All Chapters of The Arrogant Billionaire's Redemption: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

A buzz rippled through the hall as Simon’s retreating form disappeared through the glass doors. “The idiot—he successfully put a bounty on my head,” I muttered, though the words tasted bitter even in my mouth. The hum of whispers spread like wildfire. Faces turned toward me, eyes widening, some in disbelief, some in something far crueler: curiosity. They were probably wondering how someone as insignificant as me had managed to draw the full, focused attention of Simon Valero. I took in the look of shock frozen on Miss Debra’s face and almost pitied her. She looked like she wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole. For a moment, I wanted to tell her she’d gotten it all wrong—just to put her out of her misery. “He probably wants me to pack my bags and leave quietly,” I wanted to shout at them all, to break through the suffocating silence that clung to me like a shroud. “Miss Tina,” Debra finally found her voice, though it cracked like glass. “What are you waiting for? Shouldn’

Walking through the glassy entrance of Trove sent a shiver through me that I couldn’t quite shake. The building itself gleamed with ambition, its marble floors and polished chrome reflecting the kind of perfection that made one feel both small and exposed. Yet, beneath the superficial awe, something else rippled through me—frustration, dread, and an almost childish irritation. Because Simon was here. That fact alone was enough to sour the air I breathed. Just knowing he existed in the same space as me, walking these same halls, breathing the same conditioned air, was enough to knot my stomach. He was out there somewhere in this building, with his granite stare and cutting silence, and at any moment, I might turn a corner and crash into him. The thought alone was unbearable. I scanned the lobby once. Twice. My eyes combed the streams of people in sleek suits, hunting for that stone-carved face. Relief only came when I saw no trace of him, though it was weak relief at best. The eleva

“Mum,” he whispered suddenly, tugging at my sleeve. “That man looks familiar. I think I know him.” Ice washed over me instantly. I turned to Adam, whose brow furrowed, lips pursed in thought. He glanced back up at the screen. “That’s my boss,” I said at last, keeping my voice casual. “You’ve not met him before.” Ajax frowned, studying the face flickering across the screen with the same intensity I had once studied a textbook I was determined not to fail. The news anchor shifted, the camera cut, and the image disappeared. He shrugged, his childish shoulders rolling with the ease of someone who had already decided the thought was not worth the effort. “Guess not,” he muttered, and dug into his plate again. I lowered my gaze to my own food, stabbing at it without appetite. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him eat steadily, watched the momentary suspicion dissolve as quickly as it had come. Relief barely had time to bloom in my chest before the other thought struck me: it would

Simon's POV You could almost hear my teeth grind from the hard set of my jaw as I walked back to my office. The gall of that woman—privately dissing me, even among a group of people. My mind replayed the scene, dragging me back to her eyes fixed on mine as the sarcastic words slipped past her lips. Those eyes—watching me, baiting me, reveling in the smallest flicker of reaction she managed to draw from me. I cursed myself for giving her that satisfaction. For one weak, impulsive second, I had confirmed every unspoken meaning in her words. By the time I reached my office, the pressure in my chest was unbearable. I dragged my hands through my hair, pacing the room in slow, agitated strides. My thoughts spiraled back to the true source of all this unrest. Why now? Why did she leave me open to humiliation at the hands of this insufferable woman? I yanked my phone from my pocket and lifted it to eye level, staring at the blank screen as though a message might finally appear. Nothin

The walk back to my department was more torturous than the walk away from it, like I was trudging uphill through air that turned to glass. Resolve hardens in my chest—fine, I’ll become a block of ice. If indifference is the language, I’ll get fluent. If cold is the armor, I’ll wear it until it fuses to my bones. It shouldn’t be that hard, I told myself. I perfected the art of smiling through pain as a kid; swapping a bright, unflinching smile for a straight, unreadable face should be nothing. A pivot. A small death of expression. And yet my head reeled the second I replayed him dismissing me without so much as a full glance. The casual cruelty of it, the ease. How did he do it—disengage like that, cut with silence sharper than words? My thoughts stop their ragged spinning only when they settled on Mr. Wright. The man was a study in contrast: calm where Simon was cutting, composed where Simon was calcified. The middle-aged shadow who ran an empire’s backstage with quiet hands—and trea