All Chapters of The Arrogant Billionaire's Redemption: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The empty street stretched out before me as I rounded the bend, still and wide under the fading evening light. Only the occasional school child dotted the path, their tiny figures dragging backpacks almost as big as themselves. Their footsteps echoed faintly, bouncing off shuttered storefronts and weathered walls. I exhaled, long and relieved. Whew, thank goodness. Relief came not just from the quietness of the street, but from the absence of the one person who had been gnawing at my thoughts all day. My steps quickened toward Ajax, who stood waiting with impatient energy. “He’s not there,” I said, more firmly than I felt. Ajax frowned. “But he—” “He’s not there, Ajax. I’ve checked.” My hand closed around his small fingers, tugging him gently forward, ignoring his pouting face. Inside, my thoughts were less steady. Imagine… seeing Adam here. What would I even say? How would I explain what he was doing here? No matter the words I might try to conjure, every path of reasoning seeme

It would be best if Miss Tina goes. My eyes turned instantly toward the person who had dared to voice those words, and I fixed them with a stare so sharp it might have burned right through. I was certain everyone had been thinking the same thing, but the fool who said it aloud was simply unlucky enough to be the one who got caught. Annoyance surged through me, anger wrapping hot around my chest, hardening my gaze. The man faltered beneath it, stumbling back a step before averting his eyes. Coward. I turned back to the rest of the group. They sat in uneasy silence, but their faces told the story well enough. Pitiful expressions, lips pressed thin, gazes dropped to desks or papers or anything that wasn’t me. They agreed with him. The betrayal pricked deep, sharp enough that I nearly flared at them all at once. Why do I even feel betrayed? The thought cut across my anger. These were the same coworkers who, not too long ago, had whispered cruel things about me. The same ones who had

Simon's POV Wednesday morning should have been perfect. For once, I woke with a good mood, sunlight spilling across the cheap hotel blinds and warming my face. The merger was running smoother than I’d dared hope, and I could almost taste the relief of it being wrapped up soon. I allowed myself a small smile, a luxury I rarely indulged in. But my mood plummeted the moment I switched on the TV. The news anchor’s words dripped into the quiet room like acid, bold headlines flashing across the screen. Search. Seizure. Investigation. Words I wasn’t supposed to be hearing — at least not from a morning broadcast. My chest tightened. The air in the hotel room felt suddenly too thin, too heavy with wood polish and dust. I grabbed my phone and dialed the SM legal team. My thumb tapped restlessly against the screen, my jaw locking tighter with every unanswered ring. Once, twice, three times. Still no answer. A sharp exhale hissed out of me. Then I remembered: it was barely past seven. T

‘Did someone kidnap Simon and replace him with a look-alike?’ I darted out of his office as quickly as possible, eager to get away from this calm-looking impostor. The smile he had sent me unnerved me the most. That smile—it didn’t belong to the Simon I knew. The one I knew wielded silence like a blade, and scowls like currency. Yet here he was, wearing an expression that made my skin crawl. The door banging shut behind me resounded through the hallway, but the sound didn’t even register in my mind until much later. I moved on robotic legs, steps stilted as I shuffled toward the elevator. When the doors slid open, I stepped in without hesitation. But as the elevator doors began to close, my gaze—traitorous as always—snapped back toward his office. The sight of that door made me flinch involuntarily, as though it might open and reveal him standing there with that smile again. During the ride to my floor, I couldn’t shake it. His smile. It clung to me like smoke, curling into my thoug

“Say something,” my mind urged me as we burst out of the narrow alley between two looming buildings, spilling onto a desolate street that felt too quiet, too empty for comfort. I huddled deeper into my hoodie, my head bent low. Wouldn’t want anyone to see Simon Valero pulling my hand like this. The thought alone made my stomach tighten. Just imagining the headlines that would bloom from such a scandal had me trying to snatch my hand away from his grip. But his hold was vice-like—unyielding—and my futile resistance only earned me a sharp glance. His lips pressed into a thin line, his nostrils flaring in a way that told me his patience was already running out. He clicked his tongue in irritation, the sound slicing through the silence, and faced forward again, continuing to drag me along as though I were a stubborn child refusing to move. The heat rose to my face. Humiliation, frustration—both burned through me. Then, as though my struggle had finally registered, his grip slackened s