All Chapters of IT'S A JOB, NOT A RELATIONSHIP, MR. BILLIONAIRE : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

NATHAN'S POVThe restaurant was unusually quiet that morning. The soft hum of the refrigerators, the gentle clang of cutlery, and the faint whirr of the coffee grinder formed a comforting symphony. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t empty—just peaceful. But my mind wasn’t. I had too much going on, and though I was here physically, a part of me was still at Isla’s place, wondering if she had managed to get some rest after everything that happened the night before.The move-in plans were slowly coming together, but like every major decision, there were undercurrents—emotions, fears, and expectations. I had wanted this. To wake up beside Isla, to see Hope every morning, to build something that felt like a real family. But now that it was becoming a reality, I realized how heavy the responsibility felt. Not because I didn’t want it, but because I wanted to get it right. For Isla. For Hope. For us."You look like your coffee's not working," Marco said, sliding a steaming mug toward me

NATHAN'S POV The scent of rosemary and charred oak clung to the air as I stepped into Ember Table, my restaurant. The evening rush hadn’t started yet, but the quiet hum of the kitchen always stirred something alive in me. The steady rhythm of blades chopping vegetables, the hiss of meat meeting iron pans, and the distant laughter of my staff—it all grounded me. This place wasn’t just my passion. It was my escape, my identity, my second chance at peace.And yet, today felt different.Elizabeth, my head server and the closest thing I had to a sister in this place, met me halfway through the main hallway with a clipboard in hand and a look on her face that told me trouble had walked in with the sunlight."We've got a situation," she said, her brows pinched together. "There's a woman here. Claims she knows you. She's been asking a lot of questions."I blinked. "What kind of questions?""The personal kind. About the restaurant. About you. About Isla."My grip on the clipboard tightened. I

ISLA'S POVTitan Holdings was supposed to be my sanctuary—a place where I found purpose and drive. But lately, it felt like the walls were closing in. The chaos with Lucas had barely settled, yet something new was beginning to fester underneath the polished surface of our corporate world. There was tension in the air, the kind that you couldn’t explain, but you could feel deep in your bones. And I wasn’t the only one noticing it.It all started on a Monday morning when I walked into the design department and noticed something strange—three of my best interns had been reassigned without my knowledge. No warning, no heads-up. Just a vague note from Human Resources citing “departmental restructuring.” It made no sense. My team was in the middle of one of the company’s biggest design launches, and losing key hands at this point was sabotage in slow motion.I stormed into the HR office.“This is unacceptable,” I snapped. “You don’t just move my people in the middle of a project.”The HR re

ISLA'S POVIt started as a typical Monday at Titan Holdings, but something in the air felt off.My heels clicked sharply across the marble floors as I walked into the design wing, coffee in hand and my bag slung over my shoulder. I was early, hoping for some quiet time to review the final mockups for the Milan collaboration. But as I entered my office, I stopped dead in my tracks.My chair was turned. My desk, usually pristine, had a file opened on top of it. I narrowed my eyes.No one had access to my files—not unless I granted it.I set my coffee down slowly, checking the file."This isn’t mine," I murmured.Inside were design sketches—not in my hand—but shockingly similar to mine. It was a new line. Something edgy, bold, futuristic. And yet I hadn’t touched this concept."Who put this here?" I whispered to myself.Before I could think too much about it, there was a knock at my open door."Morning, Isla," said Zara, my assistant designer. She stepped in with her usual red lipstick a

ISLA'S POVThe rain started pouring just as I stepped out of the conference room. Thunder cracked above Titan Holdings, and I couldn't help but think how fitting it was. The storm outside mirrored the one brewing inside the company—inside me.It had been a long day. Deadlines, board members breathing down my neck, and whispers in the hallway that someone was leaking project details to a rival firm. I should have brushed it off as typical corporate paranoia, but deep down, something didn't feel right.My phone buzzed. A text from Elizabeth: "Check your email. Now."I walked briskly back to my office, my heels clicking against the marble floors. Once inside, I shut the door and opened my laptop. The email was there. No subject line. Just an attachment.I clicked on it.My breath caught.It was a screenshot of an internal presentation—my design. The one for the upcoming Titan-X fashion technology launch. A design I hadn't even shown my team yet. And there it was, labeled under another na