All Chapters of MR BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET: CHASING HIS IRRESISTIBLE WIFE: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

(ARIELLE'S POV)A few days later, I was at work, with the incident with Jared pushed behind me, and long forgotten. I had hired Stephen the day after his interview, despite his cringe-worthy attempts at flattery. “Love at first sight,” he’d said, which I brushed off as nothing more than an embarrassing expression of youthful infatuation.As the days rolled on, I got to know him better and realized I’d made a wise choice. At first it was hard to connect this young man with the elite crowd Mr. Stone loved to brag about. But once he settled into the role, I knew he was exactly what I needed.Stephen’s obsessive attention to food quality and his sophisticated palate were beyond impressive for someone so new. I couldn't be more content with him—if only he could tone down the dramatic declarations of his undying affection for me.Honestly, I had enough of his theatrics, and I often found myself silently pleading for Rebecca to rescue me with her usual excuse: “Ma’am, I really need you to

(JARED'S POV)I was seated in the cafe, glancing at my wristwatch for what felt like the hundredth time. Arielle hasn't responded to my recent call or text. I was starting to get worried. Has she changed her mind about meeting me?Just as I was about to call her again, someone walked into my line of vision and sat down across from me at the table. "Hi," she said, sounding out of breath."Hi," I responded and paused as my eyes skimmed her face. She looked flushed, the type a woman had whenever she blushed so hard from a man's compliment, or...or something more.The thought of that aroused an intense feeling of jealousy in me. I knew she'd been out with someone when I went looking for her at the restaurant, and I couldn't stop myself from asking."Have you found someone new to love?" I blurted, trying to sound nonchalant.Her face dimmed, as disbelief clouded it, and then immediately, it turned cold. "Three years and your memory is suddenly bad? You shouldn't forget the last time we me

(REBECCA’S POV)I showed up to work with a ready smile on my face, not for anything in particular —because the day was just as ordinary as any other. I moved through the motions of my role at the restaurant with efficient muscle memory for most of the day. “Who’s taking the order for table eight?” Stephen asked as he poked his head into the kitchen.He was looking brighter than the previous day when Arielle had a visitor. I could tell what upset him so much even though he’d rather we both pretended like that wasn’t the reason. “I am,” I finally announced. “It will be ready in a second.”“Alright. We don’t want our customers waiting on their orders for so long,” he said with a nod before walking away.I quickly prepared the order, a classic English meal, imagining the couple at the table celebrating something special—perhaps an anniversary or a first date.“Hello guys,” Arielle’s voice chimed in as she entered the kitchen. My heart skipped at the sight of her. She looked a bit pale,

(SOFIA’S POV)I lay down on my back, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. The sound of the humidifier in the background was my only touch with reality.My mind flashed back to the past. The first man I ever married was wealthy — decades older, but wealthy. That’s what mattered to me at the time. He promised a life of luxury and affluence. I never married him for love. I wish I never did.He turned out to be a control freak who hoarded most of his wealth from me and made me put up with an entire planet of rules and regulations, hollow promises and disgusting sex. I took it till I couldn’t do so anymore. I’d planned to wait until he died—he was nearer to his death day or so I thought — so I could inherit his wealth. But when an easier way out came to me on a platter of gold, I jumped at it. I was out at a pub one night and then a stranger walked up to me. He offered to help me in a way I hadn’t expected. The terms of his offer were strange to me: he was going to help me get out of my mar

(ARIELLE’S POV)I paused in my meal, my cutlery gently slipping away. And then my face heat up in embarrassment. "Oh, Jared and I, we're working on it," I stammered, trying to deflect the conversation.But Jared quickly intervened, his expression sheepish. "Actually, Grandma, it's my issue. I'm the one who's been dragging my feet."Not entirely convinced, and being her usual determined self, Nana insisted on making us a "tonic soup," with claims that it was a recipe she'd learned on her travels to a remote village. "It will reignite the excitement in your systems," she said, with a mischievous smile.Jared and I exchanged uneasy glances. The hell, this was not what we planned for. "Grandma, really, it's not necessary," Jared protested, mirroring my thoughts as well.But she wouldn't budge. "Nonsense, my dear. This soup will do wonders. Trust me."After dinner, she left for the kitchen, and with the help of the chef, got busy with preparing the "tonic soup.” Minutes later, she presen