Billionaire's Regrets: BEG TO MOMMY

A new life in Paris

Rosé

Five years have passed.

“This is not my job, Mr. Aubert!” I snapped, throwing a confidential file onto his desk. “I lead the finance team, not the information team. This isn’t our responsibility.”

Mr. Aubert gave me an I-am-so-tired-of-this-s**t yet stubborn look, clearly not wanting to deal with this confrontation.

“Ms. Presley, you need to understand that as an employee—”

“Please don’t,” I interrupted, raising my hand. “Don’t use that tired line on me. I’m not buying it. Ever since you got your promotion, you’ve become someone else. Honestly, I’m disappointed.”

“What?!” he stammered, his face turning red. “Do you even understand what you’re saying? I could fire you!”

“On what grounds, Mr. Aubert?” I challenged, crossing my arms. “Please stop pressuring my team to handle another department’s work. We don’t know anything about IT, and frankly, this is unprofessional. We aren't IT experts. Stop this nonsense already! ”

Before he could respond, I spun on my heel and marched out of his office.

Four years in this branch near Paris had taught me that standing up for myself was sometimes the only way to survive. Moving here had been a practical decision—a fresh start in a city with excellent schools for my daughter.

Diana was thriving. She had just started elementary school and was growing into the healthy, happy child I had always dreamed of.

“Ms. Presley!” I heard Mr. Nick’s voice call out as I passed by his desk.

“What’s up? I thought you were taking a half day,” I said, pausing. He was supposed to attend a family wedding in the afternoon.

“Yeah, I am heading to,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “But I saw your daughter in the lobby.”

“My daughter? Diana?”

“Yeah, she’s with a man. A handsome man with—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. “Thanks, Mr. Nick!” I called over my shoulder as I hurried toward the elevator.

I cursed under my breath, realizing I was late picking her up from school. Of all the days! Between Mr. Aubert’s antics and my workload, I’d completely lost track of time. Mother of the Year Award, here I come.

Thankfully, she wouldn't get upset. Diana is a sweet understanding kid.

“Mommy!”

Diana’s voice rang out just as I reached the lobby. She darted toward me, wrapping her tiny arms around my legs before I could kneel to hug her.

“My sweet fairy!” I said, holding her close. “I’m so sorry, baby. I forgot to pick you up.”

“It’s okay, Mommy,” she said, smiling. “I decided to surprise you today! Uncle Ryan picked me up!”

I looked up to see Ryan standing nearby, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets.

“Ryan! Thank you again,” I said, relief washing over me.

“No worries, Rosé,” he replied with a grin. “I was debating whether to visit Dad or my favorite girl here, so I went with the obvious choice.” He grinned.

The best award of the year goes to Uncle Ryan... He deserves a Nobel prize for keeping my life peaceful.

Diana giggled, looking up at him. “Uncle Ryan loves me more than Grandpa! Mommy, today Emily asked if Uncle Ryan is my daddy.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Really? And what did you say?”

“I asked why she thought that,” Diana said, shrugging. “She said Uncle Ryan looks like me, and daddies look like their babies. So… is Uncle Ryan my daddy?”

Ryan crouched down, lifting Diana into his arms. “No, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I’m your godfather. Your daddy is in heaven, watching over you as you grow.”

Diana pouted, her innocent question heartbreaking. "Can’t he come back? Maybe I can buy him a plane ticket!"

Her innocent question broke my heart, but I kept my smile steady. “No, baby. There are no plane tickets to heaven. But don’t worry—we’re here, and we love you so much.”

“I love you too!” she said, planting a kiss on Ryan’s cheek.

“Let’s go,” Ryan said, standing up. “Dad wants us to have dinner with you two tonight.”

I nodded, following them toward the car.

The last five years had been challenging but rewarding. Moving to a new country with a three-month-old baby had been terrifying. I had to learn French and Spanish, adapt to a new culture, and rebuild my career from scratch.

Thankfully, my hard work paid off. In five years, I had earned three promotions and now led my own team. I’d even discovered a passion for designing clothes and jewelry. Living in the city of fashion, how could I not? Most of Diana’s outfits and my accessories were my own creations.

Thanks to my Boss who helped me to move quickly, I met lots of people. Lots of them were so welcoming that I became friends. Diana was thriving, meeting lots of people who adore her and spoiled her. She might have been abandoned by her father, but I was determined to give her the life she deserved.

As we reached the car, a familiar voice called out behind me.

“Rosé!”

I turned to see Emily Roberts, the whirlwind of energy who always managed to make my life both funnier and more complicated.

“Emily! What’s up?” I greeted her with a smile.

“Don’t you dare sweet-talk me,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I told you I need a unique design for my gala! Are you trying to ruin me?”

“Emily, I’ve told you—I’m not a designer,” I said, sighing. “I’m just an office worker with no degree in—”

“Don’t give me that nonsense. Where are you headed?”

“Nana’s house!” Diana chirped, waving.

“Oh, my buttercup! Can I come to dinner too?”

“Yes! My friend Emily wants to meet you because you stole her name!” Diana said, giggling.

“What?” Emily looked horrified. “Sorry, honey. I’ll apologize to her next time!”

Emily hopped into her car like usual, making herself way too comfortable with us. She was a famous novelist and screenwriter. But she had no ego or pride. She was introverted but when it came to Diana she would leave anything to play with her.

The half-hour drive was lively, filled with Diana and Emily’s chatter about everything and nothing. I was relaxing, sitting in the passenger seat while Ryan drove.

But then Emily casually dropped a bombshell, causing my breath to stick into my throat, making me suffocate.

“I heard the CEO of Montgomery Industries will be at the gala,” she said, scrolling through her phone. “His Italian grandparents are sponsoring it.”

At first, I thought nothing of it. Montgomery isn’t an uncommon name—it could just be another Italian third-generation heir.

Then she placed her phone on my lap.

“Isn’t he hot?” she asked, showing me a photo of Draven Montgomery.

My chest tightened, and my breath caught. After five years, I felt my heart shattering inside me. I thought I had moved past this five years ago when I signed my name on those cold and cruel papers.

“Are you okay? You look pale,” Emily asked, concern flashing across her face.

“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

Emily went on, oblivious. “This is the first time an American bachelor has caught my attention. I need to look my best!”

Emily, the gorgeous brunette, had no idea that Draven Montgomery’s world was one where his wife and daughter had never been allowed to belong.