Semua Bab Billionaire's Regrets:He Hurt Me But Wants Me Back: Bab 21 - Bab 30

Dwight’s POVThe drive to the workshop is long, stretching into the quiet hours of the night—three hours of open roads, highways, and too much time alone with my thoughts.I keep my hands steady on the wheel, but my mind drifts back to the conversation with Leah. Her words had been sharp, precise, cutting through whatever illusions I might have let myself entertain."We are strictly boss and employee now. Nothing more.""I'm in a relationship with a man I love with all my heart."The truth had never been clearer, yet it sat heavy in my chest.By the time I pull up in front of the workshop, the place is alive with activity. Unlike the last one I visited, this space is much larger, its high ceilings and reinforced glass panels allowing natural light to spill in during the day. The scent of molten metal and polish hangs thick in the air, the rhythmic sound of hammering echoing from within.This division is one of the newest, located outside the city—one of many I own across multiple coun

Leah’s POVI don’t know how I make it back to my desk. One moment, I’m in Dwight’s office, frozen, watching Maya Kingston kiss him. The next, I’m sitting in my chair, staring blankly at my computer screen, unable to process a single word.My fingers hover over my keyboard, but I can’t type. My mind keeps replaying the scene over and over—the way she stood so close to him, the way her hand brushed against his collar, the effortless confidence in her movements. And then, the kiss.I tell myself it doesn’t matter.But it does.A man like Dwight is never alone for long. He’s powerful, wealthy, and effortlessly attractive. Women have always gravitated toward him. Why would that change now?Why would he change?Still, a small part of me wonders—is this because of me?I shake my head, annoyed at myself. The thought is absurd. Dwight doesn’t need my rejection to move on. If he’s with someone, it has nothing to do with me.Or does it?I groan, pressing my palms against my temples. This is ridi

Dwight’s POVI still can’t believe Leah barged into my office like that.It was reckless, unprofessional, and completely out of line. And yet, no matter how much I tell myself that, I can’t shake the look on her face when she saw Maya.That flicker of hurt—so brief I almost missed it. Almost.I rub a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. This shouldn’t bother me. Leah has Ethan now. She’s made that choice, moved on, built a life without me. So why did she look like that? And why does it still sit heavy in my chest?I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.Maya.Last night with her had been easy. No tension, no games, no messy history weighing us down. Just two people enjoying each other’s company, no second-guessing. She’s sharp, confident, and refreshingly direct. She knows exactly what she wants and doesn’t hesitate to say it.She isn’t looking for something temporary.She wants a man who’s stable, dependable—someone who won’t waste her time.And I respect that.More than tha

Leah’s POVI stand in front of my closet, fingers trailing over the rows of perfectly pressed dresses.Pick your best.That’s what my father would expect.Anything less would be unacceptable.I exhale, stepping back slightly, my gaze sweeping over the meticulously organized space. Silks, chiffons, structured pieces in neutral tones—each one carefully selected, curated, and arranged. I know what he would say if I picked something too bold, too informal, too much like me.I finally settle on a sleek, dark green dress. It hugs my figure just right—elegant, refined, sophisticated. The kind of dress that doesn’t invite criticism.I slip it on, the cool fabric settling against my skin like armor.Next, my hair.I sink into the chair before my vanity, staring at the soft curls framing my face.Once, I had loved my curls.Wild and untamed, they had always felt like the truest expression of myself. Something uniquely mine. But my father had once told me, in his usual matter-of-fact tone, that

Dwight's POVI lean back against the couch, one hand gripping my phone, the other swirling a glass of whiskey I haven’t taken a sip from yet. The city lights spill in through the tall windows of my apartment, casting a warm glow over the room. I exhale, listening as Maya’s voice fills my ear, light and effortless.“…So, of course, he tried to object, but the judge just looked at him like he was an idiot,” she says with a chuckle. “I swear, Dwight, the defense attorney was this close to getting held in contempt.”I smirk, shaking my head. “I don’t know how you deal with people like that every day.”“Easy,” she says. “I win.”I let out a low laugh, finally taking a sip of my drink. Maya is sharp—unapologetically so. Talking to her is easy. Entertaining. I’ve never been one for small talk, but with her, the conversations never feel forced.I should have done this months ago and not subjected my heart to hurt and hate. Talking to someone, getting to know how their day was, and telling the