Emily had never been one to back down, but as she stumbled towards the door, her face flushed with humiliation, her thoughts were a tangled mess. How could she have been so blind? How could she have dismissed him so easily? The man she had thought was just some arrogant, rich playboy was, in fact, a billionaire with more power than she had ever imagined. The realization was like a punch to her stomach, leaving her breathless.She could still feel the weight of Allvar's gaze on her, his icy eyes cutting through her with the precision of a sharp blade. It wasn’t just the shock of his wealth that had shaken her—it was the way he had handled the situation. The way he had turned the tables, dismantling their arrogance with effortless ease. The way he had put Derek and Serena in their place without so much as raising his voice. It was as if he had orchestrated the whole thing from the very beginning, knowing exactly how it would play out."Did you hear him?" Serena whispered, her voice bare

213The next day at Waterfall Corporation, Darwin leaned back in his sleek leather chair, a smug grin etched across his face. He tapped his fingers against the polished oak desk, his thoughts swimming with satisfaction. Yesterday's encounter with Serena and Derek had been nothing short of delightful. The way they’d left—angry, humiliated, and seething—was a perfect appetizer to the meal of revenge he was planning. “This is just the beginning,” he muttered under his breath, his smile widening. Serena. Her name alone sent a rush of anger through him, but he kept it buried beneath his polished exterior. She had dumped him, publicly no less, treating him like some disposable piece of her glamorous world. And Derek? That self-righteous fool had dared to tarnish his reputation with those baseless allegations. Oh, they would both pay, and dearly. A knock at the door broke his train of thought, and Clarabelle, his efficient and ever-loyal secretary, stepped in. She carried her tablet in

215---As Mrs. Abbott, Jake, and Edgar continued their hushed plotting in the booth, the tension between them was palpable. The dim light above them cast jagged shadows on their faces, matching the sharp edges of their schemes.“Tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Abbott said, her voice barely above a whisper, “we leak the documents. By the time Falck arrives at the office, the board will already be sharpening their knives.”Jake’s grin widened. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he realizes he’s been outmaneuvered.”Edgar, however, tapped his fingers nervously on the table. “We need to be careful. If he gets even a whiff of this before we’re ready…”“He won’t,” Mrs. Abbott interrupted, her tone icy and final. “We’ve covered our tracks.”At the bar, the figure discreetly sent another text: **They’re pushing ahead. I’ll keep you updated.** ---The next morning, the atmosphere in the company tower was electric. The usual hum of activity had shifted into something more charged. Empl

217---The café door chimed as Falck stepped out into the brisk night air, his mind racing. The Architect. The name lingered, sharp and deliberate, like the move of a chess piece Falck hadn't accounted for. If this "Architect" wanted to play games, they were about to find out he didn’t lose.---Back in the dim cell, Mrs. Abbott stared at the USB drive on the table. Jake, finally standing, paced nervously. "Are we really going to trust some shadowy stranger?" he muttered. Mrs. Abbott didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she ran a finger along the edge of the drive, her mind calculating. Edgar broke the silence. "Do we have a choice? Falck's already won round one. If this 'visitor' has the resources they claim, it might be our only shot." Jake stopped pacing, glaring at Edgar. "And what if it's a trap? We plug this thing in, and boom—Falck gets everything on us." Mrs. Abbott finally spoke, her tone icy and authoritative. "If we do nothing, we're already dead in the water. Get

219The wooden door creaked open, and Alvar stepped into the antique shop, the familiar scent of aged books and polished brass enveloping him. The faint hum of conversation mixed with the occasional clink of porcelain and the rustle of paper. The shop was livelier than he remembered, its patrons bustling around, poring over dusty leather-bound books, porcelain figurines, and curiosities that seemed to come from every corner of the world.Alvar hesitated at the threshold, momentarily overwhelmed by the chaos inside. It had been years since he’d last visited this place. Back then, it had been a quiet refuge—a small, dimly lit sanctuary where time seemed to stand still. Now, it felt… different. More crowded, more alive. And yet, something about it still called to him.He stepped inside, his shoes scuffing softly against the worn wooden floorboards. **"Just a little peace,"** he murmured to himself, slipping his hands into his coat pockets and beginning to wander. As he weaved through th