All Chapters of The Billionaire Who Regretted Losing Me: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The call came just before dawn. Serena was already awake, staring at the faint glow of the city as it stretched itself into morning. When her phone vibrated, she didn’t flinch.“Ms. Blake,” the voice on the other end said, formal and clipped. “This is the Oversight Council.”Serena sat up. “I’m listening.”“There will be a public hearing this afternoon,” the man continued. “Regarding the influence of independent foundations on media integrity.”Ethan, half-awake beside her, caught the tension in her posture.“You’re being summoned,” he said.“I’m being challenged,” Serena replied.The chamber was larger than Serena expected wood-paneled, imposing, built to remind visitors who traditionally held authority. Cameras lined the walls. Journalists murmured behind barriers.Serena took her seat calmly. Across the room, familiar faces avoided her gaze. Others studied her with open curiosity.“This is it,” Ethan murmured. “They’re trying to put you on record.”“Good,” Serena replied softly. “R

Serena didn’t announce Phase Three, she implemented it. The first step was painful and intentional, but she withdrew the foundation from two high-profile partnerships. Organizations that had publicly praised transparency but privately stalled reform.“Walking away will hurt us,” her operations lead warned.“Yes,” Serena replied. “But staying would hollow us out.”The resignations followed quietly, not from her team, but from boards unwilling to be audited. Power revealed itself best when it felt threatened.The backlash finally grew teeth.An investigative piece surfaced late that night, questioning Serena’s role as both founder and public face of the foundation.Conflict of interest, it suggested.By morning, headlines echoed the phrase. Ethan slammed the paper down. “They’re framing leadership as self-interest.”“They’re reframing independence as ego,” Serena said calmly.“And the response?”Serena closed her laptop. “I step back.”The room went silent when she announced it.“You ca

Marcus Vale didn’t strike immediately.He never did. That was his advantage, patience sharpened by decades of watching others rush. Serena understood that the moment she left the library. The danger wasn’t retaliation, It was recalibration.“They’re going to move everything at once,” Serena said that night, pacing the living room. “Boards. Funding. Narratives.”Ethan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You sure?”“Marcus doesn’t fight battles,” she replied. “He rewrites environments.”The first shift came before morning. A major financial institution quietly pulled its backing from the foundation’s audit framework, not publicly, not critically, just “temporarily.” Within hours, two others followed.Not panic. Coordination.“They’re trying to starve the work,” Ethan said.“They’re testing how much momentum exists without infrastructure,” Serena replied.By noon, Serena convened an emergency call with the foundation’s advisory circle. Faces filled the screen, some resolute, some

Marcus Vale didn’t wait long. Men like him never did once the game turned personal. The summons arrived the following morning, not through courts, not through media, but through influence. A closed-door emergency session convened by a coalition that technically didn’t exist and officially held no power.Yet everyone answered Including Serena.“They’re calling it mediation,” Ethan said as she read the notice.“Of course they are,” Serena replied. “They need it to look civil.”“And you’re going?”“Yes,” she said simply. “This is the last door.”The room was windowless, neutral, designed to erase emotion. Twelve people sat around the table, executives, regulators, legal architects. And at the far end, Marcus Vale. No pretense this time.“You forced our hand,” Marcus said once Serena sat.Serena met his gaze. “You forced my boundaries.”The opening statements were long and carefully worded. Concerns about stability. About precedent. About the danger of decentralization. Serena listened wi

Five years later, the plaque outside the building was modest with no grand title, no names carved in gold. Just words that mattered:Independent Media Standards InstituteInside, people worked quietly. Methodically. Without fear. Serena walked through the halls unnoticed, exactly as she preferred. She no longer led meetings, she advised when asked, listened when needed, and stepped back when it was time.The institute had grown beyond her, spreading into universities, newsrooms, and policy frameworks across continents. No single person owned it. That had always been the point.A young analyst approached her nervously. “Ms. Blake, could you review this?”Serena smiled. “Only if you tell me what you think first.” The analyst relaxed, confidence blooming. That, Serena thought, was legacy.At home, life was simpler. Leo was taller now, louder, endlessly curious. He argued passionately, asked uncomfortable questions, and hated unfairness with a fierceness that made Serena laugh and ache at