All Chapters of Losing My Voice, I Got Pregnant by the Wrong Man: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

{Alora’s POV}The pharmacy was still behind me, carrying on with it running while I remained there on the sidewalk, still thinking, still distressing. Still doubting. Then I dialed Victor.The call did not even ring. It ended before it began and I stared at the screen.“Call Failed.”I tried again.The same. Not declined or ignored. Blocked. The finality of it felt surgical and I lowered the phone slowly.He had not only removed my money. He had removed access, and now, there would be no arguments.No negotiations. No explanations.Just silence.I still remained standing there. People moved around me and cars passed while the city continued in its indifferent rhythm.I still couldn’t believe it. That account had been shared, joint and linked to the company I built with him. I remembered the day we merged everything.“It’s easier this way,” Victor had said.I had believed him.We were married. We were partners and we were building something together. So I had signed documents with tr

{Alora’s POV}For a moment after she spoke, and after the tight silence, I believed I had misread her lips.“He doesn’t want to see you.”No.That wasn’t possible. I grew defensive and lifted my phone immediately, fingers trembling as I typed.“What you’re suggesting is not true. Noah would never say that.”I turned the screen toward her and she read it quietly. Her expression did not change.She did not argue. She did not correct me and she did not try to soften it further.“I spoke to him this morning,” she said gently. “He was very clear.”Clear.The word felt cruel but unintentionally so. My breath became shaky.I typed again, faster this time.“Did Anna tell him not to come? Did Victor say something against it?”That was a strong possibility but then the legal liaison shook her head slowly.“He said he didn’t want to see you. He told us himself.” She said. There was no anger in her voice. No cruelty.Just procedure.That made it worse.If she had been harsh, I could have resisted

{Alora’s POV}“Alora.”The sound of my name echoed down the corridor like it belonged to someone else.I turned slowly and Anna stood there, framed perfectly beneath the polished lighting of the executive floor. Tailored suit. Heels sharp against marble. Posture immaculate.She smiled. Not warmly but knowingly.“Well,” she said, walking toward me with deliberate slowness, “look what the wind dragged back in.”Employees nearby slowed at her words and conversations dipped. Eyes shifted and I slowly became the centre of attention. Anna stopped a few feet away, her gaze traveling over me from head to toe. She did not rush her inspection.“Oh,” she breathed softly. “I see you’ve gotten a new look… Poverty.” She said and a ripple of quiet laughter moved through the small gathering forming behind her.My jaw tightened.I straightened instinctively, though I knew how I must look— thinner, tired, coat worn at the seams. Anna circled me slowly now like she was assessing damage.“Did you come t

{Alora’s POV}Morning felt thinner than usual, as though the air itself had decided not to interfere with whatever I was about to do. I stepped onto the sidewalk with one name pressing steadily against the inside of my mind.Morningstar.He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. News articles praised him. Financial columns dissected him. Commentators speculated about him. Yet none of it offered something as simple as where he slept, or where he could be found without invitation.But I was determined. I walked for nearly an hour while scrolling through search results, passing corporate addresses and satellite offices, private subsidiaries and investment arms registered across cities and countries. He did not exist in one place. He existed in systems as every address listed belonged to a structure, not a man.There was no home address. No public schedule.No vulnerability.He had built himself into a myth, and myths are not easy to approach.I soon stopped beneath a streetlight

{Alora’s POV}The car door closed with a sound too soft for the decision it represented.Inside, the air smelled faintly of leather and something expensive I could not name. The seats were arranged facing inward, and I found myself between two men who were already mid-conversation, as though my presence required no adjustment beyond spatial accommodation.“…if the Singapore position shifts another three points, we absorb it,” one of them said calmly.“And if it doesn’t?” the other replied.“Then we don’t enter at all. He doesn’t tolerate volatility masquerading as opportunity.”He.They did not need to say the name.The city passed beyond the tinted glass in streaks of gray and gold, and I kept my posture composed, hands resting neatly in my lap. Listening was safer than performing. Listening always had been.They spoke of cross-border infrastructure acquisitions, currency hedging, board alignment before the next fiscal recalibration. Their vocabulary was not foreign to me; it was fami