บททั้งหมดของ The Lost Billionaire’s Lover : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

LENA'S POV The cold air hit my face as I stepped out of the house, my anger still pulsing like a living thing inside me. My grandfather’s words rang in my ears—his smug certainty, his absolute belief that I would submit to his will. I wouldn’t. I would win this battle. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat and walked briskly down the street, my mind replaying the conversation over and over. The thought of marrying Harlin Cartwright made my stomach turn. A business arrangement, a deal sealed without my consent, as if I were some asset to be traded. Not me. The streets of Hudsonville were mostly quiet, the occasional car passing by, the glow of streetlights casting long shadows. I had no particular destination, only a need to be anywhere but home. I needed to clear my head, drown my resentment in something stronger than rage. And I knew exactly where to go. The Black Rose sat on the edge of downtown, tucked between two aging brick buildings. A neon sign flicker

LENA'S POV Coincidence. That was what any rational person would call this. But I wasn’t naive enough to believe in coincidences. Not when it came to my family. Not when it came to the life I had been forced into, the expectations that had been placed upon me like a noose around my neck. Kian Davenport had been missing for five years. He had been presumed dead. And yet, here he was, standing among Hudsonville’s elite, pretending not to know me. My fingers curled into a tight fist at my side, nails digging into my palm. This wasn’t just chance. It wasn’t fate. It was deliberate. And I was going to find out why. The weight of the gala felt suffocating now. The chandeliers, the laughter, the constant murmur of business deals and empty pleasantries—it all blurred into a meaningless backdrop. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in a mess of unanswered questions, uncertainty, and something that felt a lot like betrayal. I needed to leave. I needed fresh air. I needed— A co

LENA'S POV The next morning, I arrived at Whitmore Enterprises earlier than usual, hoping that immersing myself in work would silence the thoughts that had plagued me all night. It didn’t. I stood in my office, overlooking the skyline of Hudsonville, the city stretching out before me in a sprawling maze of glass and steel. This empire, built over generations, was mine now. I had inherited it—the power, the responsibility, the expectations. Well not total inheritance. Let say the rest is for “my husband” after marriage, as dad stated in his will, an attempt to protect his heir and secure his linage. And yet, despite everything I had achieved, the only thing my family cared about was whether I would marry a man I didn’t love to "secure our legacy." I sighed, rubbing my temples. I should have been thinking about today’s board meeting, or the upcoming merger deal that would expand our influence across international markets. Instead, all I could think about was Kian. I turned

LENA'S POV The morning hum of Whitmore Enterprises was as relentless as ever—keyboards clattered in perfect rhythm, phones rang with urgency, and the hushed yet hurried voices of employees filled the air as they moved between departments, carrying out their carefully orchestrated routines. He revolving doors of Whitmore Enterprises exhaled a frost-kissed breath as I stepped through them, Manhattan’s February bite clinging to my wool coat like a jealous lover. Inside, the air tasted of sterilized ambition—lemon polish and freshly ground Ethiopian coffee, the perfume of corporate gods. My Louboutins clicked a staccato rhythm across marble floors as employees parted before me like the Red Sea, their murmured ”Good morning, Miss Whitmore” dissolving into the hum of ringing phones and humming printers. This temple of steel and glass answered to my commands now, every gleaming surface and whispered rumor bending to the weight of a name etched in generational wealth. My empire. The

LENA'S POV The Price of The office had settled into its usual rhythm—calls being made, deals being closed, and employees moving like well-oiled machinery. But I barely registered any of it. Not after what I had just seen. Not after Kian. I sat in my chair, staring blankly at my computer screen, my mind still reeling from the sight of him on that stage, accepting an award for being an "upcoming" entrepreneur. Kian, who had once been a multi-billionaire, now being presented as if he were just getting started? Nothing about it made sense. Had he lost everything? Had he been playing a role? Or worse… Had he deliberately erased his past? A sharp vibration against my desk pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. I glanced at my phone, my stomach clenching the moment I saw the name flashing across the screen. Grandfather. I sighed, rubbing my temple. I had a feeling I knew exactly what this was about. After a brief moment of hesitation, I pressed accept an