《The Billionaire Who Wants Me Next》全部章節：第 91 章 - 第 100 章

Alistair I watched through the tinted glass as the police officer entered Elara’s hospital room. She deserved answers. Unfortunately, the authorities were asking the wrong questions. By the time they finished taking her statement, every piece of useful evidence would have already disappeared if I left the investigation in their hands. I had no intention of making that mistake. Turning away from the observation window, I walked into the temporary command center my security team had established on the hospital’s private floor. Computer monitors displayed traffic footage, satellite images, financial records, and live updates from operatives spread across the city. The room fell silent the moment I entered. “Report.” My security chief stepped forward. “We’ve identified the vehicles involved in the collision.” He projected several photographs onto the largest screen. “The sedan that boxed Miss Dubois in was reported stolen three days ago. The truck that struck her was purchased

Elara The day I was finally discharged from the hospital should have felt like freedom. Instead, it felt like stepping into another battlefield. The doctor stood at the foot of my bed, reviewing the final pages of my chart before offering me one last reminder. “Your injuries are healing well, Miss Dubois, but recovery doesn’t end when you leave this building. Avoid unnecessary stress. Get plenty of rest. Give your body time to recover.” I managed a polite smile. “I’ll do my best.” The words sounded convincing enough, but we both knew they weren’t true. How could I rest after someone had tried to kill me? How could I pretend my life was normal after receiving an anonymous photograph and a message promising I would be next? The moment I stepped outside the hospital entrance, warm sunlight greeted me, but it did little to ease the heaviness pressing against my chest. Two black SUVs waited by the curb. Several men in dark suits stood nearby, alert but discreet. The second the

Elara The invitation sat between Alistair and me on the polished desk, its elegant cream paper looking far too innocent for the unease it had stirred inside me. I had resisted the urge to reply to it the moment it arrived. Instead, I brought it directly to him. Alistair read every line without speaking. His expression never changed, but I noticed the slight tightening of his jaw as he turned the card over, examining the embossed seal pressed into the corner. Finally, he set it down. “It’s authentic.” Relief briefly washed over me before disappearing just as quickly. “So… someone really invited me?” His gray eyes lifted to mine. “Yes.” He paused. “But it wasn’t supposed to reach you this way.” A chill settled across my skin. “What do you mean?” “This gathering doesn’t send open invitations. Attendance is carefully controlled. Someone wanted you to receive this personally.” The room fell silent. I stared at the invitation again, realizing it was no longer simply an oppo

Elara The restaurant was elegant without being extravagant, tucked away in one of the city’s quieter business districts. It was the kind of place where executives conducted conversations they didn’t want overheard but didn’t want hidden either. Exactly the sort of place Alistair would have expected. I arrived alone. Although several members of Alistair’s security team had discreetly monitored my route from a distance, no one accompanied me inside. To anyone watching, I looked like an ordinary woman attending a simple business lunch. That illusion mattered. The executive was already waiting when I entered. He stood with a polite smile. “Miss Dubois.” “It’s good to see you again.” We exchanged a brief handshake before taking our seats beside the window. The waiter poured water and disappeared almost immediately, leaving us with an atmosphere that felt far too calm. At first, the conversation was harmless. He asked whether I had enjoyed the networking event. I answered poli

Elara The invitation remained on my desk long after I had read it for the tenth time. Its elegant cream paper looked harmless, but I knew better than to judge anything in the corporate world by appearances. Whoever had sent it knew my name. They knew enough to invite me personally to an event attended by people whose influence stretched far beyond a single company. The question wasn’t whether I wanted to attend.It was whether attending would help us—or expose me. By late afternoon, I carried the invitation to Alistair’s penthouse. He accepted the envelope without speaking and studied every detail, from the embossed seal to the quality of the paper. He turned it over twice before placing it on the desk between us. “It isn’t a trap,” he said at last. I frowned. “You’re certain?” “As certain as anyone can be.” He leaned back in his chair. “If someone intended to harm you, they wouldn’t announce themselves with a formal invitation.” “They want me there.” “Yes.” He folded his