All Chapters of The Billionaire Replaced Me With My Assistant : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Richard's POV My sanctuary in the senate, at the top of the New York skyscraper, was normally soundproof, but the specific ringtone of my work tablet managed to penetrate the barrier. It was Irina. The video call, marked as urgent, interrupted my tranquil reading of the Asian market reports. A slight annoyance stirred within me. She only used this channel for setbacks or victories. Accepting the call, Irina's impassive face filled the high-definition screen. She wasn't in her usual office. The background was dark, perhaps the inside of a car. "Master," she began, her voice as smooth as ever, but with a subtle tension beneath the surface. "An unexpected development in Chicago." I set my glass of whiskey aside, my fingers slowly closing around the arm of the chair. "I'm listening." "Morgan has been arrested. About twenty minutes ago." The air seemed to leave the room. My first reaction was pure shock, followed by a fury so intense my vision blurred for a second. My right ha

Emma's POV The physiotherapy session that morning had been very tiring.The therapist insisted on new leg exercises, and every movement hurt a lot. The nurse brought me back to bed, and I lay down, closed my eyes, and tried to forget the pain.That's when I heard my mother's voice. She had turned on the small TV in the room."Look, the news. Let's see what's happening out there," she said, with that forcedly cheerful voice she uses to distract me. She turned up the volume.I opened my eyes, not very interested. A traffic report was on. I was about to close my eyes again when the image changed.It showed the Pierce Holdings building, with many journalists at the door. The headline at the bottom of the screen made my heart stop:'PIERCE HOLDINGS MARKETING HEAD, SOPHIA MORGAN, ARRESTED FOR ILLEGAL FIREARM.'No. It couldn't be.The image changed to a shaky recording, taken at the building's entrance. And there she was. Sophia.With her hands cuffed, her face as white as a sheet, her hair

Eleanor's POV The room in my Dubai office was cool and silent, as always. From the top floor, I could see the bustling city, but inside here was my controlled world. The years of pretending to be dead had taught me to value silence and discretion. Yusuf, my head of security, entered without a sound. He was a serious and efficient man. "Ms. Morgan," he said in his calm voice. "Detective Schmidt, from the United States, is on the secure line." I nodded. Yusuf activated the speakerphone on my encrypted terminal and stayed near the door. "Speak," I said. Detective Schmidt's voice came through clearly, even from so far away. "Ms. Morgan, your suspicions were confirmed. Irina Volkov and Richard Pierce lied to you about your granddaughter's whereabouts." My fingers tightened slightly on the desk. I already suspected it, but hearing the confirmation was like a punch to the gut. It was a betrayal. "Continue," I requested, keeping my voice steady. "Your granddaughter is no

Sophia's POVAlexander.He was sitting on the other side of the glass, impeccable as always. A navy blue suit, a white shirt, a silk tie. Even his hair was perfect. But his eyes... his eyes had a shadow I had never seen before.My hands started to tremble. I picked up the phone with difficulty."Alex... Alexander," my voice came out hoarse and weak.He picked up the phone on his side. "Sophia." His way of speaking was soft, as if we were in a fancy restaurant, not a prison. "Are you okay?"A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "I'm great, Alexander. I just loved spending two days here. Did Victoria send her regards?"His face turned serious. "Victoria has nothing to do with this. I came as soon as I heard. I paid for a private jet to get here faster.""What a generous man," I replied, venom in my voice. "Did you come to see your handiwork up close?"He shook his head, as if disappointed. "Why do you always think the worst of me? I am genuinely worried. This is a nightmare, and I can make it

Sophia's POV The light outside the prison hurt my eyes. It hurt in a good way, a real way. I took a deep breath, pulling the Chicago air into my lungs as if for the first time. It didn't smell of disinfectant. It didn't smell of despair. It smelled of freedom. And then I saw him. Michael was standing by his car, a little away from the entrance, his hands shoved in his pockets, his face a mask of worry and hope. When our eyes met, something snapped inside me. All the fear, all the coldness I had forged to survive those 48 hours, melted away. I started running. Or maybe he did. I don't know. Suddenly, we were in each other's arms, and the world disappeared. "Michael," I whispered, my voice muffled by his coat. My hands gripped his back, my fingers digging into the fabric, trying to make sure he was real, that this was real. His arms wrapped around me with a strength that almost broke me in half. I felt his face buried in my hair, his warm breath against my neck. "Love,