Too Late For Regrets, Mr. Billionaire (Brianna Meyers and Brandon Levy) novel Chapter 3

Over the next week, Brianna sliced through the bureaucracy, handling her work handover without waiting for her resignation to get approved. By Friday afternoon, she’d packed her stuff and walked out the door.

It wasn’t about flouting the rules, Brandon was still in Drokvine, and holding off would mean dragging things out for another month or more

After squandering seven years, she’d finally woken up She wasn’t wasting another second.

As she headed down with her box in hand, she bumped right into Margo.

Margo eyed her suspiciously, a touch of caution in her tone. “What’s all this?”

“Quitting.” Brianna beamed, her smile as bright as the sunshine pouring in from outside the building.

Margo sneered. “Does your big–shot hubby know?”

She clearly had some issues with Brandon, but Brianna couldn’t care less. “HR must’ve looped him in.”

He’d never given a damn about her business anyway. If anything, he’d probably be relieved to see her gone.

Margo smirked, obviously gearing up for some fireworks, but she bit her tongue and sauntered off

Brianna hauled her box outside, pulled out of the underground garage, and drove into sunlight so intense it made her squint.

Suddenly, her spirits lifted. She really ought to get more sun. It had a way of brightening everything up.

That weekend, she kicked off her search for a studio. She’d majored in jewelry design in college and done a master’s in historical artifact appraisal.

Her big dream had always been starting a luxury jewelry brand. Now, it was time to chase it again, step by step. Top priority: finding the right workspace.

A few places fell flat, so Patsy nudged her to hit up Tristan Pratt.

She thought, ‘Of course, how have I spaced on Tristan, the ultimate property mogul?‘

She rang him, and his warm, playful voice came through. “Hey there, gorgeous! What prompted this call?”

Tristan had this infectious energy that could cheer anyone up, just his voice chased away half the clouds in Brianna’s mind. “You around? Got something to ask, coffee?”

He said, “For you? Always. Where? I’ll swing by and grab you. I’m close to your office. Be there in ten to pick you up.” Tristan, Brianna, and Patsy were old childhood friends. As grown–ups, Brianna had tied the knot and started a family early, Patsy launched her venture, and Tristan jumped into the family biz. Life got hectic, and they’d drifted apart a bit. When Brianna arrived, Tristan was already waiting curbside.

Sharp slacks, crisp white shirt, Hermès belt, polished to a tee. With his wide eyes, strong nose, and slim lips, he exuded sunny vibes and boundless energy.

Brianna kept it straightforward: she was diving into jewelry design and needed a studio spot.

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He said, “Piece of cake! I’ve got a building in Moonlight Breeze Town sitting empty. Scenie spot, lakeside, and a quick hop to the shopping area, ideal for a studio.”

“I’ve heard of it. Isn’t that the one you earmarked for your own setup?”

“Yep, saved it for moi. But you’re such a underachiever, hitting your thirties without a ‘real‘ gig, and me? I’m a sucker for loyalty.”

Brianna burst out laughing and fired back that she wasn’t some stay–at–home stereotype.

“Oh, right, does your better half sign off on you going solo?” Tristan mentioned Brandon with obvious distaste, though he reined it in.

“We’re divorcing.” Brianna said it casually, taking a sip of coffee like it was small talk.

“Oh?” Tristan’s eyes bugged out as he leaned forward. “You’re really pulling the plug?”

“Yep, can’t afford to waste any more time.” She gave a resigned shrug. No drama, no tears.

Tristan scanned her face until he was convinced she meant it, then ditched the banter and got real. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

“High time. That eternal poker face, only you could’ve stuck it out this long. I never thought he was in your league. Girl, you

Chapter 3 The Birthday Party

were bullheaded, leaping right into that mess…”

Aristan went off, venting all his bottled–up beef with Brandon in a nonstop rant.

The studio spot was killer, with killer views of the lake and wetlands from the office. Brianna was thrilled.

She brainstormed reno ideas with the designer, picked out materials, and wrapped each day wiped out but totally content.

It was just at nightfall, when she was solo at home, that doubt crept in. Any mom would fret over her child.

Brianna pushed it down hard. All these days, she hadn’t reached out to Kendra once.

In those early days, thoughts of Kendra tore at her heart. She fretted over whether Kendra was eating or sleeping properly, and if Brandon could really take good care of her.

Bit by bit, though, she started to let go.

Kids grew up one way or another, smother them too much, and they’d drift away from you

Meanwhile, back at the hotel after the party, Kendra clutched her phone, a wave of sadness washing over her.

The lavender fields in Eighburgh were breathtaking and magical, the estate soirée utterly romantic. She’d had the time of her life.

Darcy had looked like a true princess in her pale purple gown.

She’d even set aside a matching lilac princess dress for her, topped with a crystal crown, and encouraged her to make a wish.

It was all perfect… except Brianna wasn’t part of it. She thought, ‘If only Mom could be as stunning as Darcy!‘

She longed for Brianna to be radiant and blissful, just like a fairy–tale princess. But Brianna only ever nagged and controlled

her.

Her friends at school were forever boasting about how great their relatives were and how tight their moms were with them. Darcy was incredible, but Brianna couldn’t stand her.

She just didn’t get why Brianna kept her distance from Darcy. She thought, ‘Could it be jealousy over how beautiful she is?’

It had been two weeks on the road with Brandon; at first, she’d been anxious about Brianna calling and finding out she was there to visit Darcy.

No calls came, and she’d felt a secret rush of relief.

But now, with so much time passed and still nothing, she missed her terribly.

Brandon stepped out of the bathroom and caught sight of Kendra’s sulky pout. “What’s wrong, my little princess?” “Dad, did Mom ever call?” She was hoping she’d dozed off and missed it.

“Nope.”

“Dad, I’m done with all the fun. I want to go home.”

“All right, we will.” Brandon was baffled too; since word of Brianna’s resignation, she’d gone radio silent.

Kendra was her everything; usually, the minute they hit the road, her endless stream of calls would start, more annoying than spam. This time? Not a peep.

The puzzlement lasted only a second before he shoved it aside. A silent wife was exactly what he’d always wanted. Once he’d wrapped up his tasks–Kendra long since tucked in and snoring–he was slipping into bed when his phone buzzed.

He furrowed his brow, thinking, ‘Who the hell is calling this late?‘

It was the chief of staff. “Mr. Levy, domestic social media’s blowing up with stories about you.”

He asked, “What kind?”

“You and Kendra at that Eighburgh birthday bash, pics of you two, but her face is mosaiced out.”

“Oh?”

He thought, ‘Private party, how did the photos get out?‘

“Some spin it as a family vacation celebration with your wife and daughter,” the director hesitated, sounding guilty, “others say it’s you spoiling your side piece and love child…”

Brandon couldn’t care less; he thought, ‘Is this worth dragging me out of bed?‘

“Have PR handle it.”

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