Novels by Arthea Edelweis

It was a quiet Tuesday morning when Javier Everhart stepped into the glass-walled lobby of The Crescent Club—a private investment circle notorious for accepting only the elite. The kind who wore arrogance like silk and couldn’t tell the difference between old money and earned power.Javier’s coat was the same. Simple. Grey. No designer logo. His shoes, though polished, had walked through more construction sites and factories than luxury ballrooms. He didn’t look like he belonged—and that was precisely the point.The receptionist, a young man with gel-slicked hair and a barely concealed smirk, looked up from behind the counter.“Deliveries are through the back entrance,” he said, not bothering to look twice.Javier’s eyes didn’t flicker. “I’m here for the investors’ roundtable.”The receptionist let out a short laugh. “Sir, this is a closed session. Only invited principals and managing partners. No observers or interns.”A few businessmen waiting near the elevators chuckled softly at t

Morning light filtered through the Everhart estate’s floor-to-ceiling windows, casting pale golden shadows across the marble floors. Outside, the garden bloomed quietly, untouched by the noise of the world.Javier Everhart sat at the breakfast table with a steaming cup of black tea in hand. He wasn’t reading a newspaper or scrolling through news on his phone. He simply watched the sun rise slowly, the way he always did, without rush.Valeria entered a moment later, wearing a white silk robe, her dark hair loosely tied. She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before sitting across from him.“They’re still calling,” she murmured, pouring herself tea. “Ronald’s assistant has left three messages. Two emails from Marcus. And a request for a private meeting from Councilman Marris.”Javier’s expression didn’t shift. “They’ll call until the fear wears off. Then they’ll pretend nothing happened.”Valeria studied him. “And you? Will you respond?”He took a sip of his tea. “Eventually.”They sat

The grand hall of the Aurelia Hotel glistened with polished marble and golden chandeliers, echoing with the hum of conversation and the clinking of wine glasses. It was a charity gala, one of the most exclusive events of the season. Invitations were rare, the guest list handpicked. Everyone who mattered in the city’s business sphere was present.Javier Everhart stood near the far end of the room, near the enormous glass windows overlooking the city lights. His dark blue suit was perfectly tailored, his posture calm and composed. Yet somehow, he still blended into the background. People walked past him without a second glance, assuming him to be one of the serving staff or a guest from a minor sponsor company.A man brushed past him roughly, nearly spilling wine on Javier’s sleeve. The man didn’t even pause.“Move out of the way, will you?” he muttered irritably.Javier only gave a small nod.That man—Ronald Hemsley—was the owner of a mid-tier investment firm that had been aggressively

The scent of espresso lingered in the air as Javier stepped into the quiet little café nestled between rows of bookstores and flower stalls. The place was modest—old wooden tables, mismatched chairs, a hand-chalked menu above the counter—but it was peaceful. That’s why Javier liked it.He wore a plain beige coat over a dark sweater, his black trousers slightly wrinkled from sitting in meetings all morning. There was no glint of luxury, no mark of status. Just a man who looked tired, solitary, and invisible in the crowd.As he queued to order, two young businessmen in sleek suits pushed past him without so much as a glance. One bumped Javier’s shoulder hard, sending a tremor through his arm.“Watch it, old man,” the taller one muttered without looking back.The other laughed. “Bet he’s here for free Wi-Fi.”Javier said nothing. He merely stepped back into line, his hands calm at his sides.The barista at the counter, a young woman named Marcy who had never once greeted him with anythin

The rain had softened to a mist by morning. Javier sat on the stone bench beneath the ivy-covered pergola, a cup of black coffee untouched in his hand. The scent of damp earth lingered in the garden, accompanied by the low hum of bees circling the roses Valeria had planted last spring.She approached quietly, as she always did—never startling him, never intruding. Just appearing beside him like a thought that finally found words.“Didn’t sleep,” she said softly, slipping her hand into his.He shook his head once.Valeria studied his face, her warm brown eyes noting the stillness in his jaw, the fatigue in his shoulders. Most people wouldn’t notice it. But she always did.“Was it Cassian?&rd

The hotel’s grand ballroom emptied like a tide receding from the shore. All that remained was silence—and Javier.He didn’t stay long. There was no need. The echoes of his statement would reverberate through boardrooms, headlines, and private calls before the night was over. And that was enough.Javier made his way through the gold-trimmed hallways of the Langston Towers, his pace steady, eyes fixed forward. He wore the same grey coat and scuffed leather shoes that had earned him sneers from valet attendants and whispered insults from waitstaff earlier that evening. No one had bothered to greet him when he entered. Now, none dared to speak.But of course, there were always exceptions.“Hey! You!”A voice rang out sharply behind him.Javier turned his head mildly, his expression unreadable.A young man in an overpriced blazer—probably no older than twenty-seven—stormed toward him. His name tag, which read “Jules,” was tilted sideways. The assistant event coordinator.“I told you earlie

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