2025-05-14 15:27:39
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CHAPTER 176
“WHAT HAPPENED HERE?!”The voice cracked like thunder against the boutique’s opulent walls. Firm. Authoritative. Laced with outrage.Everyone turned in unison.Striding through the boutique entrance was a man in a sharp navy-blue uniform—Security Director of Avalon Mall. Behind him, two more security officers flanked the doorway, hands resting on their belts, eyes scanning the scene with suspicion.The boutique manager rushed forward, flustered. “M-Mr. Calhoun, sir. There’s been a misunderstanding—”“Misunderstanding?” Calhoun snapped, raising an eyebrow. “Because from what I saw on the surveillance monitors, a group of customers was openly mocking and harassin
CHAPTER 175
“Ugh, seriously? You’d think malls had better standards these days.”The voice rang out sharp and haughty, echoing off the marble tiles of the luxury wing of the Avalon Mall. A group of well-dressed socialites, young heirs and heiresses in their designer wear, clustered near the display of a new boutique launch. And all their attention was fixed—not on the new collection—but on the man quietly browsing a modest rack in the corner.Javier Everhart.Plain grey shirt. Dark trousers. No logos, no sheen, no statement.Invisible to those who never learned to see power without labels.“Is he lost?” a girl with platinum curls and oversized sunglasses whispered, deliberately loud. “Someone tell him the discount store’s two floors down.”Her companion, a tall man in an obnoxiously bright Versace jacket, snorted. “I didn’t know janitors shopped here.”Laughter followed.Javier said nothing. He was examining a pair of cufflinks—modest but elegant. Something old-world. Understated. Just the way he
CHAPTER 174
Javier paused mid-step, turning his head slightly as the cold night breeze ruffled his hair. The group of young men—three of them, barely out of university, with slicked-back hair and overpriced designer jackets—stood there, laughing like hyenas.Another one chimed in, eyeing Javier’s plain grey jacket with theatrical disgust. “Seriously, who still wears wool like that? My grandfather wouldn’t be caught dead in it.”“I dunno, man,” the tallest one said, circling Javier mockingly. “Maybe he thinks he's pulling the ‘mysterious intellectual’ vibe. Too bad it just screams loser with a philosophy degree.”Laughter again.The shortest of the trio leaned in dramatically, holding his nose. “You smell that? Smells like rent’s three months overdue.”“Maybe he’s here to beg the manager at that cheap diner behind us for a night shift,” the tallest sneered. “Would make sense. He’s got the look—quiet, forgettable, absolutely replaceable.”They grinned, clearly enjoying themselves, expecting Javier
CHAPTER 173
Gideon Langston stormed out of the boutique with the sharp staccato of his Italian leather shoes echoing against the marble. Rage coiled in his chest like a serpent. The smirks, the gasps, the humiliation—it all burned in his veins.He had underestimated Javier Everhart.Again.The man was like a ghost in the corporate world—unseen, unheard, and yet always one step ahead. The more Gideon tried to pull the strings, the more he found himself tangled in Javier’s invisible web.He climbed into the back of his limousine, barking into his phone, “I want everything you can find on Javier Everhart. Every property, every partner, every damn private holding. I don’t care how deep he’s buried it. Dig.”“Yes, Mr. Langston,” the assistant stammered.But as the call ended, Gideon leaned back and muttered bitterly, “This isn’t over. He’ll regret ever stepping out of his shadows.”Meanwhile, across the city, Javier sat alone in the Everhart Holdings penthouse office. The view behind him was dazzling—
CHAPTER 172
The scent of luxury clung to the marble-floored halls of the Eldorian Jewelers boutique. Velvet displays gleamed under spotlighted glass, whispering wealth, status, and exclusivity. Inside, a dozen affluent patrons roamed, decked in designer and entitlement. Among them, Javier Everhart stood—plain slacks, a modest button-up shirt, and scuffed shoes that looked shamefully out of place next to diamond cuffs and crocodile leather.He was there for one thing: a custom necklace he had commissioned weeks ago for Valeria.As he approached the counter, the attending saleswoman barely glanced up from her tablet. “Sir, this area is by appointment only. Delivery services use the back entrance.”“I have an appointment,” Javier said calmly.She lifted her gaze, eyes sweeping over him like dust. “Name?”“Javier Everhart.”The name made her pause—but only briefly. Then, dismissively, she typed it in.Behind him, a man in a glossy suit chuckled as he spoke to his wife. “Poor guy probably wandered in
CHAPTER 171
The soft click of leather soles echoed through the underground parking lot beneath Everhart Tower. Javier Everhart walked alone, his figure calm and unbothered in his usual plain attire—charcoal slacks, an off-the-rack shirt, and no hint of the empire that pulsed beneath his name. To most, he was still the "assistant," the man who delivered coffee to executives who didn’t know he paid their salaries.But tonight, his calm carried a blade.Hidden in the shadowed pillars was the final piece of a puzzle that had bled his company for months.The mole.Javier turned the corner and stopped in front of a black sedan parked near the service lift. A tall man leaned against it, nervously smoking. It was Darren Holt, one of the junior project directors—ambitious, always eager to be seen, always quick to laugh too loud at a superior’s joke. He was also the one who’d been leaking internal documents, contracts, and board memos to Gideon Langston’s firm.Darren stiffened when he saw Javier. Then he
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