All Chapters of Sudden Billionaire Heiress After Divorce : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Brandon's POVThe stakeholder’s meeting is an event that occurs only once a year. It is crucial for every business entity to move forward, as the stakeholders must convene to discuss the way ahead for their companies. It’s a time when decisions that will shape the future of the organization are made, and no stone is left unturned. This is why, twelve hours after the interview session with NTN television, I find myself meticulously dressed in a sharp, dark Italian suit and tie, heading straight to the meeting. My heart races a bit, not because I’m unprepared, but because every stakeholder meeting is a battlefield where ideas clash, egos are tested, and only the best strategies survive. I’ve attended many of these, yet the tension never fades.Similarly, Alessandra, with her usual grace and poise, has gone to her company to handle their stakeholder meeting as well. She’s as dedicated to her business as I am to mine. It’s one of the things I admire most about her—her relentless drive and

Diana’s POVThe door creaks open, and Jeruel steps back into the dimly lit room after being gone for what feels like an eternity. She’s been out for hours, searching for that person who can help us with this very delicate task. As she enters, a shadow falls across the threshold, followed by a familiar face.It's him—a young boy who’s a constant presence on the streets. I’ve seen him countless times, curled up in a grimy corner, scavenging through dumpsters for scraps, just trying to survive. He’s thin, with hollow cheeks and eyes that have seen far too much for someone so young.“Aren’t you Harry?” I ask, my voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. I need to be sure. I need to confirm what I already suspect. The boy looks up at me, his eyes wide but steady, and nods.

Alessandra’s POVThat evening, I promise to make Brandon a special dinner, a way to celebrate our survival, our love, and the simple fact that we are still standing together, despite everything.We laugh as we plan the meal, a lighthearted moment that feels like a much-needed breath of fresh air. A few minutes later, I head to the kitchen, dismissing the chefs for the night. I want this to be personal, just for him, so I begin preparing his favorite dish, pouring my love into every slice, every stir.But as soon as I step into the kitchen, the air shifts—something terrible is about to happen.Suddenly, flashing lights flood our yard, and the sound of sirens pierces the night. I freeze, my heart pounding. Outside, police cars swarm the driveway, their lights reflecting off the windows like ominous beacons. Officers are everywhere, their voices booming as they call out Brandon’s name.My mind races. Why are they here? Why are they calling for my husband as if he were some kind of crimina

Sandra’s POVMy head pounds with a blinding headache as if a thousand drums are beating inside my skull. My vision is blurred, the world around me reduced to a haze of shadow and pain. Slowly, I force myself to raise my head from the cold, hard floor. I can barely make out the figure of a man seated in a chair just a few feet away from me, his silhouette sharp against the dim light of this dark, cavernous place.The chair he’s sitting on is simple—a study chair—but there’s something ominous about how he occupies it. The entire place feels like a warehouse, vast and empty, with darkness stretching into every corner, threatening to swallow me whole. The air is thick with the scent of tobacco, mingling with the metallic tang of blood—my blood.“You are Sandra Puppet?”His voice is calm, unnervingly so. There’s no malice, no anger—just a detached, almost clinical curiosity. It’s as if he’s asking my name to confirm something he already knows. I blink, trying to clear my vision, and manage

Jezebel’s POVI’ve been treated at the nearest hospital, but if I let this personal assistant slip away now, then I’m not the Jezebel everyone thinks I am.The doctor finishes up, wiping his hands as he says, “There you go, ma’am. You’re free to leave now.”I flash him a polite smile, but my mind is already elsewhere. My fingers tighten around the personal assistant’s arm, my nails digging into his sleeve as I anchor him beside me.The room is cold and sterile, yet I feel the heat of the moment. Matriarch Alessandra sits across from us, her silence dominating the room. When I grip her assistant’s arm, I catch the flash of surprise in her eyes, the slight parting of her lips. She wasn’t expecting this.“I still feel pain in my leg,” I say, my voice tinged with just enough distress to sound convincing. “It’s much worse than I thought. I don’t think I can walk.”Alessandra’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as she watches me closely, trying to figure me out. Let her think I’m putting on an ac