All Chapters of From Wife to Boss: His Greatest Regret: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

THE breakfast was long over, but the calm after it still lingered in the penthouse.The living room was quiet, warm light spilling through the tall windows, the city outside already awake.Carl sat on one side of the space with a file in his hands, flipping through documents without much urgency. His posture was relaxed, but his focus wasn’t.Alessia stepped in slowly.She paused for a second, watching him. Then she walked over.Carl looked up before she reached him.“Hey,” he said simply.Alessia stopped beside him and gave a small smile.“Hey.”She sat next to him on the couch, folding her hands loosely in her lap.A small silence settled between them.Then she spoke first.“That breakfast… it was really nice.”Carl gave a faint smile.“I’m glad you liked it.”She nodded slightly.“Thank you.”He tilted his head.“It’s my pleasure. I have kind of… been wanting to do that for a long time.”Alessia blinked once. Then twice. Like she heard it but chose not to process it.She exhaled li

NIGHT had swallowed the city whole, and on the top floor of the private VIP wing of St. Vincent Private Medical Center, silence sat like a threat.The room was large, expensive, and cold.Floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooked the glittering city lights below. Machines hummed softly in the background. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, sharp and clean.On the bed, half-reclined against white pillows, sat Dante Moreau.Even injured, he looked dangerous.A white bandage wrapped around his right hand, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his black shirt. Bruises marked the side of his jaw and cheekbone, fading into yellow and purple beneath the dim lights. His knuckles were still raw. A healing cut rested just above his brow.But none of that softened him.If anything, it made him look worse.More dangerous.His dark eyes were fixed on the city outside, unmoving, a glass of untouched whiskey resting on the side table beside him.Around the room stood four men in dark suits— hi

THE evening sun stretched softly across the porch, painting the marble floor in warm gold.Alessia sat quietly on one of the outdoor chairs, her phone in her hand, absentmindedly scrolling through messages she wasn’t really reading.The air was calm and peaceful that evening. For the first time in a long while, peace didn’t feel strange. It felt possible.From the distance, the sound of a car approaching broke the silence.She looked up.A sleek black car glided through the gates and into the compound.She already knew whose it was. A small smile touched her lips.The car came to a stop.The chauffeur stepped out first, walking around to open the back door.A polished shoe touched the ground first, then Carl stepped out.Grey suit, white shirt, no tie. Effortlessly put together.His presence alone had a way of making everything around him feel… intentional.He adjusted the sleeve of his jacket slightly before looking up and immediately, his eyes found hers. Like they always did.His e

ALESSIA sat quietly in front of the dressing mirror, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the table.She was already dressed, prepared and so ready. At least physically. But emotionally? That was a different story.Her reflection stared back at her— calm face, composed posture, but her eyes betrayed everything. It was filled with nervousness, fear, uncertainty.Four years.It had been four whole years.Four years since she had walked out of her parents’ house with stubborn pride in her chest and Damien’s hand in hers.Four years since she had chosen love over family.Four years since she had ignored every warning her father gave her.And now… she was going back.Her lips parted slowly as she stared at herself.“What if he still hates me?”She whispered it to no one.Her father’s voice still lived clearly in her head. Sharp. Cold. Final.‘If you walk out of this house to marry that man against my will, Alessia, then do not return. You will no longer be my daughter. I will cut you

THE black Maybach rolled smoothly into the wide driveway of Carl Orion’s mansion and stopped. Silence followed. Then the rear door clicked open. A long, perfectly manicured leg stepped out first, in a carefully slow, deliberate and confident grace. Raven Lux didn’t rush, because she never did. She straightened up fully, letting the city breeze catch her long braids that were styled into a sleek, expensive ponytail, edges laid sharp enough to look like they had their own PR team. Her outfit screamed without trying: a cropped designer jacket in metallic silver, oversized sleeves pushed slightly up her forearms, layered over a fitted black bodysuit that hugged her waist perfectly. Matching high-waisted leather pants, glossy boots that clicked even when she wasn’t moving. Chains glinted at her neck. Hoop earrings caught the sunlight. Her nails were long and sharp, polished like glass. A pop star. A rapper. A walking headline. She leaned against the open door of the ca