The Heir's Ninety Ninth Regret
I had been secretly dating my brother's best friend, Nico Gallo, for three years, but he would never make our relationship public.
Despite this, I never doubted his love for me. After all, I was the woman who made him stop dating, the one who broke his streak. Ninety-nine others came before me; after me, there were none. If I so much as sneezed, he’d drop everything—his family’s multi-million-dollar empire included—just to rush home and care for me.
But on my birthday, just as I was excitedly preparing to share the news of my pregnancy with Nico, he forgot. For the first time, he forgot my birthday and vanished without a trace. The housekeeper told me he’d gone to the airport to pick up someone important.
I rushed there and saw him, clutching a bouquet, his face a mask of nervous anticipation as he waited for a woman—a woman who bore a startling resemblance to me.
Later, my brother told me she was Nico’s first love, the one that got away. Nico had once defied his own father, the formidable Don Gallo, for her. After she dumped him, he shattered completely. That's when he started cycling through ninety-nine other women, each one a pale imitation of his lost love, a desperate attempt to fill the chasm she left behind.
My brother spoke of Nico's profound affection with a tone of admiration, never suspecting that I was just one of those substitutes.
I watched Nico and his first love for a long, silent moment. Then, without a second of hesitation, I returned to the hospital. "Doctor," I managed, my voice trembling, "I… I don't want this baby anymore."