“You thought wrong,” Ethan growled. Richard clasped his hands together, crawling forward. “Please… please, I’ll resign quietly. Just don’t press charges. I have a family—” Ethan grabbed his collar, lifting him like a ragdoll. “So did all the women you probably tried this on before. Only this time, you picked the wrong one.” Alice watched, stunned, heart still pounding in her chest. The rage, the terror—it all blurred into disbelief.Alice was stunned. Her lips parted, breath caught in her throat, as the scene unfolded like something out of a movie she was never meant to be cast in. Ethan—her calm, quiet helper—was now revealed to be someone with power so deep it could silence presidents and make wolves like Richard grovel.She had never imagined Ethan’s identity could be this mysterious and powerful.Branch President Cain adjusted his tie nervously, sweat beading along his temples. He turned to Ethan, choosing his words with caution now. “Mr. Storm… may I ask what happened here?”

Maxime gripped the phone tighter, every trace of arrogance melting into shaky excitement. “You… You’re him?” he repeated, voice nearly a whisper. “Mr. Storm… I didn’t realize— I mean, I had no idea you even existed.”“Oh, I exist,” Ethan said, voice steady as steel. “And I’ve been watching. Listening. Waiting.”Maxime gave a nervous laugh. “Of course, of course! I’m honored you called me personally. I can’t tell you how much I admire your vision. Nova Corp’s success—your success—is unmatched.”Ethan let a pause hang in the air before speaking again, he decided to deceive him. “I’ll be honest, Maxime. I’ve grown… disappointed. Elsa Logan isn’t performing to expectations.”Maxime’s eyes gleamed, a slow grin spreading across his face as he gripped the edge of his desk. “Disappointed, huh? I… I suspected as much. Elsa’s leadership has always been, well, flashy but shallow. Not your kind of precision. Not Nova Corp’s standard.”Ethan’s chuckle on the other end of the line was low and measu

The boardroom door creaked open, its sound cutting through the tense air like a blade.Every head turned.And in walked Ethan Storm.The silence was electric. Disbelieving eyes followed his every step as he walked with slow, measured confidence toward the long table. Then—Maxime’s expression snapped. His smugness dissolved into incredulous fury. “What are you doing here?” he barked. “You’re just a VIP client. You have no right to meddle in a Nova Corp board meeting!”Ethan said nothing at first. His shoes clicked against the polished floor as he strolled forward.Then he stopped at the owner’s seat—the one chair no one ever dared to sit in. It had been vacant for years. Symbolic. Revered. Reserved for the mysterious owner whose identity had always remained hidden.Without a word, Ethan sat down.A beat of stunned silence—then laughter erupted around the room.“He’s lost it,” Grayman snorted.“What a joke,” Hendricks chuckled. “Sit there? Does he think we’re idiots?”Even Bernard lean

Alice was in despair. Her voice dripped with bitter sarcasm as she looked at Belen. “Do you really think John Perez would just accept me because we send me to him like some pawn? You’re delusional if you believe that.”Belen was momentarily stunned by her sharp tone but quickly recovered, a cruel sneer spreading across his face. “Does it matter if he accepts you willingly? I can always drug John. As long as you end up in his bed—married or not—the family benefits. That’s all that counts.”Alice’s fury flared at Belen’s shamelessness. “You’re disgusting!” she spat, voice trembling. But no one else spoke up — everyone else silently nodded in agreement. The plan was accepted.Before she could protest further, the heavy front door opened, and Ethan stepped in, his brow furrowed with concern. “Who said the cooperation with the Morgan family has been canceled?” His voice cut through the thick tension.Belen laughed, loud and mocking. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? You’re so

The restaurant seemed to freeze in time. Gasps rippled through the elegant dining area as the tension at Ethan and Alice’s table grew unbearable. Guests abandoned their foie gras and flutes of champagne, turning to whisper behind their manicured fingers. It wasn’t every day someone dared to stir chaos at The Seraphine.A woman nearby whispered to her companion, voice sharp with curiosity and thinly veiled judgment:“Who are those two? That guy in white—he acts like he owns the place.”Her friend shook her head, eyes narrowing.“No clue. But the other one… that’s some serious tension. He’s not letting go, and that grip? Ice cold.”From another table, a man in a tailored suit murmured to his date, brows furrowed.“Looks like trouble. You don’t see that kind of confrontation here very often. Someone must be important.”The woman beside him leaned closer, voice hushed but eager.“Important, or dangerous. Maybe both. That grip is like a vice—he’s not bluffing.”“Something about that white