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

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

“You again?”The voice belonged to a tall man in an expensive grey suit, his cologne strong enough to command the entire hallway. He sneered as he looked Javier up and down, starting from the plain brown loafers to the modest wristwatch and simple coat.Javier simply nodded, standing quietly in front of the glass elevator.The man scoffed. “Let me guess, you’re here to sell us more of those budget analytics tools? Or maybe pitch another one of those community center investments?” He turned to his companion and chuckled, “Honestly, I don’t know how these nobodies keep getting into this building.”The other man joined in the laughter.Javier said nothing. Not because he lacked words, but because none were necessary.This wasn’t the first time he had been mistaken for someone beneath their attention. Nor would it be the last.“Actually,” a woman’s voice cut in, “he has an appointment. In the executive boardroom.”All three men turned.Valeria stood a few feet away, clipboard in hand, tab

The scent of roasted coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the low hum of chatter and clinking cutlery. Café Léon was packed with white-collared professionals in their tailored suits, most too engrossed in their laptops or meetings to notice the man quietly seated by the window in a plain navy coat. Javier Everhart stirred his tea slowly, eyes half-lidded as he listened to the conversation unfolding at the table beside him.“…he showed up in loafers and no tie. Can you believe that?” one man scoffed, his voice sharp with mockery.Another chuckled. “I thought he was a janitor at first. Imagine showing up to a business pitch looking like that. What was his name again? Javi-something?”“Javier. Javier something,” the first man replied, then added with an exaggerated grin, “He looked like he got dressed at a thrift shop.”Javier said nothing. His expression remained unchanged, his spoon clinking once against the side of the teacup as he set it down. The two men didn’t recognize him—no

“Sir, I’m not sure this is your floor.”The receptionist’s voice was polite but firm as she eyed Javier Everhart from behind her marble desk. Her eyes trailed over his simple black coat, scuffed shoes, and the aged leather briefcase in his hand. He didn’t look like the type of man who belonged on the 52nd floor of the Sterling & Hart Corporate Tower—a place reserved for top-tier clients and executives.Javier offered a faint smile. “I’m here for the investor meeting. Summit Room.”The woman hesitated. She had strict instructions about who was allowed in that room, and this man didn’t fit the profile. Before she could reply, the elevator doors chimed open again behind Javier, and two sharply dressed men stepped out. One of them—tall, confident, and loud—immediately noticed Javier.“Oh,” he laughed, clapping his companion on the shoulder. “I didn’t realize the janitorial staff had access to this floor now.”His friend snorted. “Maybe he’s here to pick up coffee orders.”The receptionist