All Chapters of The Billionaire's Deal : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Elizabeth's point of view: I couldn’t imagine living under the same roof as this man. Why in God’s name was he even suggesting it? "That’s final!" I hated those words. I hated how he gave me no choice, how he acted as though his word was law. My glare burned into him as he returned to his computer, completely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just demanded the most ridiculous thing ever. "If you keep staring like that, your eyes might fall out," he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Look at it this way," Richard continued, his tone light, almost persuasive. "I’m saving you the time and stress of taking the train all the way here every day. I’d drive you to work and back, so you wouldn’t have to stay out late, and you’d save money." I narrowed my eyes. Was he… negotiating with me? Trying to make this sound like a reasonable, even beneficial arrangement? He wasn’t wrong. It would be more convenient. But none of that mattered—I didn’t want to live with him. Who knew what insane d

Richard's point of view: "She is insufferable!" I muttered, stepping into my office and switching on my computer. I had an app to design, deadlines to meet, and yet, somehow, Elizabeth had taken over every damn thought in my head. I opened my laptop, determined to work, but my mind refused to cooperate. 'What kind of person is she?" I leaned back in my chair, recalling her tantrums, her stubbornness, her ridiculous innocence. She wasn’t like anyone I had ever met—not even Laura. And that was the problem. I snapped my laptop shut and grabbed my phone, and dialed Maxwell. The second he picked up, I got straight to the point "I'm firing that guy." There was a pause before his groggy voice came through. "What guy?" I frowned, glancing at the time. Just past eleven. "Are you seriously sleeping at this hour?" Maxwell was a club guy. He didn't sleep this early. "Yes, and now I'm awake," he grumbled. "Who are you talking about?" "The nutritionist—the one you vouched for. He’s

Elizabeth’s Point of View I found myself smiling at their little banter while eating my meal. 'Maybe this might not be so bad after all,' I thought, for the first time feeling a hint of comfort in Richard’s house. Margaret had somehow managed to make the place feel homely. “I’m done. I need to get ready for work,” Richard announced after rushing through his meal. I watched as he rose to his feet, placed his plate in the dishwasher, and walked toward the door. But just before stepping out, he paused, turning back to me. “I hope you don’t think you’re going anywhere today,” he said, his tone firm. “I’m going to work,” I countered without hesitation. “You’re not. I already spoke to your office—you’ve been given the day off,” he stated firmly. I shook my head. “I don’t need it. I’m fine to go to work.” I was finally gaining real experience at the office, and with only two months left, I wanted to make the most of it. “You’re not going. That’s final.” His voice left no room f

Elizabeth's point of view: Inside the room was a nursery—an old, abandoned nursery with two baby cradles in the middle. The room was covered in dust, cobwebs stretched from corner to corner, making it clear no one had stepped foot in here for years. I took a step inside, and the moment I did, a sharp crack echoed through the air. I looked down to find shattered glass scattered across the floor, pieces of picture frames mixed with ripped-up notes, torn apart as if someone had wanted to erase them completely. If it wasn’t so old and dusty, the nursery would have been the most beautiful thing ever. It had promise once. Now, broken toys littered the floor—ripped bears missing their button eyes, cracked dolls with their stuffing spilling out, and pink star mobiles still hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly. But this place wasn’t just abandoned. It was ruined. Someone had deliberately trashed it. I found myself walking further, my curiosity pulling me in as I took everything in

Richard's perspective: (point of view): "Martin, cancel all my appointments for the day. I don’t think I’ll be coming in," I said, feeling an unexpected pull to stay home. "Understood, sir. But if I may remind you, the award ceremony is today. You’ve been nominated for Philanthropist of the Year again," Martin informed me. "Would you like me to send a representative to accept it on your behalf?" I leaned back in my seat, exhaling. "I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know before the event." Another award. Another ceremony. I’d received so many over the years that I was starting to lose count. The whole thing felt exhausting—endless speeches, handshakes, and hollow congratulations. None of it truly mattered. But this time, something felt different. For the first time in years, I was actually considering going. That is, if I could convince Elizabeth to come with me. "Should I inform your family?" Martin asked. I sighed. My mother and Beatrice always made sure to attend on my