Page 87 of The Billionaire's Betrayal
An anxious silence settled.He raised a crucial point: the next fundraising round would be decisive.The slightest sign of instability in Community Pilot's governance risked undermining investor confidence and compromising the fundraising.
I took a second to formulate my response.The shadow of doubt still hung over some faces.
"You're absolutely right to raise this point.Resuming negotiations has been a challenge.Some investors were concerned about Tristan's absence and doubted our ability to meet our commitments.We had to fight, multiply exchanges, prove with figures, with facts, that Community Pilot remained a solid investment."
I scanned the room, fixing them one by one.
"But today, we've managed to dispel these fears.I personally reconnected with each key investor.I listened to their reservations, responded point by point to their doubts.We adjusted our strategy to strengthen their support and guarantee them total transparency.And it paid off.Little by little, we regained their confidence."
The board member who had raised the question slowly nodded.
"Do you think the fundraising can materialize on schedule?"
I held his gaze firmly.
"I'm convinced of it."
Silence greeted my response, then a satisfied smile appeared on some faces.
"That's excellent news," the board member approved."Well done!"
His voice resonated with quiet conviction, and several heads nodded.The tension eased, but I knew nothing was certain.Now I had to secure signatures from future investors, including Area Venture.
53.Love is a choice
TRISTAN
My body was healing little by little.The headaches, once so violent they would nail me to my bed for hours, were becoming more bearable and less frequent.My concentration was slowly returning, like a sore muscle you're learning to use again.I could finally focus on simple tasks without being immediately overwhelmed by the fatigue that had brought me to my knees.My mind was gradually regaining the clarity needed to process information efficiently.
After weeks of battling pain and exhaustion, I was slowly taking back control of my life.This progress, though slow, offered me immense comfort.But most importantly, it allowed me to focus on what truly mattered: winning Eva back.
At first, I had set simple goals for myself that didn't require complex reasoning.My mother suggested I learn to cook with her personal chef, and the idea of preparing meals for Eva thrilled me.My heart swelled with anticipation at the thought of her surprised expressions.It was through doing this that I understood a reality that had escaped me: preparing a meal for those you love is an act of love, a silent offering.
Since then, each of our meals took on deeper meaning.It was a moment of sharing and rediscovered complicity.In the evenings, we would snuggle against each other to watch a movie or series together, but our favorite moments were our rambling conversations.Those instances where our voices mingled in the dim light reminded me why I had fallen in love with her.
I even managed to return to work for a few hours.I rediscovered the pleasure of collaborating with Eva, and I marveled at the constructive dynamic that was being reborn between us.Her sharp intelligence, her creativity, her way of taking on my professional challenges with that passion that lit up her eyes...It was a shame it had taken going through so many trials to remind me of this.
Guilt was eating away at me.Too caught up in my financial empire, I had forgotten to nurture my relationship with Eva.It was crazy how pride can blind us sometimes.I had so neglected my relationship with Eva that I had let Audrey slip between us.That thought made my stomach turn.But that was over now.Community Pilot, my mother, my social obligations – all of that now took a back seat.
I devoted all my energy to making Eva happy.I showered her with gifts, seeking anything that might please her or catch her eye.Every day, a piece of jewelry from Cartier, a Hermès bag, or custom-made clothing awaited her.Our penthouse now overflowed with sculptures by artists she admired.It wasn't guilt that motivated my actions, but I had realized during my wanderings just how rare and precious what we had was, and that it needed to be nurtured.
At first, Eva protested against my excesses, then she ended up laughing about them.
"You're impossible, Tristan!If you keep this up, we won't have any room left in the house."
"Then I'll buy you a bigger house," I replied, my heart light from hearing her laugh.
"A house?When we work right in the heart of Paris?"
In the evenings, I made her travel through my cooking.On weekends, I surprised her by taking her on trips to Ibiza, Prague, or Istanbul.We laughed a lot.Those bursts of laughter were like balm on my wounded soul.
Despite all this, I felt that a major dark spot remained, like a shadow over our rediscovered happiness.We weren't making love.Despite a few kisses exchanged, we were living like simple roommates.At night, we slept in separate bedrooms.At first, my health problems had prevented me from wanting anything else.But as I healed, my heart and body became increasingly insistent, demanding the presence and tenderness of my companion.
Every night was torture.Every day, I dreamed of feeling the warmth of her body against mine, of finding comfort in her arms again, of intoxicating myself with her perfume.Frustration was eating away at me like poison.This situation couldn't continue.It was hurting both of us.My heart pounded in my chest every time I caught her gaze.
Tonight, I couldn't take it anymore.We had to talk.
"Eva, we can’t keep going this way, we need to talk," I said, my voice rougher than I would have liked."I need to get my partner back, to hold you in my arms, to make love to you.Tell me what I need to do to regain your trust.What do I have to do for you to give me a real second chance?"
