All Chapters of The One He Chose: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Harold Walker stood before the window of his suite, the streets were already alive—vendors arranging their stalls with baskets of bread and flowers, black sedans queuing along the curbs, the clatter of scooters weaving between them. The domes and spires caught the light, glowing in the sky like watchful sentinels.And still, for all the promise, Harold felt none of it.He pressed his palm flat, exhaling until fog spread the surface. What am I doing?The conference was only hours away. In a matter of time, he and Henry would step into a hall brimming with power: Alphas and billionaires, tycoons and ministers, leaders whose words could redirect the course of entire nations. Contracts worth fortunes would be signed, reputations either to a shine or shattered beyond repair.And Henry—Henry, who had once walked into Harold’s office with little more than a worn suit and haunted eyes—would be at the center of it all.That thought alone should have filled Harold with pride. It did. Yet alon

Rivals in the HallThe chandeliers burned brighter, their light shining in the marble floors of the Milan Grand Hall. Rows of seats filled, dignitaries and billionaires murmuring in their seats, their whispers colliding like a storm in waiting. Security guards flanked every door, ushers with brisk precision, and technicians whispered frantic checks into their headsets.The world was ready for the conference to begin. But before Henry could step onto that podium, two presences shifted the air in the hall, bending it to their will.Damien Dowell had came.The billionaire CEO of Dowell Enterprises seated into the chair like a man accustomed to ownership. His suit was midnight black, tailored to perfection, his tie a streak that spoke of danger and desire in equal measure. His hair was slicked back, his eyes scanning the crowd as if each the faces present existed only to applaud him. Behind him, a fleet of assistants carried portfolios, gift boxes, and cases — props in the theater of his

The silence that filled the hall was unlike any silence Henry had ever known. It wasn’t the absence of sound, but the pause of hundreds of powerful minds, billionaires moguls, alphas, leaders of industries and packs alike—listening with interest, watching and waiting for what he would say next.Henry adjusted the microphone, his heartbeat a rhythm inside his chest. For a fucking second, he remembered the boy he used to be: the boy in exile, following his mother through hostile towns, hiding from wolves and humans alike, scraping together meals with coins that barely bought bread. That boy, who had been shamed by his pack and laughed at by his peers, now stood on a stage in Milan, commanding the attention of the world’s richest and most influential men.“BUSINESS, Henry began, his voice stronger and clear now, “is not only about numbers. It’s about people. It’s about trust, vision, and the ability to make someone believe in what you are offering. You can sell products, you can sell ser

The hall was still loud with applause when Henry returned to the microphone. The energy was like a current, surging through his veins. Every eye was on him—politicians, Alphas, CEOs, media personnel—everyone waiting for what he would say next.Henry’s chest rose fast, brushing his palm against his suit jacket. He had spoken of his beginnings, of resilience, of customers, of loyalty. But now something else pressed on his heart, something more personal. Something he could not leave unspoken.He glanced sideways, and there in the front row sat Harold Walker. Tall, composed, immaculate in his suit, yet Henry knew—he always knew—that inside that exterior was a man carrying storms. Harold’s eyes met his for a second, and Henry felt the familiar pull, the weight of words unsaid between them.So he chose to speak.“There is one more truth I must share before I step down,” Henry said, drawing the room into stillness. “Because no story of mine would be complete without the man who gave me a cha

The dinner hall of the Milan Grand International shimmered with light. Every table gleamed with fine china, tall glasses filled with deep reds and golds, and dishes prepared by world-renowned chefs.But none of that was the focus tonight.The focus was on Henry.The boy who had taken the stage earlier and commanded the hearts of billionaires, Alphas, and dignitaries alike. The boy whose words still echoed in every corner of the room, making people forget their plates and their wine.And as the evening unfolded, one by one, they turned to him.“Henry,” asked a billionaire mogul from France, leaning in the long table, his accent commanding, “your words about customers being the heartbeat of business… how does one restore trust once it’s broken? My company made errors that alienated loyal clients.”Henry didn’t hesitate. His hands rested on the tablecloth, his posture straight but not stiff. His voice, clear and deliberate, carried over the loud crowd.“You cannot buy back trust with dis