Novels by Arthea Edelweis

The boardroom of Everhart Holdings’ Manhattan office was quiet.The lights were dimmed, the windows drawn against the glare of the afternoon sun. At the far end of the long glass table, Javier sat alone, hands folded, gaze fixed forward.Across from him sat Emerson Routh—Senior Advisor, ten-year board member, and the man Javier had once trusted to carry sensitive contracts when he didn’t want them traced through his own name.Now, Javier stared at him like one might look at a locked vault that had just been found pried open.“I assume you’ve read the report,” Javier said.Emerson adjusted his blazer, trying to mask his nervousness behind a forced chuckle. “I’ve read several this morning, Javier. You’ll need to be more specific.”Javier tilted his head, as if quietly admiring the courage it took to lie so boldly.“The signature on the breach matched a biometric ID tied to one of the private accounts in Zurich,” Javier said. “An account only three people had access to. Myself. My wife.

The air in the room thickened as Clara stepped farther inside, her heels muted against the carpet. Her composure was nearly flawless—shoulders squared, chin held high, eyes sharp behind delicate glasses—but Javier had long since learned that poise was often the first mask worn by a liar.She didn’t offer a handshake.“I know what it looks like,” Clara began. “But you’re wrong.”Valeria narrowed her eyes. Garrick remained standing near the screen, visibly unsure whether to sit or run.Javier didn’t blink. “Do I look surprised?”Clara hesitated for just half a beat. “You always look unreadable. That’s part of your charm, isn’t it?”“Charm is for people trying to win something,” Javier replied calmly. “You’re here to negotiate. So say what you came to say.”Clara took a seat across from him, folding one leg over the other. “You’re not going to find Roland. Not unless I give him to you.”“Bold of you to assume I need your help to find a man who’s already hiding under your instructions.”H

Javier stood still, eyes fixed on the man who had just burst into the ballroom. The room was deathly silent except for the heavy breathing of the IT security officer who had delivered the news. Javier didn’t move. He didn’t flinch.“What exactly was wiped?” he asked, his voice even and quiet, but sharp enough to silence the whispers building in the crowd.The man swallowed hard. “Everything from the Langston Vault backup. Financials. Signed digital agreements. The entire chain of board correspondence. Gone. Not deleted—scrubbed. It wasn’t a virus—it was human.”Mr. Garrick stepped down from the stage, his expression tightening. “But that server wasn’t connected to the internet. It was air-gapped. No outside access.”“It wasn’t accessed from outside,” the IT officer said. “It was breached from inside. Someone with your internal encryption keys.”Garrick’s face paled.Javier said nothing. He turned, calmly scanning the ballroom. His eyes swept over every guest, every supposed ally, ever

The golden ballroom of the Seraphine Hotel shimmered beneath crystal chandeliers, casting reflections across champagne glasses and polished marble floors. Laughter, fake smiles, and the sound of soft jazz mingled in the air—typical of a high-society charity gala meant to impress, not inspire.Javier Everhart walked in unnoticed.As always, he wore a simple dark-gray suit—well-cut, but not flashy. No designer logo, no name tag, no entourage. He moved quietly past socialites, government donors, and business tycoons who barely spared him a glance.A waiter nearly bumped into him at the entrance.“Oh—watch it, sir,” the man said, sneering. “You’re not valet, are you?”Javier gave a

The room darkened as the monitors blinked out. For a split second, all Javier and Valeria could hear was the faint hum of electricity rerouting. The Everhart estate had gone silent. Too silent.Javier didn’t panic.He stepped back from the now-dead holographic screen and looked to Valeria. Her expression was sharp, eyes alert, every instinct in her ready for war."They triggered a silent disruption virus," Javier said calmly. "It was embedded inside the server backdoor—someone had access weeks ago. This wasn’t spur of the moment."Valeria grabbed a nearby tablet and opened the auxiliary control panel. "We can still reroute through the Everhart satellite relay. It’s off-grid."Javier nodded. "Do it. I’ll initiate the isolation protocol. We’re cutting them out of the mainframe."Her fingers moved fast, typing command lines and authorization codes while Javier moved to a backup terminal embedded behind the painting of a forest valley on the gala wall. A hidden panel popped open, revealin

Javier didn’t flinch.He studied the photo on his phone again, eyes narrowing only slightly at the shadowed figure near the front door of his private estate. The timestamp had already ticked thirty seconds past. Whoever had taken the photo wanted him to panic.He slipped the phone back into his pocket, straightened the cuffs of his suit, and calmly turned to Valeria.“We’re not going home.”Valeria blinked. “But—”“If they expected me to bolt,” Javier said, his voice low and razor-steady, “then the house is already compromised. Running there now would only play into their hand.”He turned toward his lead security advisor, a man named Rourke, who had blended quietly into the crowd since the gala began. “Activate protocol O-3. Blackout mode. Get every feed, every drone, every sensor at the estate live and reporting.”Rourke’s brow lifted slightly. “You’re sure you want to initiate O-3? That locks out internal staff.”“If anyone is still inside,” Javier said without emotion, “they’re not

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