All Chapters of Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

‘Come back to Mayfair,’ Cary repeated, sounding more confident now.As if Jaclyn’s little speech had somehow validated him.‘You don’t need to stay here.’That was what he said, but in my ears, it automatically translated to: They don’t need you here. No one wants you but me.I’d heard it so often during my three years working for him that I’d stopped reacting to it.But now…I gave the IV line a testing tug.I hadn’t forgotten the slap in his study the night I left London. Maybe it was time to return the favour.If only my boss weren’t in the room...‘Hyacinth?’ Lochlan’s voice cut through my increasingly violent fantasies.‘Hmm?’ I looked up. ‘Sorry, what?’‘I said,’ he repeated, ‘are you planning to quit your job with us?’‘Of course not,’ I said instantly.Jaclyn turned to frown at me.I pretended I hadn’t seen it.Honestly, what did she expect? That I’d hand her my position with a polite curtsy? Who did she think she was?Lochlan’s mouth curved slightly. ‘Good. Then I expect you t

Kai sighed. ‘Because he wasn’t just covering up embezzlement. He was covering up murder.’‘What?’ My mouth went dry. ‘You mean he actually killed someone?’‘Two someones,’ Kai said. ‘A double homicide ten years ago.’Something clicked. ‘You’re talking about those phantom employees. The ones with fake names on the payroll.’‘Yes. They were real,’ he said grimly. ‘Illegal immigrants. Marcus got them jobs, forged their papers, and took eighty per cent of their salaries. When they tried to leave, he panicked. A fight broke out, and he killed them.’‘Jesus.’ I blinked, trying to wrap my head around it. I’d assumed he was a greedy sociopath, not a homicidal one.‘Shawn Tan helped with the fake documents,’ Kai went on. ‘He was complicit. When Marcus threatened him, he had no choice but to keep quiet. They decided to pretend the workers were still alive, kept them on the payroll, and split the money for over a decade. No one came looking for the victims, so it stayed buried.’‘That’s bloody ev

Kai helped me check out of the hospital in the morning.I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, Cary’s face hovered behind my eyelids: shock, disbelief, and that deep, wounded look that said he’d finally realised I’d stopped loving him.He hadn’t taken my card. He’d only said, ‘I’m not giving up on us.’So when I spotted him loitering near Lochlan’s jet, I wasn’t remotely surprised. Of course he’d be there. Cary Grant, the man who mistook obsession for devotion.Lochlan greeted him with the kind of smooth politeness that could freeze the Thames solid. ‘Mr Grant. A pleasure to see you again.’ The word ‘pleasure’ might as well have come with air quotes and a complimentary glass of arsenic. ‘Though I must admit, I didn’t expect to find you here. Are you not travelling on your own aircraft?’Cary shrugged, pretending he was casual, but his jaw twitched. ‘It’s taken a little knock. Engine trouble. Happens. But you’ve got plenty of room on this thing, haven’t you? I need to get back t

‘Roy, hold the engine for a moment,’ I instructed, my voice level.Roy glanced into the rearview mirror, his eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to the windscreen. He was a professional, and if he was puzzled by the command, he certainly knew better than to question it.Kai, already settled in the front passenger seat, muttered, ‘Miss Abrams went in, sir.’I offered no response. The Rolls-Royce Ghost idled silently, the air conditioning blowing a cool, lightly fragrant air through the cabin. It did little to mitigate the heated agitation in my chest. I wanted to yank off my tie, but I was not in the privacy of my Mayfair residence.I kept my eyes trained on the tablet in front of me, but the latest issue of The Financial Times failed to capture my interest.Hyacinth was still in the lounge. With Cary Grant. And with that woman, Vanessa, who, even from a brief look in passing, advertised herself as a woman looking for trouble.Hyacinth had asked to stay behind. I should have said

I declined the call from the unknown number, blocked it, and set my phone face down on the table.‘Who’s that?’ Portia asked, sipping her Sauvignon Blanc like she was judging its pedigree.‘No one important.’ Probably Cary. But that answer still held.‘Your little scheme worked,’ she said, eyes glinting with wicked amusement. ‘Maybe too bloody well. To Vanessa being successfully removed from the playing field—if only temporarily.’We clinked glasses.‘She’s hospitalised, I take it?’ I asked.‘Honey, please. Word from a friend of a friend who knows one of Armond’s bodyguards—she’s been admitted to some exclusive psych suite. Blood loss, self-harm, the full Shakespearean spectacle. Apparently, she’s under suicide watch.’ Portia smirked. ‘That woman’s always been melodramatic, but attempting murder and then stabbing herself for a guilt trip? That’s Oscar-worthy.’I waved a hand. ‘As long as she keeps Cary away from me, she can set herself on fire for all I care. I’ve got enough chaos in m