2025-02-24 17:57:09“Where... am I?”
Javier’s voice came out rough and raw, as if every word cost him a bit of his strength.
“You’re in my mansion,” replied Valeria, seated beside him.
With a raised, delicate brow and a smile that mixed amusement with a hint of condescension, she continued, “I found you bleeding in an alley, and I couldn’t leave you there bleeding to death.”
Javier’s hand flew to his head, expecting a wound of his recent ordeal, only to find unblemished skin.
“That’s weird, I remember a strike,” he murmured, confusion flickering in eyes that usually burned with quiet resolve.
Yet there were no wounds to be seen.
“You were hit,” Valeria confirmed. “I even took you to the hospital, but they said you were fine—no serious injuries. So I brought you here to keep an eye on you until you wake up.”
Javier’s gaze shifted to her, noticing that behind her teasing tone lay a spark of curiosity.
“Then I owe you my thanks.”
“You do,” she replied, tapping a perfectly manicured finger against her chin.
“But I expect more than gratitude. I need an explanation. It’s not every day I rescue a half-dead man with no marks to show for it.”
“It was just a bruise from a misunderstanding—a trivial scuffle,” he explained, his tone betraying a strange mix of nonchalance and lingering pain.
Valeria’s eyes lingered on him, as if trying to decode a hidden message in his silence.
“Once again, thank you for saving me,” Javier added softly.
But Valeria’s silence spoke volumes. Disappointment tugged at her—Javier hadn’t recognized her as his fiancée, despite the years that had passed.
Yet she swallowed her sadness, convincing herself that his detached manner was simply the residue of a near-fatal encounter.
She needed to tell him her true identity.
Before more could be said, Javier rose from the bed.
“What are you doing?” Valeria called after him.
“I’m fine. I need to leave,” he stated, already heading for the door.
“No!” Valeria’s voice rang out in alarm. “You must rest until your condition stabilizes.” She lunged toward him, but as she reached out, a sudden, searing pain shot through her chest.
Clutching her heart, she collapsed in an instant.
“Miss!”
Javier cried out as he spun around at the crash, shock gripping him at the sight of Valeria sprawled on the gleaming marble floor.
A nearby waiter shrieked for help, adding to the chaos.
Moments later, the door burst open. A man in a crisp doctor’s coat strode in, his face etched with urgency.
“Take these, my lady,” he barked, shoving a small bottle of pills and a glass of water into her hands.
With practiced ease, despite her pallor and labored breathing, Valeria swallowed the medicine.
Javier gently laid her back on the bed, studying her with an intensity that betrayed his usually cool demeanor.
“Miss, are you alright?” he asked, noting the signs of a long-term illness etched on her pale features.
With a weak nod, she murmured, “Yes… it happens often.”
Javier frowned. “It’s angina, isn’t it? Incurable, they say.”
Catching her breath, Valeria admitted, “Even the best doctors can’t explain it. They only know to prescribe painkillers and hope for the best.”
But beneath Javier’s calm exterior, something ancient stirred—a torrent of forbidden knowledge, arcane techniques, and alchemical symbols whispering a hidden cure.
“I can cure you,” he declared in a low, steady tone.
Before Valeria could reply, the doctor scoffed. “You? A man from nowhere?” he sneered.
Valeria’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“For your safety, my lady, we checked out who he is when you take this man back,” the doctor retorted sharply. “And I found nothing impressive. This man is no doctor—he’s a fraud trying to get close to you.”
“I never claimed to be a doctor,” Javier countered evenly.
“Oh, let me guess,” the doctor mocked, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Magic? Herbs? Should I start lighting incense and summon the ancestors?”
Ignoring the doctor’s derision, Valeria leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Then tell me—what exactly is your method?”
Javier met her gaze squarely. “Something ancient and potent. A technique that works when modern medicine fails.”
After a long, charged moment of silence, a sly smile broke on Valeria’s lips. “Fine. If you can cure me, you’ll be richly rewarded.”
“My lady,” the doctor protested indignantly, clearly scandalized.
“Step aside,” Valeria ordered coolly. “I want to see what he can do.”
Javier maintained his composure under the scrutinizing eyes. “Then lie down,” he instructed softly.
Valeria did as she was told.
She knew Javier, he wasn't a con artist or someone who would do anything underhanded to gain an advantage.
So, she chose to try to trust him.
“You need to take off your shirt,” Javier instructed, rolling up his sleeves.
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CHAPTER 192
It was a quiet Tuesday morning when Javier Everhart stepped into the glass-walled lobby of The Crescent Club—a private investment circle notorious for accepting only the elite. The kind who wore arrogance like silk and couldn’t tell the difference between old money and earned power.Javier’s coat was the same. Simple. Grey. No designer logo. His shoes, though polished, had walked through more construction sites and factories than luxury ballrooms. He didn’t look like he belonged—and that was precisely the point.The receptionist, a young man with gel-slicked hair and a barely concealed smirk, looked up from behind the counter.“Deliveries are through the back entrance,” he said, not bothering to look twice.Javier’s eyes didn’t flicker. “I’m here for the investors’ roundtable.”The receptionist let out a short laugh. “Sir, this is a closed session. Only invited principals and managing partners. No observers or interns.”A few businessmen waiting near the elevators chuckled softly at t
CHAPTER 191
Morning light filtered through the Everhart estate’s floor-to-ceiling windows, casting pale golden shadows across the marble floors. Outside, the garden bloomed quietly, untouched by the noise of the world.Javier Everhart sat at the breakfast table with a steaming cup of black tea in hand. He wasn’t reading a newspaper or scrolling through news on his phone. He simply watched the sun rise slowly, the way he always did, without rush.Valeria entered a moment later, wearing a white silk robe, her dark hair loosely tied. She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before sitting across from him.“They’re still calling,” she murmured, pouring herself tea. “Ronald’s assistant has left three messages. Two emails from Marcus. And a request for a private meeting from Councilman Marris.”Javier’s expression didn’t shift. “They’ll call until the fear wears off. Then they’ll pretend nothing happened.”Valeria studied him. “And you? Will you respond?”He took a sip of his tea. “Eventually.”They sat
CHAPTER 190
The grand hall of the Aurelia Hotel glistened with polished marble and golden chandeliers, echoing with the hum of conversation and the clinking of wine glasses. It was a charity gala, one of the most exclusive events of the season. Invitations were rare, the guest list handpicked. Everyone who mattered in the city’s business sphere was present.Javier Everhart stood near the far end of the room, near the enormous glass windows overlooking the city lights. His dark blue suit was perfectly tailored, his posture calm and composed. Yet somehow, he still blended into the background. People walked past him without a second glance, assuming him to be one of the serving staff or a guest from a minor sponsor company.A man brushed past him roughly, nearly spilling wine on Javier’s sleeve. The man didn’t even pause.“Move out of the way, will you?” he muttered irritably.Javier only gave a small nod.That man—Ronald Hemsley—was the owner of a mid-tier investment firm that had been aggressively
CHAPTER 189
The scent of espresso lingered in the air as Javier stepped into the quiet little café nestled between rows of bookstores and flower stalls. The place was modest—old wooden tables, mismatched chairs, a hand-chalked menu above the counter—but it was peaceful. That’s why Javier liked it.He wore a plain beige coat over a dark sweater, his black trousers slightly wrinkled from sitting in meetings all morning. There was no glint of luxury, no mark of status. Just a man who looked tired, solitary, and invisible in the crowd.As he queued to order, two young businessmen in sleek suits pushed past him without so much as a glance. One bumped Javier’s shoulder hard, sending a tremor through his arm.“Watch it, old man,” the taller one muttered without looking back.The other laughed. “Bet he’s here for free Wi-Fi.”Javier said nothing. He merely stepped back into line, his hands calm at his sides.The barista at the counter, a young woman named Marcy who had never once greeted him with anythin
CHAPTER 188
The rain had softened to a mist by morning. Javier sat on the stone bench beneath the ivy-covered pergola, a cup of black coffee untouched in his hand. The scent of damp earth lingered in the garden, accompanied by the low hum of bees circling the roses Valeria had planted last spring.She approached quietly, as she always did—never startling him, never intruding. Just appearing beside him like a thought that finally found words.“Didn’t sleep,” she said softly, slipping her hand into his.He shook his head once.Valeria studied his face, her warm brown eyes noting the stillness in his jaw, the fatigue in his shoulders. Most people wouldn’t notice it. But she always did.“Was it Cassian?&rd
CHAPTER 187
The hotel’s grand ballroom emptied like a tide receding from the shore. All that remained was silence—and Javier.He didn’t stay long. There was no need. The echoes of his statement would reverberate through boardrooms, headlines, and private calls before the night was over. And that was enough.Javier made his way through the gold-trimmed hallways of the Langston Towers, his pace steady, eyes fixed forward. He wore the same grey coat and scuffed leather shoes that had earned him sneers from valet attendants and whispered insults from waitstaff earlier that evening. No one had bothered to greet him when he entered. Now, none dared to speak.But of course, there were always exceptions.“Hey! You!”A voice rang out sharply behind him.Javier turned his head mildly, his expression unreadable.A young man in an overpriced blazer—probably no older than twenty-seven—stormed toward him. His name tag, which read “Jules,” was tilted sideways. The assistant event coordinator.“I told you earlie
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