Rain hadn’t been forecasted.But the sky above the city wept anyway, a soft drizzle tracing down the polished windows of the penthouse office Javier Everhart rarely used—except when he wanted to be alone. The kind of alone where the world forgot you existed.He sipped his coffee. No cream. No sugar. Just like the man himself—quiet, bitter, and far too sharp to be swallowed comfortably.The storm wasn’t in the sky.It was behind the scenes.Rafael had been noisy, arrogant, and ultimately disposable. But whoever had sent the man in the coat they were the real threat. Professional. Hidden. Strategic.Someone who didn’t throw punches until the knife was already in.Javier set the cup down, gaze fixed on the file folder sitting at the edge of his desk.The name written on it was short.One syllable.Kade.No last name. No digital trail. But whispers connected him to major sabotage operations across the finance sector. Collapsed hedge funds, insider leaks, engineered bankruptcies. Always cl

The room went still—dead still.Even the click of glasses stopped. Even the ever-buzzing executive lounge AC seemed to hold its breath.Chairman Holt.The man was a legend wrapped in authority. A CEO-maker. A career-breaker. His name hadn’t been seen on any official calendar for months. Whispers claimed he had retired early, others believed he operated behind the scenes like some corporate godfather. But here he was, in the flesh, fury carved into every line of his face.“Someone,” Holt said icily, stepping into the center of the lounge, “better start talking. Right now.”The silver-haired executive froze. The flash drive in his hand suddenly felt radioactive.Javier, calm as ever, turned slightly—just enough to face Holt without ever breaking composure.“Chairman,” he said smoothly, voice devoid of fear, “Mr. Whitmore here seems to believe he’s uncovered some sort of... digital conspiracy involving myself. He claims to hold evidence.”Whitmore stiffened. “With all due respect—”“No,”

The voice was shrill, panicked, and unmistakably fueled by fear. It silenced the room even more than the corruption reveal had.Javier didn’t turn. Not yet.He knew the sound of desperation when he heard it. It always came running after the truth, never before.Footsteps echoed in rapid, nervous staccato across the marble floor. Then came the clinking sound of expensive heels skidding to a halt. Only then did Javier shift his gaze slightly toward the doorway.Councilman Dean Marris—one of Langston Securities’ board directors and a political darling of the investment world—stood breathless, sweat beading down his temples. Behind him, a trail of aides and security guards scrambled in confusion. His tailored coat was wrinkled, and his tie had been loosened, like he’d ripped it off during a sprint.“What… what did you do, Everhart?” Marris spat, eyes darting between the screen, the frozen image of the leaked financial records, and the now-vacant spot where Silas had stood moments ago.Jav

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 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