mr. Billionaire

Tags: Broken Engagement, Revenge & Face-Slap, Regretful Ex, Sweet Romance The day after my family went bankrupt and my father jumped from the roof of our estate, my fiancé, Jason Harris, showed up at my front door with his lawyer to call off our wedding. We hadn't even had time to set up the memorial service yet. The house was in absolute shambles. Distant relatives were weeping, and my mother was sobbing uncontrollably in the living room. Jason stood in the doorway, dressed in an immaculate, tailor-made suit, completely untouched by the misery surrounding him. "Elena, step outside," he said. His voice was as detached and cold as ever, utterly devoid of emotion. He slid a check for twenty million dollars across the patio table toward me. "The Vance family's debt is a bottomless pit. The Harris Group cannot afford to get dragged down with you. My mother has already arranged a new marriage for me." He paused, and a rare, subtle blush crept up to the tips of his ears. "My new bride is Chloe Quinn." The polite smile I had been forcing instantly shattered. Chloe Quinn. The woman he had spent three whole years chasing in college—his untouchable, pure white moonlight. After that, I handled my father's funeral entirely alone, liquidated every single asset I had, and dragged myself back out of hell. We met again at his and Chloe’s engagement gala. With bloodshot eyes, he begged for another chance, swearing that I was the only woman he had ever truly loved. I pulled my hand from his grip with a faint smile, holding up the ultrasound report I had just picked up from the clinic that morning. "Mr. Harris, I'm already married." After laying my father to rest, I began selling off whatever was left of our family’s assets. The mansion, the luxury cars, the fine art... everything that could be converted into quick cash was put up for sale. Even with the twenty million Jason gave me, it was a drop in the ocean compared to the mountain of corporate debt my father had left behind. Overnight, I went from a pampered, sought-after heiress to a ruined outcast buried under millions in liabilities. The so-called "friends" who used to shower me with praise now avoided me like the plague. My phone was completely dead, save for the relentless calls from debt collectors ringing right on schedule. That afternoon, I packed a few limited-edition designer handbags into a tote and headed to the largest luxury consignment boutique in the city center. The owner, Clara, had known my family for years, and I used to be one of her best VIP clients. The moment I pushed the glass door open, I saw several familiar faces. It was Jason’s childhood buddies, Kevin and Liam. They were crowding around a slender, elegantly dressed woman who was trying on pieces from the newest high-jewelry collection. I froze, my fingers going numb against the handles of my tote. That woman was Chloe Quinn. The second Kevin spotted me, a sneer twisted his lips. "Well, well. If it isn't the great Elena Vance! What's the matter? Fallen so low you're hawking your old bags?" Liam chimed in with venomous sarcasm, "Hey, Kevin, don't be so harsh. She’s being totally independent now, so inspiring! Though I wonder if that twenty million Jason tossed her was even enough to keep the loan sharks away?" I tightened my grip on the tote bag, digging my fingernails deep into my palms. My face stayed completely blank. Refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction, I walked straight past them to the counter and set the bags down in front of Clara. Clara looked at me with open pity. She lowered her voice and said, "Elena, honey, you don't have to do this alone. If you need help, talk to me. Don't carry it all by yourself." I shook my head, forcing a smile that felt weaker than tears. "I'm okay, Clara. Just please tell me how much I can get for these. I need the cash today." Chloe overheard us. Clicking across the marble floor in her designer stilettos, she glided over gracefully. Her eyes drifted over the bags on the counter with a delicate sweep, the corners of her mouth curling into a faint, knowing smirk. "Elena, I really didn't expect to run into you in a place like this." Her voice was soft and gentle, but her gaze was dripping with condescension. "These bags... weren't they birthday gifts Jason gave you over the years? Rushing to pawn them off already... you really must be desperate for cash." Her words were like fine needles, stabbing straight into my chest. Right then, the chime above the boutique door rang, and Jason walked in. When his eyes landed on me, his face instantly darkened. His brow furrowed in undisguised irritation. "Elena? What are you doing here?" he asked coldly. "Are you stalking me?" I was so furious that the anger circled back into complete numbness. A chill swept through me. I lifted my chin and looked at him calmly. "I'm just here to sell some personal items, Jason." My lack of emotion only seemed to agitate him more. Chloe quickly stepped forward and linked her arm through his, speaking in a sweet, soothing tone, "Jason, please don't be mad. I'm sure Elena just happened to be passing by. Her situation is really difficult right now, we should be understanding." Her picture-perfect display of grace and compassion made me look like nothing more than a pathetic, clingy ex. Kevin immediately fueled the fire from the side. "Bro, she’s clearly still obsessed with you! She’s trying to claw her way back into your life. Women like her are toxic, you gotta keep your distance!" Jason’s expression grew even more disgust-filled. Looking like he couldn't stand breathing the same air as me for another second, he pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and slammed it down onto the glass counter with a heavy thud. "I'm buying these bags," he said, staring at me with eyes as cold as ice. "Elena, I told you, we're completely done. Take the cash, and never show your face in front of me again." That contemptuous tone, that arrogant act of charity, hit me harder than a physical slap across the face. The thick stack of cash on the counter seemed to scream at me, mocking every shred of dignity I had left. I stared at the money, then glanced at Chloe smiling softly beside him, and Kevin and Liam grinning with petty amusement. Suddenly, the whole scene felt utterly absurd. My hands trembled slightly at my sides. A few seconds later, I took a slow, deep breath, forced down the burning lump in my throat, and stepped forward. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, I reached out and picked up the stack of bills. Then, right in front of them, I counted through the bills one by one, deliberate and steady. Looking up, I flashed Jason a tight, rigid smile. "Exactly twenty thousand dollars. How generous of you, Mr. Harris. These bags cost a lot more when they were brand new, but since they're just second-hand junk now, I suppose this will do." I stuffed the bills into my worn canvas tote. Turning to Clara, I spoke softly, "Clara, you can keep the bags here for him. Mr. Harris has already paid." Jason clearly hadn't expected me to react like this. A flicker of shock flashed across his handsome face, quickly replaced by a deeper, darker scowl. I didn't spare him another glance. I didn't look at anyone else, either. Keeping my spine ramrod straight, I turned and walked out of the store, one step at a time. The moment I cleared the front doors and the cold afternoon wind hit my face, my tears finally broke free. Clutching that worn canvas tote stuffed with twenty thousand dollars of pity money, I crouched on the busy street corner and sobbed like a lost child. Turns out, when harsh reality crushes down on you, pride really can be ground into dust.To raise more funds as fast as possible, I dug out the private wine collection my father had left behind. Among the bottles was a rare, vintage Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, worth a fortune. I contacted a broker at a private, underground auction house, hoping it would fetch a high price. The auction took place in a secluded private club downtown. The lighting was dim, and the atmosphere felt suffocatingly heavy. Dressed in a plain T-shirt and washed-out jeans, I sat among rows of impeccably dressed elites, looking completely out of place. When my bottle was brought up to the stage, my palms began to sweat with anxiety. This was likely the last high-value asset I had left to sell. Just then, a guy wearing an oversized hoodie, a baseball cap, and a face mask slid into the empty seat beside me. He was shrouded in shadow, revealing only a pair of sharp, fiercely rebellious eyes. A faint scent of expensive liquor and crisp tobacco lingered around him. "Hey," he suddenly spoke up. His voice was slightly husky, carried by the bright energy of youth. "You here to pawn stuff off, too?" I ignored him. He didn't seem to care and kept rambling on his own. "I just got into a huge fight with my family and stormed out. They're trying to force me to take over the family firm. Annoying as hell. Seriously, why can't people just do what they actually love?" I stayed completely silent. I had an endless mountain of real problems to deal with; I had zero energy to indulge a spoiled rich kid's teenage angst. He didn't really need a response anyway. He just kept muttering to himself in a low voice. From esports championships to his overbearing older brother, all the way to the stray cat he adopted. He only stopped talking when the bidding for my wine began. The price climbed steadily, and my heart leaped into my throat. Finally, the gavel struck down at a number that exceeded my expectations. I let out a long, heavy breath of relief. The guy next to me suddenly scoffed. "Boring." With that, he stood up and strode out of the hall. By the time I finished the paperwork, collected my payout check, and walked out of the venue, it was already past midnight. The moment I stepped past the lobby doors, I saw the guy in the hoodie being swarmed by a mob of paparazzi. "Leo! Why did you suddenly skip the grand finals tonight? Is there bad blood between you and team management?" "Leo, the rumors say you're retiring for good, is that true?" "Leo, give us a statement—" Trapped in the middle of the crowd, he waved his arms around in sheer irritation. "Stop flashing your damn cameras! Back off!" It hit me then. This noisy stranger was Leo Zhou—the legendary esports prodigy known across the country for his god-tier gaming skills and his notoriously explosive temper. His gaze swept through the crowd and caught sight of me. His eyes lit up. Before I could process what was happening, he reached out, grabbed my arm, pulled me against his side, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Facing the stunned reporters, he announced, "Can't you see I'm on a date with my girlfriend? Back off!" I froze completely solid. Dozens of camera flashes turned and blinded me instantly. Leo leaned down and whispered into my ear, "Do me a favor and play along. I know you need cash. I'll pay you for your trouble." Before I could even open my mouth to refuse, he tightened his grip around my shoulders, shoved through the sea of flashing lights, and pushed me straight into the passenger seat of an eye-catching luxury sports car parked by the curb. The engine roared to life, and the car shot forward. Staring at the shrinking crowd of reporters in the rearview mirror, my mind went totally blank. "Thanks, babe," Leo said, pulling down his mask to reveal an insanely handsome face. Fair skin, sharp jawline, and eyes that curled up slightly at the corners with effortless, playful charm. "What's your name? Let me get your SnapChat so I can send you the money." "No need," I said coldly. "Pull over. I'm getting out." He raised an eyebrow. "Feisty, huh? Fine. Guess I owe you one." He pulled the car over to the curb. Without looking back, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the night. I thought that was the end of a bizarre, one-off encounter. I had no idea that by the very next morning, my face and the hashtag #LeosSecretGirlfriend would explode across the trending feeds.Going viral brought me a massive wave of unexpected trouble. Not only was I bombarded with hate messages from Leo's rabid fanbase, but the debt collectors also saw the headlines. Assuming I had bagged a billionaire sugar daddy, their collection calls and threats became twice as aggressive. While I was drowning in stress, Leo showed up on my doorstep as if nothing was wrong. God only knows how he tracked down my phone number and my address, but there he was, standing outside my rundown apartment door holding a giant grocery bag full of imported snacks. "Hey, Elena, I'm here to pay back that favor," he said, grinning like a sly little fox. "Doesn't look too cozy in here. How about I rent you a luxury penthouse downtown?" "I don't need your charity." I stood firm in the doorway, blocking his way in. "Come on, don't be a stranger." He slid past me effortlessly, stepping inside and casually looking around the cramped space. "I heard about what happened to your family's business. And your ex-fiancé is that Jason Harris from Harris Corp, right? Man, what a total scumbag, dropping you the second things went south." He dropped the snacks onto the small counter and threw himself onto my creaky old sofa as if he owned the place. "Alright, shoot. What do you need me to do? As long as it's within my power, consider it done." Looking at his laid-back, carefree posture, an inexplicable wave of irritation washed over me. "I need you to stay as far away from me as possible." "No can do," he replied, spreading his hands with an easy shrug. "A favor's a favor. How about this—want me to go beat the living hell out of Jason for you?" I let out a bitter, exasperated laugh. "Who do you think you are? You think you can assault someone without facing consequences?" "I can handle the fallout," he answered matter-of-factly. "My family has more than enough money to clean up my messes anyway. Besides, handling damage control is my big brother's absolute favorite pastime." I realized then that trying to reason with someone whose brain was wired like this was an exercise in pure exhaustion. Ignoring him, I turned back to my desk and resumed sorting through the towering piles of legal notices and debt settlement documents. He went quiet, too, just sitting on the sofa watching me. The apartment fell dead silent, broken only by the crisp rustle of turning pages. After a long while, he spoke again, his voice dropping into a much softer register. "Hey... it really hurts, doesn't it?" I didn't look up from my papers. "When my grandma passed away, I acted just like you," he said quietly. "Walking around pretending to be tough, pretending nothing could break me, when on the inside, everything was completely shattered." He paused for a beat. "You know, if you wanna cry, you can just cry. It's really not that big of a deal." My hands froze. Tears spilled over without warning, splashing onto the paper below and blurring the black ink into messy pools. Ever since my father jumped, everyone had looked at me with pity, scorn, or cold disdain. Only him—a total stranger I had met two days ago—saw right through the armor I had built around myself. I couldn't hold it in any longer. Burying my face in my arms, the sobs I had suffocated for weeks finally tore out of my throat. Leo didn't crowd me or offer empty platitudes. He simply reached out and quietly slid a box of tissues across the table toward me. When my crying finally subsided, he spoke up, "Done? Good. Now that the tears are out of the way, it's time to figure out a plan. You can't carry this entire mountain alone. Do you trust me?" I raised my red, swollen eyes to look at him. He grinned, showing off his sharp little canine teeth. "From today on, I'm your guy. Not in a boyfriend way, but as your ally. You do the scheming and strategizing, and I'll be your funding and your muscle. Deal?" In that moment, the warm afternoon sunlight spilled through the grime on the narrow window, catching the bright, determined light dancing in his eyes. Almost under a spell, I nodded.Leo truly became my ally. He never offered me straight cash because he knew my pride wouldn't let me accept it. Instead, he found endless roundabout ways to help. Whenever he claimed he was tilted from losing a scrimmage match, he would drag me out to five-star restaurants and "accidentally" order a feast consisting entirely of my favorite dishes. He would claim his walk-in closet was overflowing and casually dump brand-new, designer clothing onto my couch, all of which miraculously fit my exact measurements. Once, when two shady debt collectors cornered me in an alleyway behind my apartment, he appeared out of nowhere like a guardian angel, knocking them both flat on their backs in under two minutes. Even though he took a stray hit and ended up with a bruised cheek, he grinned wider than anyone. "Elena, was I cool or what?" He tilted his bruised face up at me, practically begging for praise like an excited golden retriever. Dabbing antiseptic onto his cut, I rolled my eyes fondly. "Cool? You looked like an absolute idiot." With him around, the suffocating grayness of my life slowly began to fill with color. I even found the energy to start fighting back. Jason and Chloe’s formal engagement party was scheduled for a month later. The digital invitation arrived in my inbox courtesy of Kevin, complete with a vicious note: [Elena, you’re warmly invited to bear witness to the happiness you could never keep.] It reeked of Chloe’s handiwork. She wanted to stomp me into the dirt in front of the entire high-society circle. I showed the invitation to Leo. The moment he read it, he slammed his phone onto the couch. "Those arrogant bastards! Elena, let's crash the venue! I'll make sure that wedding never happens!" "Crashing the venue is amateur work," I said, shaking my head with a cold smirk. "I'm going to give them a real gift. A gift that will haunt the rest of their lives." I got straight to work. Digging through my father’s old corporate contacts, I started digging into Chloe Quinn's background. It didn't take long to uncover a fascinating little secret. Back when Chloe was studying abroad, her degree wasn't in finance as her shiny resume claimed—it was in art history. The only reason she was handed an executive role at Harris Corp the second she returned to the country was through her father's close ties with the Harris family. And the sole reason Jason had started viewing her as a brilliant visionary was because, right when he was launching his first tech venture, she had presented him with a groundbreaking master proposal that perfectly mirrored his vision. On paper, they looked like an intellectual match made in heaven. Too bad that proposal was written entirely by me. During our junior year of college, Jason was scrambling to launch his first startup, spending day and night locked in the campus library. I stayed by his side through every sleepless night, conducting the market research and writing the strategic framework from scratch. Later on, he told me the project had been scrapped, and the original draft vanished. Looking back now, he must have handed over my hard work on a silver platter just to win the favor of his precious white moonlight. On the night of the engagement gala, I slipped into a sleek black cocktail dress Leo had picked out for me and did my makeup flawlessly. Leo wore a crisp white tailored suit, looking like a prince straight out of a fairy tale. Standing side by side, we looked striking together. "Elena, you look stunning tonight," he murmured, his eyes glowing with genuine awe. "A hundred times gorgeous than that Chloe girl." Linking my arm through his, I stepped into the glittering, gilded ballroom. Our entrance instantly pulled every set of eyes in the room toward us. The second Jason spotted me, his face drained of color. Striding over with an icy scowl, he hissed in a harsh whisper, "Elena Vance, what are you pulling? I'm warning you, tonight is the most important night of Chloe's and my life. Don't you dare cause a scene!" Before I could answer, Leo stepped smoothly between us, flashing an arrogant, mocking grin. "Watch your tone, Mr. Harris. My girlfriend is just here to offer her congratulations. Why are you so terrified of a little scene?" "Your girlfriend?" Jason’s eyes flickered between the two of us, his expression a mix of sheer disbelief and a flicker of raw jealousy he couldn't quite conceal. Kevin rushed over, pointing an accusing finger at me. "Elena, you have no shame! How long has it been since you and Jason broke up, and you're already latching onto a pretty boy toy?" I didn't waste a single breath on them. Gliding past their pathetic outrage, I walked toward a quiet corner near the stage and took a seat. The formal ceremony began. Jason and Chloe stood together on the raised platform, bathed in warm spotlights, looking every bit the power couple. The emcee delivered an emotional, dramatic speech detailing their "fairy-tale romance." "...During the toughest phase of Mr. Harris's entrepreneurial journey, it was Miss Chloe Quinn who reached across the ocean, providing him with an invaluable master proposal that laid the foundation for his empire today. She told him, 'Your dream is my dream.' For a once-in-a-lifetime love like this, let us give them our warmest applause!" The ballroom erupted in thunderous applause. Chloe looked up at Jason with dewy, adoring eyes. Moved by the moment, Jason pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Right then, I pulled out my phone and hit send, blasting a confidential document package to every mainstream business journalist and tech reporter in the room. Then, I stood up, walked directly over to Kevin, and spoke in a clear, measured voice, "Kevin, haven't you been secretly harboring feelings for Chloe for years? How about I hand you a golden opportunity?"