Page 1 of Jealous Billionaire's Endless Regret

Chapter 1 A Divorce

The Velare Hotels headquarters was easily one of the most luxurious buildings in the country. It was a display of untouchable luxury, the kind of place whispered about in boardrooms and bookmarked in billionaires’ travel plans. Bamboo pillars lined the interior, blending perfectly with rich wood panels that exuded warmth and sophistication. Despite the cozy aesthetic, everything about it screamed wealth. The Velare brand was the crown jewel of elite hospitality across the country for over a century now.

Soft footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.

A woman moved gracefully down the hallway, her heels quiet against the polished floor. She wore an ankle-length dress with short sleeves, her long, dark hair parted to the side and tucked neatly behind her ear, cascading in a glossy wave past her hips.

Krystal Vale didn’t knock.

The glass door to the CEO’s office creaked open as she stepped inside without hesitation. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she made her way to the sitting area, placing the lunchbox she brought on the side table.

She took a deep breath and straightened her spine.

Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the room, giving a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. From this high up on the fiftieth floor, the city looked like a toy set. But from the outside, the windows reflected nothing. They were one-way glass because the CEO of Velare Hotels, Lorenzo Moretti didn’t believe in giving the world even a glimpse into his privacy.

The office interior matched his personality. Elegant, imposing, and unapologetically expensive. Dark mahogany shelves, leather-bound books, a custom-built desk, and couches made of pure leather. The kind of place you wouldn’t dare sit in unless invited.

Krystal sat on the edge of the leather couch and quietly opened the lunchbox. With careful hands, she arranged the food into bowls and plates, taking her time, glancing occasionally toward the door.

Still no sound. No sign of him.

Quickly, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small white packet.

She tore it open and sprinkled the powder over the food and into the juice glass, then stirred it thoroughly with a spoon, making sure every trace disappeared.

“After today’s dose, that Human Cactus will finally be cured,” she whispered to herself with a small, proud smile. “Once he takes this, that little tremor in his hands will be gone for good.”

She stuffed the empty packet back into her purse and stood up, clapping her hands lightly. Her voice dropped to a quiet murmur. “That’s it. Debt paid. Grandpa’s wish fulfilled. He funded my entire education, and in return, I treated his grandson’s condition. We're even now.”

Her fingers clasped together in quiet joy, but her smile faded almost instantly. She bit a nail, pacing lightly in front of the couch, brows furrowed.

“But how the hell am I supposed to make that workaholic eat it before the meds wear off?” she muttered under her breath. “The man treats food and sleep like they’re optional side quests he has no time for.”

The door creaked.

Heavy footsteps followed—steady, commanding. Her heart skipped before she could stop it. She turned quickly, smoothing the surprise off her face, pasting on a smile.

Lorenzo walked in, tall and sharp in a black crisp suit, his broad shoulders tense, his face devastatingly handsome. That usual cool expression of his could freeze fire.

The scent he wore was intense, a dark magnetism that would bring any passerby to their knees. But even beyond the perfume, she knew the raw, unfiltered scent beneath it—and it was no less intoxicating.

Krystal’s breath caught in her throat.

‘God, he really can steal anyone’s breath with that face.’

She instantly snapped herself out of it. No. No swooning over the Cactus!

Grabbing the glass of juice she’d poured earlier, she walked toward him quickly, a soft smile stretched across her lips.

“Baby, you’re finally here,” she said gently, her voice sweet and affectionate. “I’ve been waiting forever. Long day?”

She reached for his arm, rising slightly on her toes to get closer. Her body leaned into his as she lifted the glass to his lips, trying to get him to drink.

But he pulled back—hard.

His hand gripped hers, stopping the glass mid-air. With one swift motion, he pushed her away.

She stumbled slightly but caught herself.

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