บททั้งหมดของ My Billionaire’s Redemption : บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Elena’s POVI turned to Victor, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions building inside me. “Victor, please excuse us.”His brows furrowed. “What?”“I need to hear what Alexander has to say,” I said firmly, trying to keep my voice neutral.Victor scoffed, his eyes darting between me and Alexander. “You really want to listen to him?” He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “After everything?”Alexander crossed his arms, glaring at Victor. “This doesn’t concern you, Langley. Step outside. You do not even have the slightest bit of shame.”Victor’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. Instead, he exhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto mine. “Fine. I’ll be right outside and if you need Elena, let me know.” He shot Alexander one last look before stepping out, closing the door behind himAlexander shot back “She doesn’t need you, moron “.I yelled “Enough Alexander !”“That bastard is a traitor Elena, and of all people, why him “ he said softly “I don’t know

The office was silent for a moment, the weight of my words hanging between us. Mr. Greenwood leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on me as he processed what I had just said. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest before he finally spoke.“My support?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “Support for what, exactly? And how do you think I can help you?”I folded my hands on the desk, my expression unreadable. “I need your influence. Your connections. I know you have access to legal channels that I don’t, people who can prove beyond doubt that Spears Manufacturing was responsible for what happened to my parents’ company.”Mr. Greenwood exhaled, shaking his head. “Alexander, it’s been years, almost two decades if I’m correct. What exactly do you hope to achieve by digging this all up again? Even if you are certain that Spears Manufacturing had a hand in it, what then? What do you truly want?”I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the desk. “I want the truth. I want j

A slow smirk pulled at Mr. Greenwood’s lips. “Well, well,” he mused, stepping aside slightly. “George Spears. You haven’t changed after all these years. Still just as uptight, I see.”George’s stance remained stiff, his expression unreadable. He made no move to step inside. Instead, his hands remained in the pockets of his long coat, his dark eyes scanning Mr. Greenwood’s face as though he were trying to see past the surface, past the false pleasantries.“If you have something to say to me, say it here,” George said, his voice even but firm. “There’s no need for any formalities.”Mr. Greenwood chuckled, a low, amused sound. “Come now, George. Surely we’re not going to stand at the door like old enemies. We’re not enemies, are we?”George’s jaw tightened. “That depends on what you called me here for Stones.”Mr. Greenwood sighed, shaking his head as if he were dealing with a stubborn child. “You always were difficult. But I suppose I expected that.” He stepped back fully, opening the d

(Elena’s POV)I arrived at the private lounge a few minutes before Alexander. The place was dimly lit, intimate, and quiet—exactly the kind of setting I wanted for this conversation.I exhaled sharply, running my fingers along the edge of the polished table. This meeting wasn’t supposed to feel so nerve-wracking, but knowing Alexander’s and our current situation, things wouldn’t go smoothly.And then I felt it—the weight of his presence before I even saw him.I looked up just as Alexander stepped in, effortlessly commanding the room. Well dressed as usual, His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable, as he made his way toward me.“You picked a nice place,” he said, settling into the seat across from me. His voice was calm, but there was something behind it—something tense.I crossed my arms. “I wanted privacy. The last time we spoke, we got interrupted.”He leaned back slightly, observing me. “Right. And now you finally want to finish that conversation?”I hesitated for a second b

The tension in the room was suffocating. My heart pounded violently in my chest as I stared at my father, his words echoing in my head.“It’s about your mother.”I felt my breath hitch. What about Mom? What could possibly be so important that he had to sit me down like this? A lump formed in my throat, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress as I tried to steady my racing mind.“Dad,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “What about Mom?”He exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples as if bracing himself for a storm. “Let’s sit down first. We need to talk properly.”I wanted to scream. I wanted him to get to the point and stop prolonging whatever this was, but he turned toward the kitchen counter, moving with a deliberate slowness that made me restless. The gas stove was still on, a pot of food bubbling softly. My father reached over, turned off the flame, and grabbed two plates.“I’m not hungry anymore Dad” I muttered, barely able to process the thought of eating when my nerves were stretc