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Chapter 58 : While The Roses Bloomed
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2026-05-12 18:45:00Morning arrived softly over Emma Laurent’s house.
Sunlight filtered through the trees lining the backyard, spilling gold across the stone pathway leading into the garden. Fresh white roses bloomed along the fence while lavender swayed gently in the breeze. Tiny droplets still clung to the petals from where Emma had already passed through once with the watering can in her hand. The world looked deceptively peaceful. Anyone looking at her now would never
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Emma Laurent slept terribly. Not dramatically. No crying. No tragic pacing through her house while rain hit the windows and orchestral music played in the background of her emotional collapse. Just— restless. The kind where exhaustion settled behind her eyes while her brain refused to cooperate anyway. Because every time she closed her eyes— she saw Rowan. Rain dripping from dark hair. His hand against her waist. The way he had looked at her before kissing her cheek like it had taken actual restraint not to do more. Which felt unreasonable. It had been a cheek kiss. Technically innocent. Unfortunately her nervous system appeared unconvinced. Emma turned over with a frustrated groan before checking the time again. 2:17 AM. Fantastic. Her house remained quiet a
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Emma Laurent had changed outfits four times already. Which was absurd. She knew it was absurd. And yet somehow she still stood in front of her bedroom mirror staring critically at a black dress she had previously loved thirty minutes ago. Now it suddenly looked too formal. Before that, the green one had looked too soft. The blue one had apparently made her resemble “someone attending a diplomatic funeral.” According to Maya. Who was currently laughing at her through video call alongside Stephanie. “You changed again,” Maya accused immediately. Emma adjusted the sleeve of her dress defensively. “I’m refining options.” “You’re panicking,” Stephanie corrected calmly from the other side of the screen. Emma narrowed her eyes. “I invited neither of you into this emotio
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Rain slid steadily across the glass walls of the conference room while Emma stared at the illuminated skyline beyond Blackwoods Holdings. Most of the executive floor had emptied over an hour ago. Only scattered office lights remained now, glowing softly across the building while assistants somewhere down the corridor finished reports that probably should have waited until morning. Emma should have gone home too. Instead, she sat surrounded by Whitmore restructuring files, cold coffee, and the growing realization that her entire life had somehow become international financial news. Disturbing development. She rubbed tiredly beneath one eye before forcing herself toward another page of revised projections. Halfway through the report— her phone vibrated against the table. Unknown international number. Emma frowned sl
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Dominic Sterling had spent years building a reputation powerful enough to survive almost anything. Scandals. Competitors. Market crashes. Fear. Especially fear. Fear kept executives obedient, investors loyal, and competitors careful. For years, Dominic had controlled every room he entered simply because people feared what happened when he lost patience. Which was exactly why the atmosphere inside Sterling Global’s boardroom felt so volatile now. Whitmore Industries had walked away. Not publicly. Not emotionally. Not even dramatically. They had simply ended negotiations and transferred the partnership to Blackwoods Holdings as though Sterling Global no longer deserved consideration. Cold blue market projections glowed across the conference room screens while executives sat rigidly around the table
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Dominic Sterling had lost Whitmore. The realization settled over the Sterling Global boardroom like smoke after an explosion. Heavy. Impossible to ignore. Nobody spoke immediately after the call disconnected. The massive projection screen still displayed the Whitmore Industries insignia against a dark background while executives sat frozen around the conference table pretending not to look directly at Dominic Sterling. Because everyone in the room understood what had just happened. Whitmore hadn’t negotiated. Hadn’t argued. Hadn’t even entertained discussion. They had simply left. One senior executive finally cleared his throat carefully. “Perhaps we can still recover portions of the European sector if we move quickly—” The crystal glass in Dominic’s hand shattered violently against the wall before he even finished speaki
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