The woman tightened her grip on the folder and slipped the documents under her armpit as if Simon’s eyes alone could steal them. Her face carried the sharp pride of someone used to being obeyed, and the way she lifted her chin made the receptionists straighten with interest. “I asked you a question,” she said coldly. “Who are you to question me inside this company?”Around them, several employees slowed their pace without pretending they were not listening. In a place where hierarchy meant everything, it was unusual to see an unfamiliar man speak to a senior employee without fear. Curiosity began spreading through the lobby faster than whispered gossip.Simon did not move back. His gaze remained on the folder, calm but fixed. “I am a man who suspects something is wrong,” he said. “And I want to know where you got those documents.”Simon's tone carried no anger, only certainty. He had interrogated spies, generals, and traitors before. Compared to them, the woman standing before him lo

The second guard moved closer, his voice was loud enough to shake the attention of everyone in the reception hall. “I will count to three,” he said, pointing at Simon’s face like Simon was a stubborn child. “If your hand is still on Mrs. Veyra by then, we will beat you up and drag you out by your neck.”Veyra’s lips curved with satisfaction, though her wrist was still trapped in Simon’s grip. “You should listen to him,” she said, her voice full of poison. “A handsome face will not help you when security breaks your bones. Release me now, apologize on your knees, and maybe I will only sue you instead of ending your life on this island.”Simon looked at the two guards without fear. “You are making a mistake,” he said calmly. “The woman you are protecting is carrying illegal clearance papers. If you stop acting like hired muscles for one minute, you might save this company serious trouble.”The first guard laughed harshly. “One,” he counted, stepping closer while rolling his shoulders. “

For a moment, no one understood what had been said. Then one receptionist laughed loudly, and another joined her, though both sounded unsure.One of the younger accountants forced a smile. “This has to be some hidden-camera prank.”A payroll officer nodded quickly. “Exactly. Nobody gets fired by a stranger standing in reception.”Another employee folded his arms. “Wait until Mr. Marcus explains everything. This is probably an executive exercise.”The laughter returned, but it sounded forced now. Even those laughing kept glancing at Marcus, hoping he would correct what they had just heard.Veyra stared at Simon. “Fire me? You?” She pointed at him with trembling anger. “You must be enjoying your madness. I have worked here for nine years. You cannot walk in from nowhere and fire me.”Simon met her furious stare without blinking. “You're mistaken,” he said quietly. “I did not walk in from nowhere. I walked into my company.”Veyra laughed again. “Your company? Listen to yourself. If confi

The ride took him away from the cleaner parts of Betford and into streets where the lights thinned. The driver kept glancing at Simon through the mirror as the roads worsened. The air outside changed too. It became heavier, full of smoke, cheap liquor, and old rain trapped in broken gutters.The driver cleared his throat. “Boss, are you sure this address is correct?”Simon looked out the window. “Yes.”The driver slowed near a junction where two streetlights flickered like they were tired of living. Ahead, the road narrowed into a darker stretch lined with abandoned shops and rusted metal gates.The driver stopped. “This is as far as I can go.”Simon reached for his wallet. “I know.”The driver turned halfway in his seat, worry written all over his face. “No offense, but nobody decent goes there after sunset. If someone told you to meet them there, maybe call them and tell them to come out.”Simon paid him and opened the door. “Thanks for the warning.”The driver shook his head. “You

Black Lantern stood at the end of a broken service road on the outskirts of Ashcroft County. It looked like an abandoned warehouse from a distance, wide and ugly, with rusted sheets of metal nailed over some windows and old warning signs hanging crookedly along the walls. Around it were rusted shipping containers, oil drums, broken pallets, and luxury cars parked in strange contrast to the decay.A rusted chain-link fence surrounded most of the property, but several sections had been cut open long ago to create unofficial entrances. Empty bottles, discarded syringes, and burnt tire marks littered the ground, telling the story of countless illegal nights that had come before this one.The place was alive in the way rotten things sometimes were. Loud music thudded through the walls. Armed lookouts leaned near the entrance, pretending to be relaxed while their eyes kept moving. Drug addicts waited near the containers like hungry ghosts. Men in expensive watches stepped out of tinted SUVs