32 On the Other Side of the City… Mr. Nelson leaned back in his grand leather chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the mahogany desk. The city skyline stretched behind him, the lights twinkling in the night like scattered stars. He had barely hung up with Helen when he pressed a button on the intercom. “Charles,” he said, his voice cool but commanding. Within seconds, the heavy double doors swung open, and Charles Emerson, his sharp-eyed young butler, stepped inside. Dressed in a crisp black suit, the man in his early thirties carried himself with effortless precision. His neatly styled dark hair and piercing gaze gave him an air of quiet competence. He inclined his head slightly. “Yes, sir?” Mr. Nelson turned the phone screen toward him, showing Jane’s post and the firestorm it had ignited. “Get this post off the internet. Now.” Charles adjusted his cufflinks, scanning the words swiftly. “I’ll have my contacts work on it immediately, sir.” Mr. Nelson’s eyes darken

34The Next Morning…Sunlight streamed through the villa’s expansive windows, casting warm golden streaks across the polished marble floor. The air carried a serene stillness, disturbed only by the distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves outside.Dylan stirred on the couch, his back stiff and aching from a restless night. Sleep had barely touched him—Jane’s betrayal, the online scandal, and the endless thoughts swirling in his mind had kept him awake. He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before finally pushing himself up. His throat felt dry.Water. I need water.As he took a step toward the kitchen, he heard heavy footsteps approaching.“Hey—”Before he could finish, a sharp, authoritative voice sliced through the air.“Stop right there!”Dylan’s head snapped up. Standing at the entrance of the living room were two of the villa’s security guards, both looking at him like he was a criminal caught in the act.The taller of the two, a broad-shouldered

36Molly huffed, pointing an accusing finger at them. “I told you!”The younger guard stammered, his cocky attitude gone. “W-We didn’t know—”“You didn’t listen.” Dylan’s voice was sharp, his patience long gone.Helen’s eyes flashed with irritation. She crossed her arms and gave the guards a cold stare. “Apologize. To both of them.”The older guard’s jaw clenched, but he swallowed his pride. “Mr. Grenville we’re sorry.”The younger one hesitated, then turned to Molly, his face red with embarrassment. “Kid, uh—Molly—we’re really sorry. We were wrong.”Molly tilted her head, unimpressed. “You were mean.”The younger guard flinched. “Yeah… yeah, we were.”Helen nodded, then took a step closer. “Now beg.”Their eyes widened. “What?” the older guard blurted.Helen arched a brow. “Did I stutter? You almost threw your boss and his four-year-old daughter out of their own house. If you want to keep your jobs, you better start groveling.”The younger guard’s face paled. He exchanged a panicked

38But before he could face his old comrades, he needed to look the part. Years of blending in had left his wardrobe uninspiring. If he was going to reestablish dominance, he had to start with presence.His eyes landed on an upscale boutique, its sleek glass windows showcasing perfectly tailored suits, each one exuding power and refinement. Without hesitation, he pulled up in front of it and stepped out.The moment he walked in, the atmosphere shifted.The soft hum of polite conversation stilled for a brief second before resuming in hushed whispers. Dylan’s sharp gaze flicked around the room, taking in the subtle yet unmistakable expressions of disdain.The salesmen, dressed in pristine suits, gave him a once-over, their smiles practiced but unimpressed. The customers, clad in designer brands from head to toe, openly stared, some even nudging their companions to whisper behind manicured hands.“Did he lose his way?” a woman muttered, eyeing his simple jeans and leather jacket as if th

40Dylan ran his fingers over the fabric of a sleek black suit, feeling the weight of Gregory’s irritation lingering in the air. Simon, the younger salesman, trailed behind him, looking like a man stuck between duty and self-preservation.Dylan smirked. “You don’t have to keep following me, you know.”Simon hesitated. “I… I was told by Mr. Gregory to assist you.”Dylan turned, leveling him with a cool look. “And I just told you that you don’t have to. You take orders from customers too, right?”Simon shifted on his feet, glancing toward where Gregory had disappeared. “Technically… yes.”“Great. Then do yourself a favor and go.” Dylan gave him a lazy grin. “I can pick a damn suit without a babysitter.”Simon chewed on the inside of his cheek, torn. Gregory had been clear, but Dylan was a customer. And if there was one thing Simon valued more than his job, it was not getting caught in unnecessary crossfire.Reluctantly, he gave a small nod. “Alright. If you need anything, I’ll be at the