Called Off the Wedding, Left Him Bankrupt novel Chapter 216

“Benedict, I know I was wrong. Please, forgive me.”

Benedict’s expression darkened as he replied quietly, “Giselle, I’ve made myself clear. This just isn’t the right time for our child. We have no choice but to let him go.”

He paused, voice low and firm. “VistaSphere Group is at a crucial stage right now. If you keep making a scene, I really won’t be able to help you anymore.”

Tears stained Giselle’s eyes a deep red. She pressed herself against Benedict’s chest, sobbing quietly.

It was all Cynthia’s fault.

If she hadn’t stirred up trouble and jeopardized VistaSphere Group, Benedict wouldn’t have had to make this decision.

...

After leaving VistaSphere Group’s headquarters, Cynthia called Dominic.

He was probably still at work, but if she drove straight over to Holloway Enterprises’ Cloudcrest City branch, she’d make it in time.

The call connected almost instantly.

Dominic’s deep voice came through the line. “What’s up?”

Eyes fixed on the road ahead, Cynthia stated her purpose. “Mr. Holloway, are you off work yet? I’m on my way to the branch office and thought it’d be a good time to discuss VistaSphere Group.”

Dominic’s tone was low and decisive. “I’ve already left for the day. Come to my place instead—we can talk there.”

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. Weren’t his workdays supposed to be packed? Why was he home so early?

When she didn’t answer right away, Dominic added, voice calm, “I’ll wait for you.”

He ended the call before she could respond.

With no other choice, Cynthia changed directions and headed toward Dominic’s apartment.

She pulled up outside his building, where a young, sharp-looking security guard jogged over to her car.

Cynthia was about to hand over her ID for the usual check-in, but the guard glanced at her license plate, then spoke into his radio to have the barrier lifted.

As the gate rose, Cynthia hesitated for a moment. Places like this usually required a formal check-in—how was she being waved through so easily?

The security guard caught her puzzled expression and smiled politely. “Mr. Holloway let us know you’d be coming.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Cynthia’s face. What was today—Dominic actually cooking for himself?

No answer came, so she instinctively searched the entryway for shoe covers. Finding none, her eyes landed on a brand-new pair of women’s slippers.

She stared at them for a few seconds, hesitating. Clearly, these were meant for the lady of the house.

She was just his employee—it didn’t feel right to use something so personal.

With no shoe covers or slippers in her size, Cynthia decided to just go barefoot.

“Mr. Holloway…” she called again, poking her head into the kitchen.

Inside, a man in a crisp white chef’s uniform was focused on his work.

So, Dominic wasn’t the one cooking after all.

Makes sense, Cynthia thought. A man like him—wealthy, refined, used to the finer things—he probably wouldn’t be caught dead sweating over a stove.

Which was a relief. If Dominic was not only rich and handsome but also a culinary genius, what hope would anyone else have of measuring up?