บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire’s Regret After His Daughter Died: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

Elara's POVCecile's face lingered in my mind, pale but determined, trying so hard to be strong for us despite her illness.My fingers felt stiff and cold as I held my phone, staring at Liam's message."Ready when you are."The words seemed to pulse on the screen, waiting for my response.All I could see was Cecile's hopeful expression when she asked about Lily.My thumb hovered over the phone's keyboard, ready to type the signal that would set everything in motion.But I couldn't do it.Not with Cecile watching. Not when she had three months left to live and believed she was witnessing the fairy tale ending she'd always wanted for me.I looked up at the crowd of confused guests, then at the technicians still working frantically at the control booth, then at Damien who was watching the chaos with growing concern.Slowly, deliberately, I caught Liam’s eye and drew one finger across my throat.Stop. Not now.He looked confused for a moment, but then nodded and stepped back from the contr

Elara's POVMy heart leaped into my throat. His mother, something had happened to his mother.I quickly stepped out of the bathtub, water dripping everywhere as I reached for a robe. Despite everything that had happened between Damien and me, his mother had always been kind to me.When we'd married six years ago, she hadn't approved of the hasty wedding or the circumstances surrounding it.But she'd still welcomed me into the family with grace, giving me a set of antique pearl jewelry that had belonged to her own mother."Is she alright?" I whispered urgently, trying not to interrupt his conversation while frantically searching for something to wear.She lived in France now, had remarried a distinguished diplomat and moved to Paris shortly after our wedding.The thought of her being hurt or in danger in a foreign country made my chest tighten with worry.But as I listened to Damien's side of the conversation, I realized something was wrong with my assumption."What do you mean, do I kn

Elara's POVI stared at Isabella's text message, knowing I shouldn't open whatever she had sent me.After all, if we were measuring by wealth and status alone, I was now the clear winner in this competition.The stock transfers, the Beverly Hills estate, Cecile's inheritance—I had everything a woman could want from a marriage to a billionaire.But curiosity was a dangerous thing.I couldn't resist finding out what Isabella thought she could possibly send me now that would have any impact.I opened the message. Two attachments. My blood ran cold.The first was a photograph of an enormous bouquet of red roses - not the elegant arrangements from our wedding, but something much more elaborate and expensive.The second was a picture of a ring that made my wedding diamond look modest by comparison.It was a pink diamond, easily twice the size of the stone currently on my finger, set in what looked like platinum with smaller diamonds creating an intricate halo design.The accompanying text ma

Elara's POVMy head throbbed.When consciousness slowly returned to me, the second thing I noticed was that my hands and feet were bound tightly to a metal chair with rough rope that chafed against my wrists.I was in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.The air was thick with mold, rust, and the sharp chemical tang of gasoline.As my vision cleared, I could see three figures standing in front of me, all wearing black ski masks that obscured their faces completely.Behind them, various pieces of equipment were scattered across a makeshift table - including my laptop, which one of them must have taken from my purse."Good, you're awake," said the tallest of the three, his voice a low gravel. "We were starting to think we'd used too much chloroform."He stepped forward and slammed my laptop down on the table with enough force to make me wince."Here's what's going to happen," he continued, his tone businesslike despite the threatening circumstances. "You're going to write out the

Elara's POVHe was a silhouette against the blinding headlights. A man in a tailored black coat, absurdly out of place in this dusty, abandoned warehouse.Damien stepped through the destroyed entrance without hurry, without visible weapons, without backup of any kind.His Italian leather shoes clicked against the concrete floor with the same measured rhythm I'd heard him use walking into hostile board meetings.He was calm. Controlled. Fearless.His sheer presence seemed to freeze my captors in place.They raised their weapons with shaking hands, fingers hovering over triggers, but something about him made them hesitate.This was a man who commanded Fortune 500 companies, who could destroy entire industries with a phone call, who wielded power that most people couldn't even comprehend.And he had walked into this warehouse like he owned it.His gray eyes swept the scene with calculating precision, taking in every detail with the same methodical assessment he brought to corporate acqui