Later that day, Simon sat at the head of the long glass conference table, the city skyline stretching behind him like a kingdom under his control. But tonight, it wasn’t control he was interested in. It was revenge.The room was dim, the only source of light coming from the glow of multiple laptop screens and the sleek, high-tech dashboard displayed on the massive wall monitor. His team—handpicked, ruthless, and the best in their fields—were locked in, fingers flying across keyboards, scanning through data, tracking digital footprints.The source of the attack had to be found. And it had to be done fast.Rachel stood at his right, arms crossed. “We’ve confirmed the tabloid was paid to run the story.”Simon raised an eyebrow. “Paid?”She nodded, pulling up a financial record on her tablet. “A large anonymous deposit hit their accounts three weeks ago. Offshore. Routed through multiple shell companies.”Simon’s lips curved into a small smirk. “Someone’s playing dirty.”Rachel sighed. “T

The Grandiose Hotel glimmered like a monument to wealth and status. Its glass façade reflected the skyline like a mirror—clean, cold, and unbothered. Luxury cars lined the front entrance, and bellhops in white gloves flitted between guests like well-trained dancers. Inside, the lobby was all marble and murmurs—fountains whispering, jazz playing low, the perfume of old money lingering in the air.Simon stepped out of his matte black SUV with the quiet confidence of a man who’d earned every inch of his success. No entourage. No need for theatrics. Just a tailored charcoal blazer, black trousers, leather duffel in hand. He walked with purpose, but not urgency—each step echoing across the polished stone like it belonged there.He had a reservation. Penthouse suite. Paid in full. Arranged weeks in advance.But Manager Thornton didn’t see any of that.Thornton stood behind the check-in counter like a gatekeeper to some sacred temple—immaculately dressed, thin-rimmed glasses perched on a nar