All Chapters of The Billionaire Who Wants Me Next: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Elara The message stayed with me long after I locked my phone. You’re asking the wrong questions. I had read those five words more times than I cared to admit, searching for a hidden meaning that refused to reveal itself. By morning, I made myself a promise. I wouldn’t spend another day imprisoned by a stranger’s words. If someone wanted to fill my life with fear, then the greatest act of defiance was simply living. So I did. I woke early, made breakfast instead of skipping it, opened every curtain in the apartment, and let the sunlight flood the rooms. I spent the morning reading, answered a few work emails, watered the plants Denise insisted I would eventually kill, and even took a short walk to the nearby café. For the first time in days, I left my phone tucked inside my bag instead of constantly checking it. Every few minutes, I reminded myself to breathe. To look forward instead of over my shoulder. It wasn’t easy. But it was a start. Just before noon, my phone rang

Elara The morning of the National Corporate Summit arrived with a strange sense of inevitability. I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the fabric of my ivory pantsuit. It was elegant without being extravagant, tailored without demanding attention. A pair of pearl earrings and nude heels completed the look. There would be women dressed in designer gowns worth more than my annual salary, but I reminded myself that I wasn’t attending to compete with them. I was there for a reason. Alistair’s words echoed in my mind. Observe. Listen. Remember. Nothing more.Nothing less. Taking one last steadying breath, I slipped the invitation into my handbag and left. The convention center was unlike anything I had ever seen. Towering glass walls reflected the morning sun, while luxury cars lined the entrance in an endless procession. Uniformed attendants welcomed guests onto a crimson carpet leading into the grand ballroom. Inside, crystal chandeliers illuminated a vast hall filled with

Alistair The walk to the private meeting room should have been uneventful. Instead, it felt longer than any boardroom negotiation I had ever endured. I acknowledged greetings with practiced ease, exchanged brief handshakes with investors, and accepted compliments about my keynote address without allowing a single crack to appear in my composure. No one noticed the storm beneath it. For the better part of the afternoon, I had watched Louis Valmont remain at Elara’s side. He hadn’t touched her.He hadn’t crossed any obvious boundaries. Yet somehow, that made it worse. They walked together through the ballroom. They spoke with executives. They were introduced as though they belonged together, and no one questioned it. In the eyes of every guest, they looked natural. Comfortable.Familiar. More than once I had caught photographers turning their cameras toward them before redirecting their attention elsewhere. I had spent years mastering self-control.Hostile takeovers. Government

ElaraBy the time I arrived home, the weight of the day had settled into every part of me.My feet ached from hours spent walking across polished marble floors. My shoulders were tense, and although I hadn’t done anything physically demanding, I felt completely exhausted.The summit had demanded something far more draining than physical energy.It required constant attention.Constant restraint.Constant observation.The moment I stepped inside the apartment, Denise looked up from the living room sofa.Her eyes widened immediately.“You look exhausted.”I managed a small smile as I slipped off my heels.“I feel exhausted.”She stood before I could protest.“Sit down. You’re not answering a single question until I make you some tea.”“You don’t have to—”“I wasn’t asking.”I laughed softly, too tired to argue.“Yes, ma’am.”A few minutes later, the comforting aroma of chamomile drifted through the apartment. Denise placed a steaming cup in front of me before taking the chair across from

Elara The morning after the summit was surprisingly quiet. Sunlight streamed through my apartment windows as I settled at my dining table with a notebook, my laptop, and the stack of documents I’d brought home from the conference. For the first time since the summit had begun, I had the opportunity to organize everything without interruption. I carefully transferred handwritten observations into a digital file. Names of investors. Companies that had announced partnerships. Executives who had appeared uncertain whenever the Valmont Group entered the conversation. The more I reviewed my notes, the clearer certain patterns became. The same investment firms had repeatedly delayed commitments. Several influential executives had quietly avoided private meetings with Valmont representatives. None of it was enough to prove anything. But it was enough to suggest that Alistair’s instincts had been correct. Something beneath the surface was shifting. My phone buzzed. Denise: Still