Too Late For Regrets, Mr. Billionaire (Brianna Meyers and Brandon Levy) novel Chapter 152

Chapter 152 Darcy’s Assassination Attempt

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The haute couture dinner launch went ahead as planned, and everyone who was supposed to be there-and some who weren’t-showed up.

Crystal chandeliers spilled shards of light across the floor as Brianna drifted between the crowd and champagne towers, her dress fluttering like a worn-out flag.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Reese occasionally chatting with Nancy, their smiles as sharp as knives. Brianna’s lips curled into the faintest smirk.

At the main table, Gabrielle sat with regal composure beside Brandon, while Kendra was positioned right between them.

The society ladies approached one after another, their dazzling jewels and polite chatter weaving an invisible web of social intrigue.

Brianna gazed across the sea of people, her chest tightening sharply. Her daughter was trapped right at the heart of that web.

As the launch wrapped up, the buffet reception kicked off right away. Outside the glass hall, the yacht was already glowing with neon lights, waiting for the next round of revelry.

Brianna kept straightening Kendra’s little shawl, her fingers trembling with anxiety.

Gabrielle couldn’t leave. The society ladies respected her, and if she walked out, all those connections would unravel. But if Gabrielle stayed, Kendra would have to stay too.

Brandon? He was always in the spotlight. Asking him to babysit was like expecting the stage lights to lull a child to sleep.

Brianna knew better than anyone just how many eyes were secretly fixed on her tonight.

If she hovered around Kendra, it would be like marking her daughter as the target.

She spotted Clair chatting with a group of wealthy wives.

“Clair,” Brianna whispered, “Reese showed up uninvited. I’m worried she’s here to stir up trouble.”

Clair followed her gaze and saw Reese across the room, raising her glass. Under the lights, her red lips glowed, dangerous as a poisoned poppy.

“Keep a close eye on Kendra for me,” Brianna said, her voice rough with worry. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Clair lowered his eyes to Brianna and said quietly, “Trust me.”

As the corridor lights flickered, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her shoulder. His touch was brief, gone in an instant, like buttoning up a comrade’s uniform before heading into battle.

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Too Late For Regrets, Mr. Billionaire

The crowd surged in again, and the two split up, each melting into the night on their own path.

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Brianna glanced back and saw Clair standing just behind Kendra, his posture tall and steady, like a silent shield unfurled right at her side.

Brianna drew a deep breath, her heels clicking as she stepped deeper into the party, where every smile cut as sharp as a blade, and there was no way out for her now.

The cruise ship’s horn blared, a long, mournful sigh echoing through the night.

The deck was awash with light, and the band played with a sultry, almost dangerous vibe. Guests melted into the salty sea breeze, their jewels flashing like a swarm of shimmering krill drifting through the water.

Brianna leaned against the railing, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb along the rim of her glass. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she could feel that invisible thread of tension inside her pulled tight as a wire.

She glanced up, and for a moment, it felt like a pair of eyes surfaced from the darkness of the sea-Darcy was here, somewhere on this ship.

At midnight, the ship was already out on the open sea.

Suddenly, a loud crash erupted from the starboard side. A food cart toppled over, glass bursting into the crowd like a string of firecrackers. Screams and laughter tangled together, and everyone whipped their heads toward the source of the noise.

Amid the chaos, a “waiter” carrying an empty tray, with one hand behind his back, headed directly for her.

The sleeves of his uniform were too short, exposing a sliver of pale wrist bone, sharp, like a blade unsheathed.

Brianna hesitated for just half a second before turning around. But it was too late.

Their eyes locked. It was Darcy!

Before Brianna could even say her name, her wrist was clamped in a vise-like grip. The tray crashed to the floor, and a flash of silver-thin as a cicada’s wing, but with a reckless, do-or-die ferocity-lunged straight for her heart.

Her heart hammered so hard she couldn’t even cry out; just a faint gasp slipped from her lips.

Just before the blade could reach her, someone yanked her back with brute force. “Shhk.”

The knife sank into flesh, but it wasn’t hers.

A tall figure stepped in front of her, and a dark patch quickly spread across the front of his suit. In the moonlight, his face was blurred and shadowy, but his eyes shone with an unsettling brightness.

Darcy let out a wild, beast-like roar, ripped the knife out, and struck again.

The second stab hit his chest, blood splashing onto her pale hand like burning drops of crimson.

Just as she raised the knife for a third strike, someone finally lunged from the side and tackled her hard to the

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Too Late For Regrets, Mr. Billionaire.

ground.

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The knife clattered out of her hand, skidding across the deck and leaving a blood-streaked arc behind.

Only then did the screams erupt, the band’s bows jolting as a saxophone rolled off the deck, notes shattering like glass.

The crowd scattered in panic as the champagne tower crashed down, wine and blood mingling and streaming through the gutters, staining the midnight sea below.

The man’s knees gave way, but his hand still clamped around Brianna’s wrist, anchoring her behind him as if shielding her with his own body.

She reached out to steady him, her palm instantly drenched. His blood, so hot, felt like it was scorching her skin.

In the distance, Darcy was pinned to the deck, still laughing hysterically. Her shrill, manic laughter echoed like a siren ripping through the night, tearing sails to shreds.

The crowd was frozen in place, as if the sea had turned to ice. The blood pooling on the deck reflected in their wide, shocked eyes.

Then the man pinning Darcy looked up. It was Brandon.

He drove one knee into Darcy’s back, his knuckles bone-white with effort. The wind whipped at the back of his suit, flapping behind him like a battered flag.

Brianna whipped her head around in panic, and only then did she see who had really taken the blade for her

-Kane.

He was half-collapsed against the railing, one hand pressed to his chest, but blood kept stubbornly oozing through his fingers, dripping onto the deck, each drop splintering like shattered black coral.

She threw herself at him, both hands clamped desperately over his wound, but the hot blood still burst through her fingers, soaking her entire designer gown in crimson.

“Why?” Brianna’s voice was rough, every word tinged with the taste of blood and iron.

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