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Chapter 81: Pressure Lines
Última actualización:
2026-02-13 17:32:09
Último capítulo
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter 84: Cornered
The boardroom smelled faintly of polished wood and tension. Afternoon sunlight sliced through the tall windows, painting sharp lines across the table. Derek sat rigidly, hands clasped in front of him, while Chris leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing, aware the air itself seemed to press against them.Allen’s footsteps echoed as he approached the head of the table. He carried a slim folder, and for the first time in weeks, his expression was unreadable—less the casual mask he often wore, more the kind of calm that unsettles even the most confident men.“Derek,” Allen began, voice even, deliberate, “thank you for joining me.”“I—of course,” Derek said, voice steady but thin, betraying the first hint of unease.Allen flipped open the folder and let it rest flat on the table between them.“I want to discuss shareholder interactions,” he said softly. “You’ve been active in recent weeks—unofficial meetings, before any public instability.”Derek stiffened. Chris is tensed in his chair.Allen
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter 83: Misalignment
Allen didn’t believe in coincidences. He believed in patterns. And patterns always revealed themselves if you were patient enough to let people think you weren’t watching. The consultant had been his idea. He’d wanted someone neutral. Foreign and detached. Someone who didn’t belong to any existing loyalties inside the company. Someone who would ask questions without emotional hesitation. He hadn’t told anyone the real purpose. Audit internal corruption, track information flow. See who flinched. The first week, nothing. The second week, movement. Ownership records accessed. Minority shareholder projections requested. Board structure hypotheticals drafted. None of it is illegal, but none of it is accidental. Allen stood in the consultant’s now-empty office, staring at the bare desk. He remembered the conversation from last night with unnerving clarity. “You didn’t disclose Frankfurt,” Allen had said quietly, sliding the printed file across the desk. The consultant’s face had
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter 82: Not Far Enough
The office felt different at night.The city lights bled through the glass walls in long silver streaks, turning the boardroom table into a blade of black marble. Allen stood at the head of it, jacket off, sleeves rolled precisely to the same height on both arms. Evelyn Carter sat to Allen’s right, legs crossed, hands folded loosely in her lap. She looked almost bored. Her eyes, though—were sharp. Studying, filing things away.“Sit,” Allen said.Derek did.He placed his phone face down on the table without being asked. His pulse thudded behind his ribs, but his face was steady and neutral.Allen didn’t sit.“I’ll keep this brief.” His voice was even, polished. “There’s movement in the shares.”Derek tilted his head slightly. “Movement is normal. We’re in Q4.”Evelyn’s lips curved faintly. “Not this kind.”Silence stretched. Derek felt it—like a wire tightening between them.Allen leaned forward, palms flat on the table. “Minority shareholders are being approached.”Derek didn’t blink
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter 81: Pressure Lines
Allen liked private rooms.Rooms where the air didn’t move unless he allowed it to.The first meeting was at noon. Glass walls. City skyline behind him. Sunlight cuts sharp lines across the table.Lydia Grant scutts him, spine straight, silk blouse immaculate, fingers wrapped too tightly around her water glass.Allen smiled gently. The kind of smile he used at charity galas.Lydia Grant preferred chamomile. He remembered that. He always remembered things that made people feel chosen.She sat across from him in his private office, the blinds half-drawn, light cutting soft stripes across the table. The room smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne.“You look tired,” he said gently.She smiled politely. “It’s been a long quarter.”“It has.” He watched her fingers wrap around the cup. “Volatility does that.”“I wanted to check in personally,” he continued. “There’s been… movement.”Her lashes lifted slightly. “Movement?”“Yes.” He leaned back. Relaxed. “Minor shareholders reconsid
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter 80: Hidden Trust
Mia sat cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table, laptop open, printed reports scattered around her like fallen leaves. The lamp beside the couch cast a soft amber circle around her, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. Chris had long since loosened his tie. Derek had gone home hours ago.But she couldn’t stop.The numbers were familiar. She had built this company from nothing but audacity and insomnia. Every expansion, every acquisition , every calculated risk.She knew its pulse.Which is why something felt wrong.Her fingers hovered over the trackpad. She scrolled back.Again.There was a block, dormant.Her breath stilled.Chris was at the kitchen counter behind her, sleeves rolled up, watching without appearing to. He’d been pretending to read emails for the last twenty minutes.“What are you hunting?” he asked quietly.She didn’t answer at first.Just leaned closer to the screen.The glow lit her face from below, sharpening her cheekbones, hollowing her eyes. She loo
The Billionaire’s Regret: Too Late to Love Chapter 79: Another Consultant
The boardroom smelled of polished wood, lingering coffee, and faint tension. Chris adjusted his tie without thinking, eyes skimming the spreadsheets projected on the wall. Derek sat beside him, shoulders rigid, hands clasped, watching Allen like a hawk. Allen’s presence filled the space. Lean, precise, his voice controlled—but there was an edge, a restless energy beneath the calm. Every movement, every pause, every subtle glance seemed like a test. Chris tilted his head, glancing at Derek, but said nothing. He had learned long ago that caution was louder than speech. Allen’s voice broke the quiet. “Chris… your take on these projections. You seem… too calm.” Chris didn’t flinch. “Calm is necessary when the risk is visible. Overreaction would be premature.” Allen’s eyes narrowed. “You’re… calculated.” Chris let the word hang. “I prefer precision.” Allen leaned back, fingers steepled, lips pressed tight. “I don’t like surprises. I prefer certainty. And yet…” He waved vaguely at th
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