All Chapters of Too Late, Mr. Cross: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

*Damian's POV* Daniel looked from me to Ethan and then to the members of the board as though he expected someone else to answer the question for him. Nobody did. The silence stretched long enough for the low hum of the projector to become distracting. I slowly pushed the tablet back toward him. "I asked you a question." "I know, sir." "Then answer it." He drew a careful breath before speaking. "The deleted folder contained every financial record connected to the private investor who has been supporting Cross Group." I frowned. "What private investor?" The confusion on Daniel's face deepened. For a brief second, I wondered whether he thought I was testing him. His eyes shifted toward Ethan again. "Mr. Brooks..." Ethan remained seated, but I noticed the way his fingers tightened around the edge of the conference table. "Answer him," he said quietly. Daniel swallowed. "The investor whose capital has quietly stabilized Cross Group whenever the company exper

*Elena’s POV*The man lowered his phone the moment our eyes met.For half a second, neither of us moved.Traffic rolled between us in uneven bursts, a yellow cab cutting across my line of sight before disappearing down the street, but when the road cleared again, he was still there.Standing beside the dark sedan and watching me.My fingers tightened around the strap of my portfolio.I did not wait to see whether he would lift the phone again.I turned sharply and started walking.At first, I forced myself to keep a normal pace. I had spent too many years surrounded by reporters to know what happened when they smelled fear. Running would only give him more photographs, more questions, more reasons to follow.Still, every nerve along my spine had tightened.I passed a coffee shop, a pharmacy, then a busy intersection where people crowded around the pedestrian crossing. The moment the light changed, I slipped between them and crossed with everyone else.I glanced back; the man had left

*Elena’s POV*The prenatal class was held on the third floor of a private maternity center, inside a room painted in soft cream with floor cushions arranged in a wide circle.I stood at the entrance longer than I should have.Everywhere I looked, there were couples.A man kneeling to tie his wife’s shoelace because her stomach had gotten too big for her to bend comfortably. Another rubbing slow circles over his partner’s back while she laughed at something the instructor had said. Someone near the window was arguing with her husband about baby names, though neither of them sounded remotely upset.They were happy and comfortable.Familiar with one another in a way that made my chest tighten before I had even taken my seat.“Ms. Williams?”I turned toward the instructor.She smiled warmly. “You can come in. We’re about to begin.”“Sorry.”“You don’t need to apologize.”I stepped inside, clutching my water bottle against my chest.She glanced behind me. “Is your partner parking?”The q

*Michael’s POV*I knew something was wrong before Elena finished telling me about the man.She tried to make it sound smaller than it was, which had become one of her habits whenever she was frightened. She would soften the details, add explanations nobody asked for, and pretend she was only being cautious instead of admitting that something had unsettled her.This time, she had said the man was probably press.Then she admitted he had lowered his phone the moment she noticed him.By the time she mentioned that he resembled the same man who had photographed her outside Sterling Tower, I had already stopped believing coincidence had anything to do with it.I walked into the apartment just after nine that evening and found Elena sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around her legs.A notebook rested on her lap.She closed it immediately when she saw me.“You’re back early.”“My meeting ended.”“That never happens.”“It happened today.”Her eyes narrowed slightly.“You

*Elena's POV* White roses. I knew those flowers too well. Damian had given me white roses on my twenty-first birthday, back when he still remembered dates that mattered to me. He had complained about carrying them through the house because the arrangement was enormous, then spent ten minutes trimming the stems himself because I told him the vase was too short. For years afterward, I had kept one dried petal inside a book. I had thrown it away after signing the divorce papers. My phone was already in my hand when the elevator opened behind me. I turned quickly. A security guard stepped out, and the stiffness in my shoulders eased enough for me to speak. "Ms. Williams?" "Yes. Thank you for coming." He glanced toward the bouquet. "You haven't touched it?" "No." "Do you know who sent it?" "If I knew that, I probably wouldn't have called you." He gave me an apologetic nod and crouched beside the flowers. "No card?" "I didn't see one." He checked between the stems, beneath