Novels by Arthea Edelweis

The air snapped taut as every officer turned toward the source of the voice.A man strode into the station, his presence filling the cramped room like a storm breaking. His tailored suit, sharp and immaculate, gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. Behind him, two aides rushed in, phones pressed to their ears, their expressions pale.It was Deputy Mayor Ricardo Velasquez—a man whose name carried weight in every corner of the city.“What the hell are you doing manhandling citizens like criminals?” he thundered, his voice echoing against the concrete walls. His finger stabbed the air at the officers. “Do you even realize who you’ve just thrown into a cell?”The chief of the station stammered, his face draining of color. “D-Deputy Mayor, sir, there must be some misunderstanding. We were just—”“Misunderstanding?” Ricardo snapped, cutting him off. “I heard you mocked him, humiliated him, dragged him in like a dog. Is this how law enforcement operates under my watch?”The officers shi

The café was crowded, voices buzzing with mid-morning chatter. Javier stood in line, his hands tucked calmly in the pockets of his worn jacket.The cashier glanced at him briefly, then turned her eyes away with a curl of disdain. “Next,” she called sharply, addressing the man behind him instead.“I was here,” Javier said softly, his tone even, but the cashier rolled her eyes.“You can wait,” she snapped. “Customers with actual orders come first.”A low chuckle rippled from a group of young men lounging by the counter. “Look at him,” one muttered, loud enough for the room to hear. “Probably can’t even pay for a sandwich.”Valeria stiffened bes

“Numbers don’t lie, Javier,” murmured Adrian, the CFO, his eyes narrowing as he slid the quarterly report across the table. His fingers tapped impatiently, the sound sharp in the tense silence of the boardroom.“These drops aren’t natural,” the strategist whispered. Her expression was tight, lips pressed into a thin line.“It’s as if someone anticipated our moves,” Javier said softly. His gaze swept across the boardroom, lingering on each executive in silence.“Competitors don’t usually get this precise,” Valeria commented from her seat beside him. Her eyes carried both concern and suspicion.“The data leak is internal,” Adrian pressed firmly. His stare flicked toward Javier with an edge that was

Hands went up slowly around the table. First two, then four, until nearly half the board raised their arms.Adrian’s smile widened, arrogance dripping from every line of his face. “You see?” he declared, his voice triumphant.Valeria’s heart twisted in her chest. Rage burned in her veins as she saw men Javier had fed, guided, and elevated now betray him.Her lips parted, ready to unleash her fury, but Javier squeezed her hand beneath the table. His calm eyes silenced her instantly.Adrian stood taller, chest puffed with victory. “This is the beginning of new leadership. Leadership without shadows.”He looked directly at Javier, his smirk venomous. “Your silence has been mistaken for wisdom long e

The next week, the boardroom chatter shifted noticeably. Adrian moved like a serpent, his voice soft in private corners, his smile rehearsed.One by one, executives began to avoid Javier’s gaze. Their conversations quieted whenever he entered, their loyalty eroding with whispers.Valeria noticed immediately. “He’s poisoning them one at a time,” she muttered under her breath as they left another tense meeting.Javier’s expression remained calm. “The weak always look for a louder voice to follow,” he murmured. “Adrian gives them noise. I will give them silence—and truth.”But the whispers grew sharper. At lunch, two directors spoke within Valeria’s hearing. “The company bleeds while he waits. Maybe Adrian is right.”Valeria’s fists clenched beneath the tablecloth. “Careful,” she warned, her voice low but cutting. “You underestimate the man who built this empire.”The directors shifted uncomfortably, casting uneasy glances. But when they looked at Javier, he was serene, as though he hadn

Two days later, the board gathered in the marble-lined dining hall for a luncheon. Conversations buzzed with restrained hostility, eyes flicking toward Javier with poorly veiled suspicion.An executive with thinning hair leaned toward his neighbor. “A man without pedigree has no place at the helm,” he whispered just loud enough. His lips curled into a smirk, testing the waters.Valeria’s head snapped toward him instantly. “Say that again,” she demanded, her voice sharp enough to silence the table.The man paled, caught off guard by her sudden challenge. “M-Mrs. Solano, I didn’t—”“You did,” Valeria cut him off, her eyes blazing. “You questioned my husband’s place, and by extension, mine.”Murmurs rippled down the long table. Some executives shifted uncomfortably, others leaned forward with interest.Javier, seated beside her, reached for his glass of water with deliberate calm. His expression betrayed nothing, as if the storm belonged only to Valeria.“Do you think loyalty is measured

The ride back was silent. Not because they had nothing to say, but because words felt unnecessary.Elena sat beside Oliver in the car, her fingers resting lightly on her lap. She wasn’t shaking, wasn’t afraid anymore—but the weight of the night still pressed against her.Oliver drove with one hand on the wheel, his other resting on the console between them. His presence alone made her feel safe.After a while, Elena exhaled. “You’re too calm.”Oliver glanced at her, smirking. “Would you rather I panic?”She huffed. “I was kidnapped, Oliver.”“I noticed.”“Held hostage.”“I was there.”“Almost had my throat slit.”Oliver’s jaw tightened just slightly. “And I handled it.”Elena turned to him, studying his profile. His sharp jawline, his unwavering expression.“You always do,” she murmured.Oliver didn’t reply, but his fingers—resting between them—twitched.Elena hesitated, then slowly reached out, linking her pinky with his.Oliver’s hand stiffened for a brief moment.Then, he turned hi

"Mr. Roberts, we have a problem."Amelia’s voice was sharp over the phone. Oliver had just finished a business meeting when she called, and from the tension in her tone, he knew it wasn’t a minor issue.Oliver exhaled. "Speak."There was a brief pause before she dropped the bombshell."Elena’s been taken."Oliver stopped walking. His fingers tightened slightly around the phone. “Who?”Amelia hesitated. “A man named Vincent Moreau. French arms dealer. One of the last allies Harrington had left.”Oliver’s jaw clenched, but his voice remained calm. “His demands?”“He wants you to transfer fifty percent of Hoshier’s European assets to his name by midnight.”A mistake.Vincent Moreau had no idea who he was dealing with.Oliver inhaled slowly. “Where is she?”“We traced the call to a warehouse in the East District. It’s heavily guarded.”Oliver didn’t hesitate. “Send me the location.”“Sir, I can mobilize our team—”“No.” Oliver’s voice was sharp. “This is personal.”Amelia hesitated but ob

“You lost the moment you thought you could use her against me, Calloway.”Oliver’s voice was quiet, almost casual, yet every syllable carried the weight of an undeniable truth.Raymond struggled against Oliver’s grip, but it was useless. His body trembled—not from the physical pain, but from the realization sinking into his bones. He had never stood a chance.Oliver loosened his hold just enough for Raymond to breathe, but his next words made the man’s blood run cold.“Tell me, Calloway… how do you want this to end?”Raymond swallowed, his mind racing. He had no moves left. No allies. No escape.His last shred of arrogance faltered, replaced by raw desperation. “I—I was just following Harrington’s lead. He’s the one who—”Oliver let out a quiet exhale, cutting him off with a simple, measured sentence.“Harrington is already handled.”Raymond’s eyes widened. “What?”A soft buzzing noise filled the room. Oliver reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tilted the screen toward

Raymond’s hands trembled as he scrolled through the endless flood of news reports, each one spelling his doom in bold, damning headlines. His phone buzzed non-stop—calls from investors, board members, and desperate executives, all demanding answers he didn’t have.His breath came in short, sharp gasps. This wasn’t just an attack. This was an execution.His gaze snapped to Elliot Mercer, who remained seated, completely unfazed. The smirk on Elliot’s face sent a wave of rage coursing through Raymond’s veins.“You think this is funny?” Raymond’s voice was hoarse, barely above a growl. “You think I’m just going to sit here and let Oliver destroy me?”Elliot exhaled, setting his drink down with a quiet clink. He leaned back, crossing his legs leisurely. “Oh, you misunderstand, Calloway. It’s not about letting him destroy you. It’s about the fact that you can’t stop him.”Raymond slammed a fist against the bar. The few patrons around them turned to glance, sensing the tension but knowing be

Raymond sat frozen in his chair, his hands clenched into fists as the weight of his downfall pressed down on him like a mountain. His empire, his power—everything he had built over the years had crumbled in mere minutes.His phone buzzed again, and with shaky fingers, he picked it up. A flood of messages from his board members, investors, and executives filled the screen. They were panicking. Some demanded explanations, others threatened to withdraw their support. His assistant sent a message—Mr. Calloway, we need immediate damage control. The media is asking questions.Raymond’s vision blurred as rage bubbled inside him. All because of one man.Oliver Roberts.The name now echoed in his head like a curse.Raymond had underestimated him, just like everyone else had. He had seen Oliver as nothing more than a quiet, unremarkable businessman, someone who got lucky in the corporate world. But now, he understood the truth.Oliver was far from ordinary.Raymond sucked in a sharp breath and f

Raymond’s breath caught in his throat. His palms were damp, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk. Oliver Roberts was here. In his office.He barely had time to compose himself before the door swung open.Oliver walked in with the ease of a man who owned the building, despite the fact that it belonged to Raymond. He was calm, his dark eyes scanning the office without the slightest hint of urgency. He wasn’t here to negotiate. He was here to watch Raymond crumble.Raymond straightened in his chair, masking his nerves with arrogance. “Mr. Roberts,” he greeted coolly, though his voice wavered just enough to betray his unease.Oliver said nothing at first. He merely stepped closer, his gaze locking onto Raymond’s with the weight of something far more dangerous than anger—certainty.“You’ve been quite busy,” Oliver finally said, his tone casual.Raymond forced a smirk. “I like to stay informed about my competitors.”Oliver chuckled, the sound low and unimpressed. “Competitor?” He tilte