บททั้งหมดของ I Left My Billionaire Groom At The Altar &Married His Enemy : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

**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

**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

**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

**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

**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