Brent stood in his private elevator, watching the city through the glass walls. His phone wouldn't stop buzzing.
Sarah had called forty-seven times in the last hour. At first, he'd checked each message, more out of habit than anything else. Now he just let them pile up. The first few were exactly what he'd expected from her: "How dare you embarrass me like this!" "You'll never work in this city again!" "Do you know who I am?" Then they changed: "Brent, please pick up." "We can talk about this." "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things." He almost laughed at that last one. Two years of watching her true colors come out, and now she was sorry? The elevator dinged, opening up to the top floor of Walker International. His real office. Not the tiny cubicle Sarah had stuck him in, the one she'd always walk past with that little smirk on her face. This was his actual workplace – all glass and steel and power, stretching out across the entire top floor of the city's most expensive building. James met him at the door. James was his real assistant, not the fake one he'd been playing at Chen Industries. "Sir, it's getting crazy out there." "Tell me." "Chen Industries stock is in free fall. Down 43% and still dropping. The big clients are jumping ship – already got calls from fifteen of them wanting to move their business over to us." James fell into step beside him as they walked through the office. "And Sarah? She's losing it. Security called. She's been sitting outside your old apartment for almost half an hour." Brent sank into his chair – a real one, not that cheap thing Sarah had given him "as a favor." He'd spent two years pretending that crappy IKEA chair was the best he could afford. Meanwhile, this one probably cost more than her car. "Let her sit there," he said. "That apartment was just for show anyway." "Want me to have security remove her?" "Nah." Brent loosened his tie. "Let her waste her time. Maybe she'll finally learn what it feels like to be the one waiting around for someone who doesn't care." His phone lit up again. This time it was Thomas Liu – the guy whose contract Sarah hadn't even bothered to read. She'd been too busy bragging about landing the deal to notice all the tricks Brent had hidden in the fine print. "You know what's funny, James?" Brent spun his chair to face the windows. "I really did try to give her a chance. When I first met her, I thought maybe everyone was wrong about her. Maybe she wasn't just another rich kid playing CEO with daddy's money." He pulled up the security feed on his laptop. Sarah was in the Chen Industries lobby, makeup running, screaming at some poor security guard who probably made minimum wage. Just like she used to scream at him. "I could've told her who I was any time. Could've walked into that building on day one and bought it right out from under her. But I wanted to see who she really was. Would she ever look past someone's bank account? Would she ever treat people like... people?" James nodded. "And she failed." "Big time." Brent pulled up another screen – spreadsheets showing exactly how much of Chen Industries he actually owned. He'd been buying it piece by piece for two years, using different names, different companies. Right under her nose. "She was so busy looking down on everyone, she never bothered looking up to see who was really pulling the strings." His phone buzzed again. Sarah's latest message was different: 'I'll give you anything. Money. Power. A real position in the company. Please just tell me what you want. I can fix this. We can fix this." "Too late," he muttered. Then, louder: "James, set up a press conference for tomorrow morning. Time to show everyone who Brent Walker really is." "What about Chen Industries?" "Let them sweat." Brent stood up, straightening his suit. Not the cheap ones Sarah had mocked. This one was Tom Ford, hand-tailored. One of hundreds in his real closet. "By the time I'm done, Sarah won't just lose her company. She'll lose everything that made her feel special." He walked to the window. The city stretched out below him, lights starting to come on as the sun set. Somewhere down there, Sarah was probably still throwing tantrums, still thinking she could fix this with money or threats or fake apologies. She had no idea what was coming. His phone buzzed one more time. This message just said: 'Please.' Brent smiled. Not the fake smile he'd worn for two years. This was real. This was him. "You know what the best part is, James?" He turned back to his desk, where a stack of folders laid out his plans for the next few months. "I'm not doing anything she wouldn't have done. I'm just better at it." He picked up the velvet box from earlier. Under the USB drive was a hidden compartment with an old photo. It showed Sarah at their first meeting, looking at him like something stuck to her shoe. She'd looked at him that same way every day since. "Set up meetings with all of Chen Industries' major clients for next week. And get me everything you can find on their overseas operations. Sarah's not the only one who's about to learn who I really am." As night fell over the city, offices started going dark. But in one building, a CEO's office stayed lit. Sarah Chen was pulling an all-nighter, trying to save her company. But she couldn't save anything anymore. Because the nobody she'd looked down on? He'd been somebody all along. And he was just getting started.
Latest Chapter
234 - A NIGHT TO BE REMEMBERED
Sarah Chen sat in the back of a sleek black luxury car, her diamond earrings catching the streetlights as the driver cruised down Fifth Avenue. She checked her makeup for the tenth time, her red lips perfect, hair pinned flawlessly. Tonight was her night — the New York Business Awards, broadcast live across every major network. “#NYBAwards #QueenSarah,” she’d posted earlier. She leaned forward, tapping the tinted glass. “How’s the dress?” she asked her assistant Kara, who was squeezed next to her, clutching Sarah’s clutch bag and a folder of fake donor stats. “Perfect, Miss Chen. Everyone will stare,” Kara said, her smile forced. Sarah smirked. Of course they would. She had paid enough to rig it all — the interviews, the nomination, the online votes. She’d even slipped envelopes to the right people. After tonight, the Chen name woul
233 - BRENT WALKER NEVER LOSES
Kenneth Chow believed in two things: money and power. He buttoned his navy suit jacket with steady hands, admiring himself in the mirror of the West Regency Hotel’s executive restroom. His hair was slicked back perfectly, shoes polished to a mirror shine, and his gold cufflinks gleamed under the white lights. Today, he would speak on the main stage at the Asia-Pacific Legal Integrity Conference. Hundreds of lawyers, judges, and corporate clients were in attendance, eyes all waiting to hear Kenneth Chow’s “wisdom.” “Protecting Corporate Integrity,” his topic read on the digital banners. Kenneth smirked. Irony was delicious. Years ago, Kenneth was the senior lawyer for Chen Industries. Whenever Brent Walker submitted proposals, Kenneth would “lose” them, rolling his eyes. “Coffee boy trying to think,” he once sneered, tossing Brent’s files into the trash. “You’re not lawyer m
232 - KARMA IS A BITCH
Lydia Song checked her reflection in the mirrored wall, fixing her glossy waves and tapping the mic pinned to her blouse. Today was her day. She stood on the stage of the luxe SkyBridge Conference Center, looking down at the ring-lit crowd of influencers, small business owners, and fresh PR interns, all seated in rows with notebooks, iced coffees, and bright, hungry eyes. The banner above her read: “LYDIA SONG: MASTERING THE ART OF PUBLIC IMAGE” Years ago, Lydia was Sarah Chen’s PR manager, the queen of spinning scandals into trending hashtags. Back then, she’d joined Sarah in humiliating Brent, calling him: “Oh, the coffee donkey,” “Sarah’s charity case,” “Too slow to even get a coffee order right.” She spread rumors around Chen Industries about Brent being “cre
231 - REVENGE SERVED COLD
Gregory Lin loved being the loudest voice in the boardroom. He wore tailored suits, always a shade too bright, and carried the latest phone, slamming it onto the table during meetings to get attention. He laughed loudly, cracked crude jokes, and made junior staff uncomfortable with his constant bragging. Years ago, when Brent Walker was just Sarah’s assistant, Gregory made it a point to humiliate him in front of the others. “Coffee boy, can’t you even walk straight?” “What, too broke to buy decent shoes?” Gregory would toss Brent’s paperwork across the table, smirking, while Sarah chuckled beside him. Brent’s jaw would tighten, but he would pick up the papers quietly and continue working. Now, Gregory stood in the shimmering lobby of the Chen Industries tower, sipping his overpriced espresso, scrolling through social media. “Another record quarter.” “Chen Indu
230 - KARMA IS REAL
Tiffany Wu had built her entire identity around being seen. She strutted into the Grand Sapphire Hotel’s ballroom, the hem of her glittering silver dress sweeping across the marble floors. Her hair was styled in perfect waves, makeup sharp enough to slice through the soft lighting. Cameras flashed as she paused at the entrance, tilting her head just right, her lips forming her practiced influencer smile. “Queen Tiff in the building 💅✨.” “Another red carpet conquered.” “#LivingTheDream.” She waved at the sea of influencers and socialites gathered for the Galaxy Influencer Awards, each step a quiet reminder that Tiffany Wu believed she was untouchable. Years ago, Tiffany was Sarah Chen’s closest friend at college. They would sit at the cafe with iced lattes, laughing while Brent Walker mopped around them, wiping tables. “Loser boy, clean faster!” Tiffany had once shouted, thr
229 - LAUGHING STOCK
Vivian Miranda Chen had always believed money was everything. She sipped her imported green tea in delicate silence, seated at the head of a polished mahogany table in the Pearl Club, the city’s most exclusive high-society women’s club. Her diamond earrings sparkled under the chandeliers, and the silk scarf around her neck was embroidered with her initials, “V.C.”, in gold thread. Around her, women in designer dresses laughed lightly, pretending to be gracious while silently competing over handbags, vacations, and whose daughter had the richer husband. Vivian thrived in these games. “Sarah’s been quiet lately,” one woman with pearl earrings said lightly, sipping her tea. Vivian’s eyes sharpened. “She’s focusing on her business. We’re Chen Industries, dear. We don’t crumble.” They nodded politely, hiding smirks behind teacups. Everyone had see
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