Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Final Goodbye : Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

Alex didn’t answer James, but the look on his face said everything — cold, resolute, unshakable. His silence was louder than any words.James stared at him, disbelief written all over his face. “No, no, man… you can’t possibly consider that!” he said, stepping closer. His tone was almost pleading now. “Alex, listen to me. The company is already hanging by a thread. Our stock has fallen by over thirty percent in just one week, and it’s still dropping. If you go through with this divorce right now and it leaks to the press, it’ll be the final blow. Spencer Group won’t survive it.”Alex remained calm, staring into his half-empty whiskey glass. For a moment, James thought his words were getting through. The tension in the room softened slightly, and Alex’s shoulders eased as though he was considering his friend’s advice.James took a deep breath of relief and moved closer. “Please, just think this through. You can’t fix one pain by breaking everything else you built.”But just then, A

The drive was unusually quiet. The wind outside howled against the moving car, yet inside, the silence was louder. Emilia stared out the window, her thoughts far from the world passing by. The lights from other cars flashed across her face, revealing how tense she looked.James glanced at her from the driver’s seat. The silence between them felt heavier than any argument they had ever had. He tried to smile, hoping to ease it. “Babe,” he said softly, his voice careful. “Are you okay?”No response.He reached for her hand with one free hand while the other stayed on the wheel, but she gently removed his fingers. “Just focus on the road, James,” she said coldly. “Don’t get us killed.”That tone, sharp, distant, stabbed deeper than any insult could. James sighed quietly, turning his eyes back to the road. He got it now. She was angry, not just angry, hurt. He swallowed hard, guilt creeping into his chest.“I’m sorry for what I did today,” he began after a few seconds. “I know we agre

Saturday mornings were usually calm, a day the world slowed a little to catch its breath. But not this one. The television screens across the country buzzed with a single headline: “Alex Spencer and Wife Finalize Shocking Divorce — Spencer Group in Crisis.”On Global Business Network (GBN), the anchors sat in their elegant studio, faces solemn yet intrigued. The segment was titled Corporate Scandals: When Love Breaks the Ledger.“Public reaction has been massive,” said the male anchor, flipping through his notes. “The divorce between billionaire Alex Spencer and his wife Eva has gone viral, trending across all platforms for the past twenty-four hours. Some sympathize with Mr. Spencer, others think this is karma for years of questionable corporate dealings.”His co-host, a woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tone, adjusted her mic. “Beyond the drama,” she said, “what concerns analysts is how this scandal is bleeding into Spencer Group’s stability. Stocks have dropped nearly for

The silence in Alex’s office was heavy enough to crush him. He had been pacing from the window to the door and back again for almost ten minutes, his thoughts scattered, his chest tightening with every step. He stopped once, staring at the framed photo of his father on the wall — that proud smile, the same office, the same view.“Is this how it ends?” he muttered. His reflection in the glass window looked like a stranger. “Is this how Spencer Group dies?”He cursed under his breath and walked back to his desk. The bottle of whiskey sat there, half-empty, almost mocking him. He poured himself a glass and swallowed it in one gulp. The burn down his throat felt like punishment or maybe relief. He sank into his chair, elbows on the armrest, head heavy with regret and rage.Then, the door creaked open.James walked in slowly. No greeting. No expression. His face was blank, his shoulders tense. He shut the door behind him gently, walked straight to the desk, and pulled an envelope from h

The Cooper mansion glowed that evening — lights glimmering across the long driveway, the soft hum of music drifting from the main hall, and laughter echoing from every corner. It was Adaobi’s birthday, and Amara had made sure everything looked perfect. Guests had begun to arrive, their voices rising above the rhythm of the music. Adaobi, bright and graceful, was surrounded by her friends, their laughter blending into the cheerful chaos of celebration.But outside, away from the laughter, Amara stood by the garden rail, her phone pressed to her ear again. The call went straight to voicemail. Martins’ number had been unreachable for hours. Her heartbeat grew heavier with each failed attempt. Earlier, she’d called his secretary, the woman had said he left the office around 4 p.m., cheerful, carrying his briefcase as usual. That was the last anyone saw of him.Now it was 6:40 p.m. The party had begun, and still no word from him. The lights, the laughter, the music — none of it seemed