Todos los capítulos de The Billionaire Forgot He Hated Me: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

Victor “I want something else.” The words hung in the cold air of my office. No one spoke. The low hum of the air-conditioning suddenly felt louder. I kept my eyes on Mrs. Graham, waiting for the rest of it, while my mind kept reaching for any scrap of memory that might tell me who this woman really was. Nothing came. Only the same blank wall. She did not rush. But her eyes… her eyes were already speaking. They held me with a quiet, unwavering intensity that did not match her voice. There was something searching in them. Something personal. The look sank under my skin and stayed there, heavy and unexplained, as if she were looking at more than the man sitting across from her. "The Cavendish Imperial Dining.” she said at last. Her voice remained even, almost gentle—a clean business request layered over whatever darker thing lived in her gaze. “That’s what I want. The flagship restaurant directly across from this building. Its current market value is approximately twenty mill

ClaireI was wiping down the counter when the front door opened and Victor stepped inside.For a second, my heart simply lifted, bright and foolish. He was back. The sight of him still felt new enough to startle me every time, like the world had decided to gift me something I still couldn’t quite believe was mine. Then I really looked at him.Something was wrong.The tiredness sat in his eyes, deeper than ordinary exhaustion—something heavier, something that made my chest tighten before I even understood why. I set the cloth down and walked toward him, pulse already quickening.He didn’t speak. He just opened his arms and pulled me into him.The force of the hug stole the air from my lungs. I froze for a heartbeat, hands suspended uselessly in the air, before my body caught up and I melted into him, arms wrapping tightly around his back. His suit was warm from the day. Beneath it I could feel the solid, unyielding line of his shoulders, the faint, familiar scent of his cologne, and th

Claire The question hung between us, soft and completely serious. Why not you? Something fluttered hard in my chest. For a second, I couldn’t find an answer that didn’t feel too small. Victor’s thumb kept moving slowly across the inside of my wrist, warm and steady. His eyes never left mine. “You’re qualified,” he said quietly, “because you already understand the thing most kitchens never learn. You just told me a restaurant is a system of care—that food is the most immediate language we have for saying you care about someone. You spoke about making strangers feel seen. That isn’t technique, Claire. That’s vision. I’ve watched you at your restaurant — the way you stay calm when everything is moving too fast. The way you read what people need before they can name it, the quiet pride you take in sending them out lighter than they came in. Technique can be taught. That kind of heart, that kind of meaning… can’t. The Cavendish Imperial Dining has perfect plates. I believe what it does

Claire“Then what are you afraid of?”I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. The truth sat like a stone on my tongue—I’m afraid of the day you remember, I’m afraid of how much I want this, I’m afraid that if we keep going you’ll realise I don’t know what I’m doing—but none of it would come out.Instead, my voice cracked on something smaller and far more dangerous.“I’m afraid that... I—" I stopped.I tried again. The words snagged somewhere between my chest and my throat.“I—just—” My voice cracked. I took a step back without meaning to. Heat rushed up my neck. “I can’t— I mean— it’s—”I stumbled back another step. Then another.“Claire—” Victor’s hand lifted, slow, like he was reaching for a frightened animal. The sight of it made something in me panic.I turned and almost tripped over my own feet. The hallway stretched too long. I pushed through the bedroom door. It shut harder than I meant it to. My back hit the wood. I stood there, chest heaving, palms flat again

ClaireI barely slept.The hours after my father's call stretched thin and sharp, each minute a blade pressed against my throat. Every time I closed my eyes I heard the name again—Jasmine—and saw the shape of a future that no longer included me. I lay on my side staring at the dark, replaying Victor's voice from earlier last night. The careful way he had said I was safe. The quiet promise that he would never push. The forehead kiss. The blanket pulled up to my shoulders. He had meant every word. I knew that. And that was what made it worse. He had given me tenderness without knowing the full truth of what we were. Without knowing that I've been lying to him.My father's voice echoed in my skull. Victor’s real girlfriend is coming back to Los Angeles. The words had burrowed into my chest like parasites, feeding on every moment of happiness I had stolen with Victor. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? Stolen.But Jasmine was his past. His almost-fiancée. The woman he had planned to s