People started to gather. The boutique was dead silent. The saleswoman’s face had drained of all color, her lips parting like she wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out. The manager, sensing the tension thick in the air, cleared his throat and forced a professional smile."Sir, if you'd follow me, I'll ensure you get the best service."Zen didn't move immediately. His gaze remained on the woman, watching her discomfort stretch until the air felt suffocating. Then, with an exhale of amusement, he finally stepped forward, his movements unhurried as he followed the manager deeper into the store.Behind him, he could feel the saleswoman’s stare burning into his back, but she didn’t dare say a word.The store’s private fitting area was as luxurious as expected—plush seating, a full-length mirror framed in gold, and a velvet curtain to section off the changing space. The manager personally brought over the suit Zen had requested, along with a selection of others that, in his

Catherine finally glanced at him over her shoulder. “Do you know about Shen Lian?”Zen arched a brow. “No.”“A historical painter from the Chinese dynastic era.” She turned to face him fully, her gaze flickering over him. “His brushwork was so divine, they said he could steal the breath of any woman who laid eyes on his work.”Zen’s stare didn’t waver. “And?”Catherine took a step closer, the sharp click of her heels the only sound in the room. “And I see a similar quality in you.”He exhaled lightly, unimpressed. “Didn’t know I was in the business of painting.”“You’re not.” She stopped just in front of him, so close that he could smell the floral notes in her perfume. “But you are in the business of stealing attention.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes flickering with amusement. “Women can’t seem to look away from you, can they?”Zen remained silent.Catherine smiled, running a finger down the lapel of his suit. “How can a man be so charming and so tough at the same time… also cut

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No, It's just... striking."Zen studied her for a moment, noting the slight tension in her shoulders. "You may go."Once the door closed behind her, Sinclair let out a low whistle. "She's lying, I don’t know Keisha to be that easygoing.""Obviously.""Want me to look into that too?"“Come to think of it, Catherine dropped a message that you will be following her to Paris soon,” Sinclair added.Zen shook his head. "Gosh, I’ll look into that, and I'll handle Keisha." He turned his attention to the briefcase, entering a complex code into its digital lock. The case opened with a soft hiss, revealing a collection of documents and a single USB drive."Is that what I think it is?" Sinclair asked, leaning forward with interest."Tom's private records," Zen confirmed. "The ones he kept separate from everything else."Sinclair whistled again. "How'd you find those?""I didn't. He did." Zen pulled out a leather-bound journal. "He left coordinates in his perso

The evening had taken a turn that even Zen hadn't anticipated. What should have been a simple information-gathering mission at the charity gala had evolved into a public dismantling of Gregory Harrington's carefully constructed facade. Now, as he stood beside Catherine at the bar, he could feel curious eyes tracking their every move."Your reputation has just shifted dramatically," Catherine observed, signaling the bartender for another champagne. "From Tom Diel, the uncertain whom with calculating force keeps dangerous secrets on his enemies."Zen's expression remained neutral. "I don't care about reputation.""Everyone cares about reputation," she countered. "The difference is whether you control it or it controls you." She accepted her fresh glass with a nod to the bartender. "Tonight, you seized control."Before Zen could respond, a slim, elegant woman in a midnight blue gown approached them. Her silver hair was styled in a sleek bob that framed a face that had aged gracefully int

The Carmichael Hotel stood like a gleaming sentinel in the heart of the financial district, its art deco façade illuminated by carefully positioned lights that accentuated its architectural details. At this late hour, the lobby was quiet, staffed only by the night manager and a discreet security guard who nodded respectfully as Zen entered.He had changed from his tuxedo into a more casual dark suit—still impeccably tailored but designed for movement rather than show. The Presidential Suite was on the top floor, accessible only by a private elevator that required a keycard.Zen had no such card, but that was a minor inconvenience."Mr. Diel," the night manager greeted him, hurrying from behind the reception desk. "This is unexpected. How may we assist you?""I need to see Ms. Caldwell," Zen replied, his tone making it clear this wasn't a request.The manager hesitated. "I'm afraid Ms. Caldwell left strict instructions not to be disturbed.""I understand," Zen said, reaching into his p