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People remember!

Author: Eden
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-21 17:14:36

Benita

The boardroom was louder than usual.

Not in volume—but in presence. Every breath felt weighted. Every glance, a judgment. And at the center of it all sat Benita Bellington, spine straight, fingers interlocked on the polished mahogany table like she belonged there—even if half the people in the room were starting to question that.

She didn’t blame them. Not entirely.

The past week had shaken more than her inbox.

It had cracked something in the structure—something deeper. A belief, maybe. That doing the right thing always bore the right results. That if you vouched for someone, and believed in them publicly, the world would meet you with understanding, not fire.

But Isla had seen to that.

Now, headlines moved faster than truth. Opinions were currency. And Benita—by name, bloodline, and bold decision—was financially tethered to the man being painted as a con in a suit.

“Miss Bellington,” one of the older members of the Elders Council began, voice clipped, “we have reviewed your st
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  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   People remember!

    BenitaThe boardroom was louder than usual.Not in volume—but in presence. Every breath felt weighted. Every glance, a judgment. And at the center of it all sat Benita Bellington, spine straight, fingers interlocked on the polished mahogany table like she belonged there—even if half the people in the room were starting to question that.She didn’t blame them. Not entirely.The past week had shaken more than her inbox.It had cracked something in the structure—something deeper. A belief, maybe. That doing the right thing always bore the right results. That if you vouched for someone, and believed in them publicly, the world would meet you with understanding, not fire.But Isla had seen to that.Now, headlines moved faster than truth. Opinions were currency. And Benita—by name, bloodline, and bold decision—was financially tethered to the man being painted as a con in a suit.“Miss Bellington,” one of the older members of the Elders Council began, voice clipped, “we have reviewed your st

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   He can’t fix it, sadly

    They were using his face again.Cillian sat alone in the back office of Dawson Construction, watching the headline crawl across the muted screen like it had been waiting for him to notice: “From Felon to Fraud? The Cillian St. James Redemption Myth.”His mouth was dry. Not with fear. Not even with anger.Just exhaustion.He muted the screen, even though there was no sound playing to begin with. Then leaned forward, elbows on the desk, head in his hands.The phone buzzed once—Kent.KENT:Benita saw the article. She’s not reacting yet. Just figured you should know.Of course she saw it. She always saw it.And of course Kent knew before he did. That was the curse of having a best friend whose loyalty outpaced his caution. Lately, Kent had been orbiting too close to Benita, trying to keep the peace no one asked him to preserve. Cillian didn’t resent it. Not exactly. But the ache in his chest said otherwise.He tossed the phone across the desk. It hit the edge of a file folder and skidded

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Bad karma

    Benita’s POVBenita was used to silence.But this kind—the kind that sat heavy over every breath—was harder to get used to.Her new house in Oakland still smelled like fresh paint and unfamiliar air. No portraits on the walls. No old rugs to muffle her footsteps. Just quiet, careful decisions: neutral tones, clean countertops, glass doors. A home for someone starting over. A home for someone who wasn’t sure what to bring with her.Kent was in the kitchen, putting away the medication he’d just picked up from Belle’s pharmacist. He didn’t ask questions. Just handed her the box when he came in, glanced briefly at the embossed label, and moved on.“You could’ve had them deliver it,” she said.“I could’ve,” he replied, without looking at her. “But then I wouldn’t get to check on you. And I don’t trust hotel managers to tell me the truth when I call and ask if you’re still breathing.”Benita managed a half-smile, curling her fingers around the ceramic mug she’d been pretending to drink from

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Don’t let her win, learn to pick your allies!

    Kent’s POVThe first thing Kent noticed when he stepped into the room was how quiet it had become. Not just the kind of quiet that follows a conversation, but the kind that sinks deep into your gut, a warning.Cillian wasn’t speaking. He stood by the window of the guest suite at Sylvester’s house, arms crossed, the early evening light catching against his face like it had something to prove. He hadn’t looked at Kent since he walked in.“You read it then,” Kent said, gently closing the door behind him.Cillian didn’t answer. But the copy of the exposé sat open on the desk, still glowing on the screen. Isla’s words burned like acid across the header.“From Trauma to Tyrant: What the Public Doesn’t Know About Cillian St. James.”Kent sighed. He walked over, slow, careful like he was approaching a wounded animal. Maybe he was. “You know it’s a hit job. She’s spiraling.”Cillian’s jaw ticked. “No one spirals with a folder of sealed court documents and that many damn timestamps. She planned

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Kent wants to save him

    Benita had barely slept. By the time her car pulled into the Bellington Group’s underground garage, she wasn’t sure whether the ringing in her ears was from exhaustion or the sheer volume of Isla Hale’s name flooding every headline, tweet, and video feed.She stepped out. No red lips. No heels. Just flats and a navy shirt buttoned to the throat, sleeves pushed back like armor. This wasn’t a day to perform femininity. It was a day to keep Cillian from becoming a punchline again.The elevator doors closed, sealing her in with her reflection. She saw it then—just for a second. The girl who once studied law for fun and solved PR crises before they went viral. She missed her. She needed her.When she arrived on the 15th floor, the entire crisis team was already assembled. Three of Bellington’s senior consultants. One digital forensic analyst. Kent pacing near the window, phone to his ear, talking fast and sharp.He glanced over the moment she entered.“Good, you’re here,” he said. “I was j

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   I want this to stop

    It was raining again.Not the soft, cinematic kind that made everything feel washed and new. No. This was the kind that slapped windshields and backed up drains and turned the air into something that bit. Benita stood by the window of her hotel suite, mug of tea cooling in her hand, watching the streets of Oakland move like nothing had changed.But everything had.The exposé had dropped at 7:42 AM.By 8:00, her name was trending. Not because she’d done anything wrong—at least not publicly—but because she had vouched for him.Because she’d written that statement.Because she’d stood in front of the camera and said, I know who he is.And now Isla Hale was saying, No, you don’t.Benita hadn’t opened the full article yet. She couldn’t. Not yet. But Kent had sent a screenshot of the headline, along with just three words: Don’t spiral, please.She took a breath. The hotel room was too quiet. No radio, no phone calls, no tapping from Kent—he was probably downstairs with Syl again, trying to

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