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Lahat ng Kabanata ng I Left My Billionaire Groom At The Altar &Married His Enemy : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

77 Kabanata

Chapter 21

**Lena’s POV** Mr. Voss's voice was the only one in the room as ours seems to have gone silent “We’re still in this,” Voss continued. “Friday’s the verdict. I’m flying home tonight...Isabella needs me, but I’ll be back Thursday night. You three hold the fort. Rest. Drink something strong. Just… don’t give up on me.” Sarah finally looked up. “We won’t, boss.” He gave a tired smile. “Good. Because I’m not giving up on any of you.” He left an hour later....his private jet already fueled, bag packed, face set like stone. Then it was just us three. "Let's go rest a little... we can have drinks in the evening". Tom said Sarah hesitated. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s go.” Something was off with her the second we got back to the resort. She’d been quiet since the file vanished..quieter than usual. Sarah was normally the one cracking jokes, oversharing about her toddler’s latest tantrum or complaining about her baby daddy’s latest disappearing act. Today? Barely a word. I knocked on her door

Chapter 22

**Isabella’s POV** The house felt too big and too small at the same time. Every corner held Dad—his favorite armchair still shaped to his body, the faint smell of his coffee in the kitchen, the half-finished crossword on the side table. Mom and I had come straight from the hospital, moving like ghosts. We didn’t speak much that first night. She made chamomile tea that neither of us drank. I helped her change into pajamas, tucked her into the bed they’d shared for thirty-four years. She clung to me for a long time, silent tears soaking my shirt. When she finally slept, I sat on the floor outside her door until dawn, knees pulled to my chest, listening to her uneven breathing. Morning came gray and heavy. I woke on the couch, my neck was stiff, eyes swollen. Mom was already up—moving through the kitchen like she was on autopilot, wiping counters that were already clean. “You should eat something,” she said when I shuffled in, voice hoarse. “So should you.” She gave a watery smil

Chapter 23

**Davis’s POV** I was in an online mid-meeting...some supply-chain forecast with the fishery execs—when my phone buzzed on silent. I ignored it at first, but the vibration kept going, insistent. I glanced down. Headline push notification: *“Tragic Loss: New Executive Assistant and Alleged Girlfriend of Voss Enterprises CEO Lucian Voss Loses Father in a tragic car accident”* My stomach dropped. I stood so fast my chair rolled back and hit the wall. “Meeting’s over,” I said, voice flat. “Family emergency.” No one argued. I immediately logged out before they could ask questions, my phone already to my ear, dialing her number from memory. It rang forever. I paced the hallway, my heart slamming against my ribs. Finally....it connected. “Hello?” Her voice was quiet, steady in a way that made it worse. “Bella.” My words tumbled out. “I just saw the news. Jesus, I’m so sorry. Are you...how are you holding up?” A soft exhale. “I’m… managing. Thanks for calling.” “Managing?” I

Chapter 24

**Lucian’s POV** The cemetery was small, old oaks shading the rows of headstones, a soft wind carrying the scent of fresh-turned earth. I stood just behind Isabella, close enough to feel her tremble but not touching—yet. She wore black, simple dress, her hair pulled back, while her face was pale under the wide-brimmed hat. Her mother stood on her other side, clutching a single white rose like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Davis was on Isabella’s left, suit dark, tie straight, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He’d shown up an hour early, found me in the parking lot, and simply nodded...no words needed. The minister’s voice rose and fell, scripture and comfort woven together. I didn’t hear most of it. I watched Isabella instead—her shoulders rigid, while her fingers twisted the tissue in her hand until it shredded. When the casket lowered, a soft sob escaped her. I stepped forward then, hand settling lightly on her lower back. She leaned into it without looking, just

Chapter 25

**Lucian's POV** The conference hall buzzed with a low, electric hum, the kind that presses against your skin like static before a storm. Rows of polished tables gleamed under the overhead lights, each company's banner hanging stiff and proud behind their teams. The air was thick...stale coffee mixed with expensive cologne and the faint tang of sweat. Everyone sat ramrod straight, their eyes darting to the stage where the judges huddled in whispered consultation. Whispers rippled through the room like ripples in still water, but no one dared speak above a murmur. Five companies, five teams, all hanging on a knife's edge. My fingers drummed silently on the armrest, my gaze fixed forward, but my mind raced a little....every scenario, every fallback. The stakes weren't just the partnership; it was blood now. Lena leaned in from my left, her voice a tight whisper. "You think they bought our recovery yesterday? Voss Enterprises still has the edge on innovation....Knight's pitch was all

Chapter 26

**Alexander’s POV** (Flashback) Nineteen years ago Bowling alley on the edge of the city Late Saturday afternoon The place smelled like shoe disinfectant, hot grease, and teenage bravado. Neon signs buzzed overhead...Strike Zone, 24 Lanes, Cosmic Bowling Tonight!...casting purple and green streaks across the waxed floors. Pins crashed every few seconds like distant thunder. Kids screamed when they guttered; grown men cursed when they didn’t. Arcade games beeped and whooped in the background. Normal Saturday chaos. I sat alone at lane 7, my rented shoes too tight, plastic cup of flat cola sweating on the score table. I’d been here forty minutes already. Dad said three o’clock. It was three thirty-seven. I kept checking the double doors every time they swung open. Families. Teen couples. A pack of boys in varsity jackets. No one who looked like the pictures I’d seen online—the golden boy heir, Lucian Knight, always standing beside Reginald Knight at charity galas, both

Chapter 27

**Reginald Knight’s POV** (Flashback – One month after Eleanor’s funeral) The Knight estate – Private study, 11:47 p.m. Rain lashing the floor-to-ceiling windows like it wanted inside The fire was dying. I hadn’t bothered to add another log. Let it choke on its own ashes. Fitting, really. Across the low table sat Victor Langston and Malcolm Hayes—two of the only men on the board I still trusted enough to drink with after midnight. Victor, broad-shouldered, perpetual five-o’clock shadow, nursing a double Macallan like it owed him money. Malcolm, leaner, silver-haired, fingers steepled, eyes always calculating three moves ahead. They’d both been at the funeral. Both sent flowers to the house every week since. Both knew exactly how much Eleanor’s family hated me now that the casket was in the ground. Victor broke the silence first, voice rough from too many cigars. “You look like hell, Reg.” I gave a dry laugh that tasted like battery acid. “Feel like it too.” Malcolm swirl

Chapter 28

**Isabella’s POV** The penthouse smelled like clean linen and cedar when I walked in. Lucian had left the windows cracked...fresh air drifting in off the city, mixing with the faint scent of his cologne that still clung to the furniture. I dropped my duffel by the door and kicked off my sneakers, letting my bare feet sink into the rug. Home. Or something close to it. Mom had insisted I come back here after the funeral. “You need space to breathe, Bella. And he’s good for you.” She’d squeezed my hand so hard I thought she’d leave fingerprints. I hadn’t argued. I hadn’t argued about much lately. The elevator dinged behind me. Davis stepped out carrying two paper bags and a cardboard tray with coffee cups. His hair was wind-tousled, and his sleeves rolled to his elbows, that easy grin already in place. “You’re early,” I said, surprised. “Traffic was kind for once.” He lifted the bags. “I come bearing gifts. Croissants from that little French place on 5th. And the good coffee, no

Chapter 29

**Lucian’s POV** The key turned in the lock with a soft click, and I stepped into the penthouse, the door swinging shut behind me with a heavy thud that echoed through the empty foyer. The lights were dim, the kind of automatic glow that kicked in at dusk, casting long shadows across the marble floors. No music drifting from the kitchen. No laughter echoing off the walls. Just silence, thick and waiting. I dropped my bag by the console table, shrugged off my jacket, and called out. "Bella? Davis?" Nothing. Clara appeared from the hallway, her apron dusted with flour, hands clasped in front of her like she was delivering bad news. "Mr. Voss, welcome back. I didn't expect you so early." I nodded, loosening my tie. "Where is everyone?" She hesitated, glancing toward the windows as if they held the answer. "Miss Isabella and Mr. Davis went out a couple of hours ago. He said something about getting some fresh air. They should be back soon for dinner." Fresh air. With Davis. I kept

Chapter 30

**Lena’s POV** Monday morning hit like a freight train. The office smelled like fresh coffee and printer ink, the usual buzz of keyboards and murmured greetings already in full swing when I stepped off the elevator. Everyone was still riding the high from the summit—even though we didn’t win, the way we clawed back from the glitch had people talking. I could feel eyes on me as I walked to my desk. Whispers. Smiles. A few claps on the shoulder. Lucian, Our Boss was already there, standing at the front of the open-plan floor, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his tie missing though. He looked tired around the eyes but still carried that quiet command that made the whole room straighten when he spoke. He waited until the last person settled. Then his voice cut through the chatter...very low, steady, the kind that made you lean in. “I know last week felt like a loss,” he started. “We poured everything into that summit. We built something brilliant. We recovered from a disaster most team

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