All Chapters of Billionaire's Regrets:He Hurt Me But Wants Me Back: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Leah’s POV The email comes in just after 9 a.m.—a crisp, no-frills message from HR with the subject line: Immediate Resumption – Glimmr Project Office. There’s no warm welcome. No “we’re glad to have you back.” Just a directive and a timestamp: report to your office by 8 a.m. Sharp.The letter is signed by the Head of Human Resources.I stare at the screen, heart thudding in a rhythm that feels far more victorious than anxious.This—this is what I wanted. Not the cold email, though. Not the silent return. But the chance. The opportunity to finish what I started. To fix what I had broken as a result of being unable to manage my emotions.The task had been eventful. I should never have allowed Dwight's actions—or inactions in this case—to dictate my own actions. I shouldn't have dignified his nonchalance like that. But I did. And I was returning to fix that.I think of Father and all the ways he's trying to compensate for his absence and emotional unavailability. Even though there are

Leah's POVThe air outside the restaurant is cooler than it was when I arrived. Crisp night wind teases at the strands of hair that slipped from the clip at the back of my head. I don't bother fixing them. I cross the street without looking back. No need to. That conversation with Uncle Gerald is already burned into my brain. His voice. His carefully chosen words. The quiet desperation he tried to hide. It lingers, echoes under my skin like a bruise waiting to darken.I flag down a cab, and it pulls up promptly. Slipping inside, I rattle off my address to the driver and sink into the seat, resting my head briefly against the window. The city blurs past, a kaleidoscope of light and motion, but none of it touches me. I’m still stuck at that table, watching his eyes flicker with guilt and fear and something else. Something I can’t name.The ride is short. I tip the driver, then make my way into my building, heels clicking against the marble floor. The doorman offers me a polite nod, and

Ethan's POV The morning air bites through my shirt as I shove the door closed behind me. I haven’t changed clothes since yesterday—hell, maybe even the day before. The collar of my shirt is creased, and the cuffs are stiff with old sweat. The same slacks cling to me like a second skin, and I’m sure I smell like whiskey and unwashed dreams.But I don’t care.I just needed to get out of that damn house.The walls were closing in again. Same walls, same ceiling, same silence—broken only by the ticking of a clock I should’ve smashed weeks ago. The whiskey stain on the carpet had stared mockingly at me, reminding me of my loss of self-control. Reminding me of how I'd further messed up everything.When all this blew over, what was I going to do with Maria? I couldn't have her report me to the authorities. I couldn't bear seeing my name on the news. Being described as a creep. I wasn't a creep. I wasn't an assailant or whatever choice of words Maria would tell them. I had simply lost contro

DWIGHT POVShe’s not herself.I knew it the moment she walked into the conference room. Leah always carried herself with a kind of self-assured grace, even when she was fuming, even when her eyes flashed with the heat of an argument. But today… she looked like a version of herself that had been dimmed. Her blouse was slightly wrinkled—unlike her. Her makeup, though minimal, didn’t quite conceal the shadows under her eyes. And the way she kept staring at the same spot on the table like she could bore a hole through it? Yeah, something was off.I told myself not to care. Reminded myself of the promises I’d made in Greece—to keep my distance, to let her do her job, and to stop letting my feelings cloud my judgment. But logic only goes so far when emotion’s been given a seat at the table.She barely said a word throughout the meeting. Gave vague nods, offered clipped feedback, and didn’t catch even one of Jordan’s exaggerated eye rolls. That, more than anything, told me something was wron

Dwight's POV The moment I hang up Leah’s call, I’m already halfway out the door.I don’t think. I just move.The city blurs past as I tear through the streets like a man possessed. I don't care how many traffic laws I break or how many horns blare at me in protest. Leah is scared—and for good reason. And I'm not going to waste another damn second.I should’ve pushed harder today at the office. I knew something was wrong. The way she sat through that meeting, eyes vacant, her usual fire smothered under whatever weight she was carrying. I told myself to keep my distance, told myself it wasn’t my place anymore after she insisted she was fine.Maybe I was just a stupid coward who was afraid of digging deeper.And now here I am, racing through the night because a car was parked too long outside her window and she’s scared out of her mind.The last time this happened, it was me being hunted. Stalked. Dragged into the dark.And now they’ve moved on to her.I clench my jaw so tight it aches.