Alle Kapitel von I REGRET GETTING MARRIED TO A MOMMY'S BOY CEO: Kapitel 31 – Kapitel 40

Four months passed in a blur of cold numbers, strategic expansions, and the quiet, steady rhythm of my daughter’s laughter.By January, Clara was over a year old, walking on sturdy little legs across the hardwood floors of our stone cottage. She was quick, bright, and possessed a fierce, independent spark that filled every room she entered.Under my management, the Oakhaven Regional Co-op transformed from a struggling local operation into a dominant regional logistics powerhouse. I renegotiated every contract, streamlined our transport routes, and cut out every corrupt middleman who had been bleeding the local farmers dry. By the end of Q3, the Co-op's net revenues had surged by two hundred percent.My work did not go unnoticed.On a rainy Monday morning, I sat in the glass-walled executive office of the newly built Co-op headquarters, reviewing our expansion projections into the neighboring state.A knock sounded at the door, and my assistant stepped in. "Emma, there’s a representati

The rain fell over Geneva in a relentless, gray drizzle, turning the surface of the lake into pitted slate.Inside the private estate of Villa St. Laurent, Baron Henri de la Tour sat in his oak-paneled study, staring at a framed photograph on his desk. It showed his late daughter, Beatrice, holding her infant girl, Julianna, nearly twenty-nine years ago.For nearly three decades, the official record had been absolute: Beatrice had died in a Chicago hospital from sudden post-partum complications during a brutal winter storm. Her newborn daughter, Julianna, had been rushed back to Europe by Henri’s late sister to be raised in the safety of the St. Laurent estate.The medical report filed by the American clinic had explicitly stated that the second twin, a smaller girl had been stillborn, buried in an unmarked grave before the European family even landed in Illinois. No one had ever questioned it. There had been no reason to look for a ghost.A soft knock interrupted the silence. Count P

Rain drizzled over the north side of Chicago, turning the brick brownstones into dark, reflective slate.In a quiet, working-class neighborhood far removed from the city's commercial district, Dupont stood outside a two-story apartment building. He checked the address on his paper note before pressing the bronze buzzer for apartment 2B.Inside the small, warm living room, Martha Vance paused mid-stride, setting her knitting needles down on the coffee table. She was fifty-eight, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a neat bun, her face etched with the quiet resilience of a woman who had spent decades keeping secrets to keep her daughter alive.When she opened the door, she kept the heavy brass chain latched.“Can I help you?” Martha asked, her eyes scanning the sharp suit and immaculate posture of the man standing in the hallway.“Mrs. Vance,” Dupont said softly, bowing his head with immaculate European courtesy. “My name is Dupont. I represent a private interest from Geneva, Switze

Julianna didn't cry. She didn't faint, nor did she feel a warm rush of sisterly affection.Instead, a suffocating wave of ice swept through her veins as she stared at the side-by-side comparison on the glowing monitor.For twenty-nine years, Julianna de la Tour had been the solitary crown jewel of the St. Laurent dynasty. She had bled for her position, working eighty-hour weeks, mastering corporate restructuring, and enduring her grandfather’s rigorous expectations to ensure the family empire would one day be hers alone.Now, looking at the dark-haired woman in the bakery window, Julianna felt her absolute control slipping away.Emma Vance.Julianna scrolled through the attached dossier, her dark eyes scanning her twin's achievements with mounting hostility. Emma hadn't just survived, she was managing a fifty-million-dollar infrastructure fund, quietly strangling American conglomerates, and earning the silent admiration of Baron Henri himself.Grandfather isn't just investigating her,

The emergency board meeting at Whitmore Holdings didn't end with a vote; it dissolved into a public war.When Adrian walked into the glass-walled conference room wearing a sharp navy suit, his posture straight and his eyes entirely clear, Victoria’s face drained of color. He sat at the head of the table beside Eleanor, produced his original prenuptial agreement, and formally blocked Victoria from pledging a single Hartwell land title to her European creditors.By three o'clock that afternoon, the confrontation had moved from the boardroom to the top-floor office."You pathetic, spineless coward!" Victoria screamed, slamming her leather handbag onto the mahogany desk. "I spent the last six months trying to keep your family's dying name relevant, and you march in here acting like a savior?"Adrian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his hands casually tucked into his trouser pockets. He looked at her not with anger, but with a cold, piercing detachment that unsettled her far more tha