All Chapters of My Love, My Boss: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

By the time we returned to the city, the story had already swallowed it whole.The headlines were no longer whispers or speculative corners of gossip. They had become banners. Broadcasts. Weapons.Every taxi screen flickered with it. The news tickers ran it in a loop under every anchor’s voice, slicing across the bottom of the screen like a knife too blunt to kill cleanly. Cazien’s photo—his official corporate headshot, neatly cropped and immaculately lit—had been repurposed by the media, transformed into something colder. Something accusatory. It wasn’t a mugshot, but it might as well have been. The lighting was just better.“Anonymous Whistleblower Alleges Ethical Breach in Wolfe Industries Executive Tier”“CEO’s Leave of Absence Raises Questions About Internal Cover-Up”“Sources Point to ‘Improper Intern Involvement’ as Catalyst”That last one landed like a stone dropped through my chest. It wasn’t just professional—it was per

My heels smack against the marble floor of Wolfe Industries, sharp and rhythmic, like the pounding of my own heart as I make my way to Cazien’s office. Every step feels like a countdown, a warning shot echoing inside my chest. His text had come through ten minutes ago, curt and loaded. “Get to my office now, Raina.” My heart’s been racing since, thudding so loud I swear I can feel it in my throat. I tug at my navy blouse, which is now clinging to my back like it’s become another layer of my nerves. My fingers toy with the hem of my skirt restless, fidgety and aching to touch something that isn’t there. A twist coils low in my stomach half want and half worry. I miss him, but not in the way people write about in books. This is something raw, physical. It hurts. Like every part of me is screaming for his hands, his voice, his everything. Last week, we crossed the line. In front of the entire company, no less. One kiss big, impulsive, defiant. A statement shouted between our lips in

The air outside the Wolfe estate was cold and sharp, like a knife made of wind. It smelled of pine trees and faraway places, as if the big house behind us had sighed, and the world was waiting for something to happen. The tall trees lined the narrow, twisty road, their branches reaching out like they wanted to hide it. The path stretched on, dark and unfamiliar, leading to nowhere I knew. The wind stung my cheeks, trying to wash away the chill of Margot’s icy voice, the soft tap of her knife on the table, and the way her finger pressed between my shoulder blades, like a warning dressed up as politeness. I shivered, pulling my coat tighter, but the cold wasn’t just from the air—it was from the heavy words still ringing in my ears. Back at the estate, Cazien had turned to the driver and butler, his voice firm. “Tell them not to follow us,” he said. The driver’s face scrunched in confusion, and the butler’s eyes widened, but Cazien was clear—no guards, no one else, just us. “I’ll drive,

The Wolfe estate didn’t feel like the same place anymore. It was always too perfect, with its shiny floors and tall walls, but now it felt different, like the house itself was pushing me away, closing its doors to keep me out. The air inside was heavy, like a secret nobody wanted to share. I followed Mira down a quiet hallway in the west wing, my boots soft on the thick carpet, making no sound. The walls were lined with paintings, each one looking new, their gold frames gleaming under the soft lights. The air smelled clean, like lemons and polish, sharp and cold, like a room waiting for something serious to happen. “He’s in the sunroom,” Mira said, slowing as we passed two big closed doors, their wood dark and heavy. “Margot moved his things there. She says the morning light helps him.” I frowned, my heart thumping. “Helps with what?” I asked. Mira’s voice dropped low, like a whisper. “Control,” she said. “It helps Margot control the story. She keeps him with her people, her routines

“This has call logs, money transfers, and strange details from the day Cazien disappeared after the crash,” Declan said. “Also, a hidden phone number, tied to a secret Wolfe Logistics account, was used near a private clinic two days before they said he was moved.” My heart pounded, like a drum in my chest. “You’re saying Margot hid his transfer?” I asked, my voice shaky. Declan stared at me, his messy hair falling over his eyes. “I’m saying she planned a lot that day,” he said. “I think she made up the story about his memory. Maybe even paid the doctors to help.” I sat down slowly, the chair creaking under me. “That’s a big claim,” I said, my throat tight. He leaned back in my chair, like it was his own, crumbs from his protein bar dusting his wrinkled suit. “That’s why I didn’t tell Mira yet,” he said, his voice low, like a whisper in a storm. I opened the folder, my fingers trembling on the rough paper. The proof wasn’t perfect, but it was enough—enough to ask hard questions, enou