Isla stepped into the hotel room with slow, deliberate steps, her heels clicking faintly against the polished floor. She lowered herself onto the bed, the softness of the mattress doing little to ease the weight pressing against her chest. For a moment she sat there motionless, staring blankly at the floor, unable to stop her mind from circling back to what had just happened so suddenly.She hadn’t expected David to find out so quickly that she had met with Lucas. Her father always seemed to know things before anyone else, and yet the speed of this discovery unsettled her. Her heart felt pressed, heavy, but not with regret. It was heavy with pain, the pain of a daughter whose own father had disowned her.David was her father, and it was not easy for a child to hear that her father would cut her off simply because she wanted to be successful on her own merit and not by anyone else’s power, not even the privilege of bearing her family’s name.She heaved a long, shaky breath, then rested

Isla wiped her eyes.She had been wailing for two hours nonstop. Lucas’ voice kept striking her mind again and again, echoing like a reminder she could not escape.She knew there was no turning back. She had to do what she had to do so that they could proceed with the processing. Every tear she shed only hardened her resolve.Taking in a deep breath, she stepped out of the hotel, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as though announcing her decision. The city air hit her face, cooling her swollen eyes. Without hesitating, she headed towards the popular law firm in Velmoria, the very place where the next chapter of her struggle would begin.***On the other hand, David stepped down from his car, not from the driver’s seat but from the back. His personal chauffeur and assistant, both men who had served him for years, had driven him straight to Isla’s villa.He paused at the front gate, his eyes roaming over the familiar sight. The villa stood tall and grand, a symbol of wea

“Done, sir!”Isla signed the papers, her hand trembling slightly as Augustus, the attorney in charge, slid the documents across the polished desk toward her.The office was still, the ticking of a wall clock filling the silence. She sat upright in the chair, facing him, the weight of her decision pressing down on her shoulders. Her voice had been steady, but her heart was heavy as she explained the reason she was abandoning her current last name for a new one.Augustus had worked in the Ministry of Justice for over a decade. Every single day, he guided people through the process of changing their names, drafting affidavits, and ensuring the law was followed to the letter. To him, it was routine, a process stripped of sentiment. But even with his years of experience, he had learned that behind every request was a story. Some wanted to escape their past, some wanted a fresh start, and some simply wanted to belong.By law, he had to vet each person carefully. He would look into their his

White peered his eyes into the double-eyes microscope. The lens reflected his patience, his obsession. He had been sitting in his car for one whole hour, not moving, not blinking away from the instrument. His eyes never left the microscope, and now, finally, he saw her.Isla was stepping down the long stairs of the law firm building, her figure sharp and clear through the lens.White adjusted slightly, swinging the microscope in her direction as if he were studying prey in its natural habitat.“A cab,” he muttered under his breath, his lips curving knowingly. He had predicted she hadn’t come to the firm with her own car. And just as he expected, she was leaving in the same way she arrived, through a taxi.His cheek expanded into a smirk, the satisfaction of a man whose plan was falling perfectly into place.After spending nights digging through the dark web, after carefully studying Lucas, after pointing at the screen and identifying the weak point, the pawn he could use, he had chose

The five-star hotel was adorned with different levels, each floor designed to serve a particular class of people.At the very topmost floor was the executive level. It was reserved for only the wealthiest, the top politicians, noble families, and powerful executives who could afford to pay the heavy fee that came with the privilege of staying there. It was a place that carried a certain aura of exclusivity, where luxury spoke louder than words.Below that was the intermediate level, as it was rightly called. This floor was designed for the middle-class earners, those who worked hard enough to enjoy a taste of elegance without reaching the dizzying heights of the elite. The price was still cumbersome, but it was manageable for the averagely earning. People here wanted to feel important, and the hotel catered to that desire.Finally, there was the low level. It was not shabby, but it was certainly humbler compared to the others. It served the lower-average earners who still wanted the p