บททั้งหมดของ One Night Stand With Mr. President: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

EmiliaI stared at Trevor as he spoke, his voice just barely above a whisper, like someone might be eavesdropping from across the street.“They’re good, Emilia,” he said, eyes flicking to the window again. “Really good. I mean… if they could plant fake money transfers into the Kane Group’s private internal system not just basic stuff, I’m talking deep-dive records, they could literally tear this company apart from the inside.”I held my coffee cup, fingers wrapped tightly around it, letting the warmth seep into my hands as I watched him.“So, they faked all those transactions, is that even possible?” I asked, my voice calm, but my pulse kicking up a notch.He nodded, biting his lower lip like it might hold his nerves together. “It’s not even just faking. They made it look like it had always been there. Same timestamps, same admin log IDs. I had to go way back in the system logs, like really dig, to even notice something was off.”“And no one else caught it?”Trevor shook his head. “No

Emilia’s POVI leaned in toward Trevor again, a tight smile on my face, even though my heart was beating faster than it should. “Okay, don’t freak out,” I whispered calmly, my fingers still wrapped around my warm coffee cup.He stiffened. “Why would I freak out?” he asked, his eyes narrowing instantly.I kept my eyes on his, holding his gaze so he wouldn’t glance around and alert whoever was watching us. “Because… we’ve got two shadows.”Trevor paled a little, then shifted slightly in his seat. “What do you mean, shadows?”“Don’t look back,” I said in a soft but firm voice, placing my hand lightly on his to calm him. “There’s a man by the window. Newspaper guy. Hasn’t flipped a single page since we got here. I mean, come on, who even reads newspapers anymore? And the woman across the street, she’s pretending to wait for a bus that already came by three times.”He swallowed hard. “Oh my God.”“Trevor,” I warned. “Do not freak out.”“I’m not freaking out!” he whisper-yelled.“Then stop l

Emilia’s POVThe conference room was packed. Rows upon rows of employees sat with stiff backs and fake interested faces, the buzz of murmurs still lingering like smoke after a fire. I heard my name whispered again, felt the subtle shift in attention as soon as I stepped inside, heels clicking against the polished floor. Eyes were everywhere, curious, judgmental, uncertain.I didn’t flinch. I didn’t frown. I lifted my chin, let my eyes sweep across the room like I owned every inch of it. And in a way, I did. Not by title, but by everything I’d stood through, fought through, for this company and for Richard.I walked slowly to the front, to the center of the room where the podium waited like a spotlight. 500 pairs of eyes. Not a single one made me pause.I took my time placing my palms on the wood, grounding myself. The room quieted almost instantly.“Thank you for coming,” I began, my voice steady but sharp enough to cut through the air. “I know some of you were probably in the middle o

Jayden's POVI walked through the corridor like a ghost floating in a sea of whispers. My shoes made soft, measured sounds against the tiled floor, but it was the echo in my head that was louder, Richard's voice, that damn smile on his face, and Emilia... God, Emilia.The image of her throwing herself at him, like he was her hero or something, played on a loop in my mind. The way she smiled, the way she kissed him without hesitation, like I never existed. Like all those years we spent together meant absolutely nothing.I clenched my jaw, forcing my hands into my pockets to keep from punching the nearest wall. But no, not now. Not here. Not when eyes were everywhere."Yo, Turner."I turned my head slightly and spotted one of the younger interns, Derek or Daniel, whatever his name was, standing too close for my liking, his arms folded as he leaned by the water cooler."You good, man? You look like you just saw a ghost."I gave him a cold smile. "You ever get the urge to chew glass, Derek

Richard’s POVThe soft clink of the glass echoed slightly as I placed it gently on the polished counter of the grand piano. My fingers moved across the keys again, slow and steady, as if the melody could pull all the lingering weight from my shoulders. The room was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of the chandelier and the occasional flicker from the fireplace in the corner. The warmth inside contrasted with the chill whispering against the windowpanes.I wasn’t playing anything specific. Just something that came to me. Something quiet, gentle, almost melancholic. My fingers danced slowly, thoughtfully, like each note had its own memory attached to it. The wine, aged and bold, coated my tongue, and the music calmed my mind.Alone.That was rare these days, and maybe that’s why I was savoring it.Emilia was upstairs. Probably curled up beneath the covers, fast asleep. She’d had a long day. Long week, really. Pregnancy wasn’t easy, and I admired her more with each passing day for how