The secret council was tense, smoke from Marcus Blackthorne’s cigar curling in the dim chamber like a warning omen. Adrian leaned forward, his voice sharp with desperation.“He humiliated us without lifting a finger. If we wait any longer, he’ll bury us all. The city already bends to his shadow.”Evelyn Kincaid, her nails tapping against the polished table, arched a brow. “Then we strike where shadows can’t hide—publicly. We drag him into the light, expose him as the fraud he must be.”Marcus grunted. “Agreed. If we unite our resources—Kincaid media, Blackthorne capital, Everhart insiders—he won’t survive the blow.”Adrian’s smile flickered like a dying flame. “Yes. Tonight we break him.”But while they plotted, Javier sat in his study, silent as ever. Valeria stood by the window, watching the rain streak against the glass, her arms folded tightly.“They’re moving,” she whispered. “I can feel it. Evelyn. Marcus. Adrian. They won’t stop until they try to destroy you.”Javier didn’t loo

The boutique had gone silent, the kind of silence that made the ticking of the antique clock on the wall sound thunderous. The chairman’s voice still lingered in the air, sharp and unforgiving, but even his arrival hadn’t erased the doubt that hung in the room.Javier stood in the middle of the glittering display, calm as ever, his hands resting loosely at his sides. His silence unsettled some, but for others, it was simply more fuel.The woman with the jeweled earrings, her pride too swollen to be extinguished, scoffed softly. “So what if the chairman defends him? It doesn’t change what we all see. Look at him.” Her lips curled into a mocking smile. “A man in plain clothes pretending to belong. No card or defender can hide the truth.”Her companion leaned back against the velvet chair, swirling his champagne lazily. “Exactly. Anyone can walk in with a mysterious card. Anyone can have a… sponsor.” His eyes darted toward the chairman, insinuation thick in his tone. “But that doesn’t ma

Whispers of Javier Everhart’s reveal spread like wildfire through gilded halls and shadowed corridors. The boutique incident had shaken every aristocrat and tycoon to their core. Stories multiplied with each retelling: some claimed Javier had bought the entire store without blinking, others swore he had dismissed the elite with nothing but silence.By the next evening, fear and awe draped the city like a suffocating fog. Most sought to retreat, to erase their earlier insults with apologies and gifts. But not everyone.Because where fear blooms, arrogance claws to survive.And in the highest suite of the Grand Maravilla Hotel, one such man nursed his wounded pride with a glass of brandy.Eduardo Quintana.He was known as flamboyant, a real estate magnate who had inherited vast tracts of land from his father. For years, he had bathed in the comfort of untouchability. He was one of the men who had mocked Javier at the boutique—his laughter the loudest, his contempt the sharpest.Now, whi

Screens in cafés, bars, and hotel lobbies replayed the same footage on loop — Eduardo Quintana’s face frozen in terror as Javier Everhart’s calm voice thundered through every broadcast channel.By dawn, the once-celebrated Quintana Tower was sealed by federal agents. His name was trending in every corner of the net — Quintana Exposed. Everhart Strikes Again.The public called it poetic justice.But to those who watched from the top floors of glass towers, it was something far more dangerous — a warning.Inside a private penthouse overlooking the city skyline, three of Javier’s oldest rivals gathered under dim light.The atmosphere was tense. Expensive whiskey sat untouched on the table. The city below glimmered like a battlefield.“First Adrian. Then Evelyn. Now Quintana,” muttered Vincent Harrow, head of Harrow Global Holdings, his tone bitter. “He’s dismantling us one by one.”Across from him, Marcus Blackthorne leaned back in his chair, face pale and drawn. “You make it sound like