Hidden Heartbeat: A Billionaire Romance

The boardroom fell silent.

Twenty pairs of eyes followed Josephine Patel as she placed a thick black folder on the polished oak table.

"You've all been wondering why I called this

emergency meeting," she said, her voice calm enough to make the silence uncomfortable. "I'll make it simple."

She opened the folder.

"Someone on this board has stolen millions from Patel Group."

The room exploded with whispers.

One director laughed nervously.

Another reached for his water.

Mr. Chen's pen stopped tapping.

Josephine noticed everything.

She always did.

At twenty-six, she was the youngest CEO in Patel Group's history, but no one in this room had ever mistaken her for inexperienced twice.

The first time had cost them.

The second would cost them more.

A silver-haired director cleared his throat.

"Ms. Patel... those are serious accusations."

"They are."

"And your evidence?"

Josephine nodded toward her assistant.

A stack of financial reports landed in front of every board member.

"I've already completed the audit."

Silence.

Pages turned.

Faces changed.

Someone cursed under their breath.

Then came the question she'd been waiting for.

"Where's Mr. Conner?"

Josephine folded her hands. "Exactly."

Four hours earlier

Josephine woke before sunrise, as she always did. Twenty minutes later she was dressed in tailored black trousers, a crisp white blouse, and diamond studs that reminded her of the promise she'd made to her father: never let Patel Group fall. Coffee could wait. The market couldn't.

The apartment was silent. Mom called it “too quiet for a 26-year-old,” but Josephine liked it. No roommates to judge her 5:00 AM alarms. No boyfriend to ask why she checked stocks before coffee. Just her, the city, and the weight of a name she didn’t choose but refused to fail.

Josephine Patel was the only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Patel, owners of the multinational Patel Group. As sole heir, she carried herself with confidence and elegance, drawing attention wherever she went—attention she’d learned to use. She’d learned it at 19, when a vendor called her “sweetheart” and raised his price 30%. She smiled, wore the diamond studs her dad gave her, and cut his contract in half. He never called her sweetheart again. Now men called her “Ms. Patel” and checked their tone twice. But the company had bled money for three quarters, and she intended to find out why.

Patel Group cast a shadow over three blocks. Her father built it with two loans and a war debt. If she lost it, 4,000 employees lost paychecks. Her mother would never say it, but Josephine saw it in her eyes last Sunday: Don’t let them take it.

At Patel roup her driver opened the car door. Staff bowed as she crossed the lobby, her heels clicking against marble. She didn’t break stride until she reached the boardroom.

Present time

More whispers. Another board member leaned forward. “Are you accusing Mr. Conner of embezzlement?”

" Yes. I am.” Josephine replied confidently.

Shock rippled around the table. A woman near the end snapped, “Ms. Patel, you can’t level that accusation without proof?”

" Proof?” Josephine said firmly. " Those documents are proof enough they are records of Mr. Conner’s illegal transfers. Review them. Run your own audit if you want but it won't change the fact that it was him and he is going to regret ever crossing me.”

Pages rustled. Heads shook. Mr. Chen’s jaw tightened. He’d voted against her promotion last year. Mrs. Liu still wouldn’t meet her eyes. Guilty, or just scared? Josephine catalogued every flinch.

Someone muttered, “What do we do now?”

“I’ll keep digging and update you,” Josephine said. “As for Mr. Conner, I’ll handle him personally.”

She stood. The meeting was over.

She didn’t exhale until the elevator doors closed. Only then did her hands shake. Conner wasn’t just stealing money. He was stealing the thing her father built. The thing her mother missed galas to balance. If she couldn’t stop it, she didn’t deserve the name Patel.

She left for her parents’ house, needing to tell them what she’d found.

The elevator numbers bled down: 43, 42, 41. Josephine watched them without blinking. Her reflection in the steel doors was a stranger. Mouth set. Shoulders square. Hands finally still.

Ding.

The elevator stopped at the Lobby. Her driver was already at the curb, car idling. She walked towards him.

“Patel House,” she said.

He didn’t answer. The door shut with a solid thunk.

Her phone lit up her assistant: Chen asked for the files. Said it was ' urgent for compliance '.

Josephine typed: Tell Chen compliance starts with showing up to meetings. Don't give him the files. She ended the call and looked at buildings passing by in passing by in a blur.

' I don't trust him either. Conner can't be working alone. There must be someone else with him and I'm going to find out who ' Josephine thought .

Chapter 2

Josephine arrived at her parents’ house, unsure what she’d find. Retired, yet they always seemed busy. It made her curious. The gates opened before she rang the bell. They were expecting her.

She found them in the living room, TV on but muted. CNN, stock ticker running. Good. That meant they had time. And they’d been watching the market. They knew.

Her mother stood the second she walked in. “Josephine, sweetheart! How are you?” Mrs. Patel, late fifties and still elegant in linen, pulled her into a hug. She smelled like Chanel No. 5 and the lavender sachets she kept in every drawer. The same scent as Josephine’s childhood.

“I’m fine, Mom. How are you and Dad?” Josephine hugged her back, but her spine didn’t unclench. Not here. Not yet.

“We’re well, as you can see.” They settled in — her mother beside her father on the sofa, Josephine in the armchair across. Her father muted the TV. The silence felt staged.