All Chapters of The Billionaire's Hidden Obsession : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Clara’s POVZara’s days off were special. Not because she rested; Zara never knew how to rest. Those were the days we discussed everything but work, men, and stress. At least, that was the plan. That morning, I woke up later than usual. The sunlight was already spreading across my curtains as if it had nowhere else to be. For the first time in weeks, my body didn’t feel like it was bracing for impact. No alarm. No rushing. No Elias Cole looming over my thoughts before I even brushed my teeth. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling and listening to the quiet. It felt… unfamiliar. My phone buzzed. Zara: If you’re not up by now, I’m calling your landlord to disconnect your light. I smiled. Me: Try it. I’ll tell him you’re the devil. She replied with five laughing messages and a voice note. “Get dressed. We’re going out. No excuses. If you mention work, I’ll bill you.” We met at a small café tucked between a bookstore and a nail salon. It wasn’t fancy, but the chairs we

Elias pov My father's words stayed with me after he left the office. They felt unfinished, sharp, and patient. Don’t lose a good woman because of pride. He hadn’t raised his voice, threatened, or accused me. That made his advice dangerous. A man like him never spoke casually. His words were heavy with history I never asked for but still carried. I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself he was wrong. But when I sat alone after he left, the silence felt different—thicker. It was as if the walls were listening, waiting for me to crack. I loosened my tie, then tightened it again. Control. That had always been the answer. I opened my laptop and threw myself into work with an almost punishing focus. Emails, reports, numbers that made sense, deadlines that followed logic. I corrected things that didn’t need correcting just to find some order. Still, my mind wandered, not to Clara’s face but to her absence. She hadn’t come back to my office. No unnecessary updates. No soft knocks. No qu

Clara’s pov I didn’t know a sentence could change me until Elias said it. “Do you know Adrian is married?” At first, I thought I’d misunderstood him. His words felt strange, as if they came from another conversation, another place. My mind pushed them away before my heart could react. Married? I stared at him, hoping for something—sarcasm, mockery, exaggeration. Anything to make it less real. But Elias’ face was calm. Too calm. It showed he had already decided how this news would affect me. That’s when I realized something important. He didn’t tell me because he cared. He told me because he wanted control. The shock hit me hard. It crawled up my spine, tightened my throat, and made my palms cold. My chest felt empty, as if something had dropped out of it and shattered on the floor. I couldn’t let him see that. Not now. Not after everything. “Yes,” I said. The word came out fast and strong, like a reflex I hadn’t practiced but had somehow perfected. “Yes,” I repeated, lifting my c

Clara’s POV The door closed behind him so softly it felt unreal. No slam. No final word. No dramatic pause. Just the quiet click of the wood meeting frame. Suddenly, the room felt too big, too empty, too loud with everything I had just destroyed. For a few seconds, I didn’t move. I stood exactly where he left me, arms still crossed like armor I forgot to take off, heart pounding against my ribs as if it were trying to escape. My ears rang. My throat burned. I told myself to breathe. I forgot how. When it finally hit me that he was really gone, my knees buckled. I didn’t slide down the wall gracefully. I collapsed. Hard. My back hit the floor first, then my head, then everything else crashed down. I curled inward, arms wrapping around my stomach like I could physically hold myself together. “What did you do?” I whispered. My voice sounded strange. Thin. Broken. The words I had thrown at him replayed in my mind, not as weapons anymore, but as knives I’d drive

POV: Elias’ Mother I have always felt that women like me are misunderstood. People confuse restraint with softness, silence with ignorance, and patience with weakness. They think that because we don’t raise our voices, we don’t sharpen our knives. They are always wrong. I learned this lesson early, long before marriage, before motherhood, and before my name held weight. Power never announces itself. It waits and watches. When it moves, it does so without apology. That evening, New York was honest with me. Not generous. Not romantic. Honest. The sky hovered between light and shadow. It was the kind of hour when truth slips through the cracks because everyone is distracted by the transition into night. Offices dimmed, restaurants filled, and the city exhaled ambition and fatigue equally. I made the call knowing exactly when to do it. Early evening in New York meant late night in Paris, a time when people let their guard down just enough to reveal their true beliefs. Vi