Andrew shook his head, "I'm not sure. Although these photos alone might anger Atlas, given his calculated nature, he'll likely choose to stay calm." "True," Natasha agreed. "Atlas is too shrewd. When he sees these photos, his first instinct will be to control his anger toward Finley. We need to push further, make Atlas so furious he'll turn against Finley completely." Dylan shrugged. "Going further means catching them in the act. But where are we going to get that kind of evidence?" "Where are Finley and Yvonne now?" Andrew asked. "They went to the lounge after the gala, but we don't have cameras there," Dylan replied. Natasha sighed, "We obviously can't install surveillance in the lounges—that would offend too many important people." Just then, Antonio came in with news. "Madam, Mr. Garner, Mr. Lloyd—Yvonne has already left the estate." "So this operation wasn't perfect," Natasha said, rubbing her temples. "Without concrete evidence between Yvonne and Finley, we don't ha
Andrew set down the glasses and nodded to them both. "Both glasses contain traces of the drug. Since Finley and Yvonne used this lounge, it's safe to assume they both consumed it." "So, Finley drugged Yvonne," Natasha blurted out. "Which means he wanted to…" "He wanted to sleep with her," Dylan cut in eagerly. "Everything before was just an act. He secretly drugged Yvonne, and they might be in the middle of it right now!" Natasha's face lit up with excitement. "That's got to be it! That sly bastard Finley really knows how to play dirty." "Quick, we need to find out where Finley and Yvonne went," Andrew urged. "The drug acts fast. Based on when they left, it should be taking effect right about now." Natasha smirked coldly. "Leave it to my people to handle this. We'll track them down and catch them in the act." She turned to Andrew with an amused smile. "Impressive. Even in this mess, you still managed to uncover a lead, darling." Without Andrew's sharp observation and noti
"I can't believe a powerful woman like Madam Vostokoff would lose her head over a worthless man. How disappointing," Aspen muttered, finally suppressing her humiliation and anger. "Come on, Christie. If she doesn't recognize our value, we'll go to Mr. Giordano in the Northern District," she declared. "Aspen, there are many ways to expand our family's business into Jayrodale," Christina said worriedly. "I don't think you need to deal with underground figures like them. Their methods are often questionable, and I'm concerned—" Aspen interrupted with a dismissive laugh, "I know what you're worried about, Christie. You're afraid I'm too naïve and might get played by them, right? Don't underestimate me. Just watch—soon, the two of us will make such a name for ourselves in Jayrodale that no one will dare look down on us." Christina frowned slightly, her instincts telling her that her cousin from the main family was being too hasty. Nonetheless, given Aspen's headstrong nature, which
Members of West End were already negotiating with the hotel's security staff at the entrance. However, the hotel's security guards were clearly unfazed by West End's reputation and blocked the entrance without hesitation. Dylan's face darkened, and he stepped forward, ready to force their way in. Andrew quickly stopped him, saying, "Don't make a scene!" Dylan argued, "Mr. Lloyd, if we don't get in now, Finley might be slipping away soon!" Andrew shook his head. "Relax, the effects of cantharides last at least half a day." Natasha chimed in, "This hotel belongs to the Rhodes family, and West End has a decent relationship with them. Let me try." She approached the entrance with a cold expression. "Move aside. I'm Natasha Vostokoff from West End." The guards exchanged uneasy glances, clearly intimidated by her commanding presence. One of them finally mustered the courage to say, "Madam Vostokoff, the hotel has been reserved for the night. Mr. Rhodes has ordered that no on
"Since you're not leaving, suit yourself," Michael said with a shrug. He had his men bring over a couch and plopped down at the entrance like a stubborn bouncer. "But today, our hotel is closed to the public, so we might as well get comfortable waiting here." "You idiot," Natasha snapped, her temper flaring. "Looks like I'll need to teach you a lesson since you think I'm bluffing." However, Andrew merely chuckled. "Since Mr. Rhodes seems to enjoy playing concierge so much, let's not disturb his new career choice." Michael's face twitched as he suppressed his rage while Andrew kept taunting him with concierge jokes, making the humiliation almost unbearable. He had no choice though—Finley was currently having a steamy affair with Atlas' mistress inside. Michael had to guard the hotel well because the consequences would be devastating if this got exposed. However, if he could satisfy Finley, Michael would finally have an involvement with the Hidden Dragons organization. Andre
Aspen stood up gracefully and said, "Well then, Christie and I will take our leave. And I'd like to offer my early congratulations to you on your inevitable dominance of Jayrodale's underworld—this will create an even better foundation for our partnership." Atlas was thoroughly pleased with himself. He boasted, "Ms. Stevens, you clearly have excellent foresight, knowing that I'll soon control all of Jayrodale's underworld. Before long, you'll witness the golden age of our Northern District." Just then, one of Atlas's top lieutenants entered with a troubled expression and signaled urgently to speak with him. Atlas maintained his composure and said smoothly, "In that case, ladies, please excuse me from seeing you out." "Farewell, Mr. Giordano," Aspen replied with a polite smile. After leaving the Northern District, Christina turned to Aspen. "Aspen, investing 150 million dollars just like that makes me nervous." Aspen exuded complete confidence as if everything was already perf
Atlas' man quickly said, "Mr. Giordano, please calm down. These photos are from an unknown source and might not tell the whole story, and we should investigate first. Besides, Mr. Moore is our ally, and if we let this scandal tear us apart, wouldn't that play right into our enemies' hands?" Atlas snapped out of his rage and nodded repeatedly. "You're right! I almost lost my head there." His expression darkened as he realized these photos were likely Natasha's or Dylan's handiwork, meant to drive a wedge between him and Finley. "Dylan, Natasha, you're both quite devious," he muttered through gritted teeth. "But unfortunately for you, I'm not so easily manipulated." He silently vowed to deal with them both as soon as possible. Just then, another of Atlas's trusted men burst in, looking even more distressed than the man before. Atlas frowned. "What now? Why does everyone look like they're at a funeral?" The man's face was grim as he reported, "Mr. Giordano, I just received w
After his furious outburst, Atlas continued in an ice-cold voice, "Besides, even if this is Dylan and Natasha's trap, what do I have to fear? Do you think they'd dare to make a move against me on Rhodes family territory?" His men had to admit he had a point. Even if it was a trap, who would dare touch Atlas when he brought all his Northern District enforcers? Still, what truly terrified them was the possibility that Finley really was fooling around with Atlas' woman. In their world, there were certain unwritten rules, and messing with another man's woman was asking for a brutal death. … Ten minutes later, over a dozen SUVs screeched to a halt in front of the Rhodes family hotel. Atlas led the charge with dozens of his Northern District muscle trailing behind him, storming toward the hotel entrance. Michael was still lounging at the entrance with his legs crossed. He muttered, "Mr. Moore, I'm sticking my neck out for you here. You've got some nerve going after Mr. Giordano's
The crowd could not help but wonder if Andrew was just that hurried to die, "Dragon Claw Strike!" With a low, lethal growl, Ellis struck, his eyes full of murder. His hands curled into claws, shooting straight for Andrew's chest and eyes, going for nothing less than a kill shot right from the start. However, Andrew's expression did not change. He stepped back once, then again, calm and fluid. It looked casual, but every move was calculated—just enough to slip right past Ellis's deadly thrusts. "Not bad. That's some decent footwork," Ellis sneered, his tone mocking even as he circled again. Then, his wiry frame lunged low, sweeping toward Andrew with a lightning-fast kick. Andrew's voice remained quiet and steady. "Dragon Claw Strike and Golden Cicada Stance are elite techniques from Silverthorn Monastery. Too bad you only learned the shell, not the substance." He stopped moving. Like a rock in a river, his stance suddenly locked in place. Ellis's sweeping legs, fast as
The bald man, Ellis, was not some no-name street thug—he was well-known in Blumedale. Among Mosby's apprentices, he was one of the rare few with zero talent in medicine but exceptional prowess in martial arts. Insiders knew the truth—Mosby had not taken Ellis in to pass on his medical legacy or help heal the sick. He wanted muscle, someone who could handle the dirty work behind closed doors. The whispers began almost instantly among the growing crowd. "This is bad. That's Mosby's third apprentice—trained under the monks at Silverthorn Monastery. I heard he's so powerful he can crack stone with his bare hands." Another chimed in, "Genesis Dispensary isn't the kind of place you just stroll into looking for trouble. That young guy's finished." "Well… I don't know. Judging from what I saw earlier, the guy's no amateur either." "Amateur? My ass. Ellis doesn't hold back. People have died under his fists before. That punk's either going to be crippled or dead in minutes..." More a
Barely two minutes had passed, but every single one of Genesis Dispensary's enforcers lay sprawled on the ground—some unconscious, some writhing in pain, and some not even moving. Janice clutched the edge of her sleeve, her face pale as a sheet. She stared at Andrew in shock, as if not recognizing this man. The Andrew she knew was gentle, refined, eloquent—someone who had won her grandfather's respect the moment they met, a miracle doctor with endless skill. However, the Andrew standing before her now was the complete opposite—ruthless, cold-blooded, and surrounded by a sea of blood from the beatings he had just handed out. Old Hayface's legs trembled as he stared at Andrew like he had seen a ghost, thinking this was beyond insane. How could some young punk wipe out all of Genesis Dispensary's muscle like it was nothing? He shook his head furiously in denial. "Andrew, you've messed up big time—real big. Mr. Lake is on his way and—" Before he could finish, Andrew delivered t
The red Ferrari screeched to a stop in front of the famous Genesis Dispensary like a streak of lightning. The dramatic entrance instantly caught the attention of pedestrians walking by. "Who the hell do you think you are? Driving that flashy piece of crap like you own the place? Move it before we lock your ass in!" Two burly security thugs stationed at the entrance of Genesis Dispensary stomped over, cursing as they approached. Janice jumped out of the car in a panic and rushed to explain, "I'm sorry, sirs, really sorry! We'll leave right now, please don't—" However, before she could even finish her sentence, Andrew stepped forward and slapped both men across the face. Each blow landed with a crack, and neither man had time to react before their heads slammed into the pavement, completely unconscious. Janice stood frozen, wondering if Andrew had always had such an explosive temper. How had she never seen this side of him before? "You bastard! You think you can hit our guy
Ronan's Oak Apothecary had built a modest but respected reputation in Blumedale, so having him gather the herbs was a huge time-saver for Andrew. However, the moment Andrew stepped into the shop, Janice Bates came running toward him in tears. "Andrew! My grandpa… he got hurt! Someone beat him up!" she cried, sobbing uncontrollably. Andrew's brows furrowed. "Janice, stop crying for now. Take me to him." In the back room, Ronan was lying on a bed, clearly injured. Two red handprints burned across his cheeks, and his forehead was bruised and bleeding as if someone had shoved him hard against something. "Mr. Lloyd… you came," Ronan said weakly, trying to sit up. "Forgive me, I've failed you." Andrew quickly motioned for him to stop talking. "Don't waste your breath. Let's get you patched up first." After checking him over, Andrew was relieved to find that Ronan had only suffered surface wounds and a badly twisted waist. He worked swiftly, massaging the injured muscles and ap
The awkward silence lasted for almost half an hour. Eventually, Aspen regained enough strength in her legs to move again. Without a word and her face icy cold, she reached for the car door, desperate to leave. Andrew quickly grabbed her wrist and said, "I'll drive you home so you can change clothes. Especially your skirt and stockings—they're completely soaked." Aspen immediately blushed crimson, embarrassment flooding up her neck and across her cheeks. She ground her teeth angrily and snapped, "No need!" Andrew ignored her protests completely, starting the Ferrari and driving straight back to The Sovereign Residences. Neither said a word during the entire drive. Andrew genuinely did not know what to say. Everything had been perfectly normal until he suddenly crossed the line with Aspen. It was just like those old movies, where the wealthy guy ended up sleeping with his favorite maid. Technically, Andrew had not done anything wrong; Aspen was his slave, after all. Nonethe
Andrew shook his head slowly and said, "No, you're not like some middle-aged lunatic, and you're definitely not trash or a hooker. You look like a cute little bunny rabbit, just begging to be eaten up. You forced my hand, Aspen!" As soon as he finished speaking, Aspen's eyes widened in sudden panic, realizing what was about to happen. She struggled fiercely, desperate to escape Andrew's grasp. Her voice trembled with tears as she pleaded, "No, no, no! Andrew—Mr. Lloyd—I'm sorry, I admit it, I was wrong! I swear, I won't do it again, please don't do this—please, no!" Her frantic protests ended abruptly with a soft, electric whimper as Andrew silenced her, pressing his mouth firmly onto hers. What followed was a hungry, unstoppable kiss, intense and overwhelming. Aspen's clear eyes widened, her expression first filled with shame and anger, then disbelief, and finally melting into a dazed, dreamy blankness. Their rapid breathing mingled in the confined space of the Ferrari, th
Andrew let out a cold laugh as he stared at the trembling Aspen right in front of him. "What am I doing? What do you think I'm doing? When you were trying to suppress Christina and Davon earlier, you used my presence to scare them off. Don't tell me you forgot that?" Aspen flushed, both embarrassed and angry. "I didn't forget! But what I said—was any of it wrong?" Andrew snorted. "No, it wasn't wrong. But you did get one thing messed up: your grudge with Christina has nothing to do with me, so don't drag me into it just to make yourself look good. You used your own boss as a pawn. That takes some guts, Aspen." Aspen instantly felt a chill. She shrank back and begged, "I-I-I… I won't do it again, okay? Andrew, just let me down first. My butt's right up against the window, and if someone walks by and sees this, how the hell am I supposed to live that down?" The corner of Andrew's lips curved into a teasing grin. "Isn't that perfect? You're my little secretary. This? This is very
Someone joked loudly, "But we get it… I mean, with a secretary like that, why would you even look at anyone else?" The others burst into raucous laughter, not bothering to hide it even in front of Aspen's increasingly dark expression. "Exactly!" another chimed in. "Mr. Lloyd is living the dream. Damn, I look at my office girl and suddenly feel dead inside!" "Mr. Lloyd's not just talented—he's got the best of both worlds. That little secretary of his is a top-tier beauty!" A bespectacled executive chuckled crudely and added, "Mr. Lloyd, let me give you a piece of advice: when there's work, let the secretary handle it; when there's no work, handle the secretary! That line fits you perfectly!" The entire room erupted in laughter as Aspen's face flushed deep red, her cheeks burning. Furious, she shot Andrew a murderous glare, then stormed out of the room in her heels without a word. Andrew, looking utterly unbothered, leisurely followed behind. He even muttered to himself, "Han