LOGINThe moment the final stroke of the pen was finished, Aiden immediately reclaimed the contract. The wall safely shut with a dry "click," echoing through the silent space like the heavy thud of a prison door locking tight. Alma’s soul, her honor, and her future... all were now sealed inside that cold block of steel.Alma stood frozen, her hand still trembling as she gripped the pen. She stared at the empty space where the contract had just been, feeling as though a part of her body had been severed. A wave of bitterness rose in her throat, acrid and sharp. She had just conducted a sale where she was the primary commodity—a transaction in which she knew, with absolute certainty, she was the loser in the eyes of humanity."Is it done?"Alma spoke, her voice as dry as gravel grinding together. She looked up at Aiden; her emerald eyes no longer held weakness, but a cold, sharp hatred forged from the ashes of her self-respect."I have signed. Now, it is your turn to keep your word."Aiden st
Once again, the room fell into a bone-chilling silence. Just as Alma managed to catch enough breath to speak, Aiden—still with his back to her—spoke first, his cold voice cutting off any chance of her finding her words.“I’ve changed my mind.”Aiden turned around slowly. He brushed past her as if she were thin air, casually picking up the file on the desk and tossing it into a drawer, locking it with a sharp, dry click. He adjusted his cufflinks and blazer, his composed demeanor suggesting her presence was now merely a redundant part of the room.“I don't like hesitation. The woman who carries the heir to this lineage cannot be a coward who trembles before her only choice.” He looked up, his icy gaze sweeping over her pale face. “Remember, I am not forcing you, Alma. If you find your pride worth more than escaping your current mire, you may leave right now.”Aiden turned his back to her again to face the darkness shrouding the city beyond the glass wall. His voice rang out with indiff
The private office of the head of the Power Group on the 88th floor was submerged in a silence so heavy it felt suffocating. Aiden stood there, his tall silhouette obscuring the dying rays of the setting sun as they flickered against the floor-to-ceiling glass walls. After a long moment, he slowly turned around. The intense turbulence that had flashed in his eyes upon seeing her was gone, replaced by the cold, detached gaze of a man who held the power of life and death."Ms. Alma," Aiden began, his voice deep and slightly raspy in the hollow room. "Do you know exactly why you are here?"Alma started slightly. She adjusted her posture on the premium leather sofa, her hands interlaced tightly over her knees to conceal an uncontrollable tremor. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to keep her voice steady."Mr. Power, Mr. Nolan gave me a brief overview over the phone. I am here to apply for the position of Special Personal Assistant," she answered honestly, her emerald eyes shimmering wit
Aiden averted his gaze from the blue signal on the dashboard and tossed his phone onto the oak desk in frustration. The dull thud echoed through the silent room, marking the final snapping point of his patience. He sank into the high-end leather chair, taking a deep breath to suppress the searing pain radiating from deep within—a brutal manifestation of the malignancy he believed was gnawing away at his life. To Aiden, every tick of the clock was a cruel reminder that the hourglass of his existence was bleeding its final grains of sand. He ran his fingers through his usually impeccably groomed hair, his bloodshot, sleep-deprived eyes staring blankly into the void.That girl has arrived.An unusual sense of unease rose within him. Nolan had yet to send the detailed dossier; this final candidate remained an enigma behind the heavy oak door. He wondered: was he being too callous, preparing to turn a woman into a mere tool to sustain his empire before he breathed his last? Or was he the p
For the past week, New York had felt to Aiden like a chessboard where he was slowly losing his final pawns. He had been working relentlessly—not to close a trillion-dollar merger, but to hunt for a "worthy" woman. Someone to shoulder the heavy burden of bearing an heir to the Power Group empire before he closed his eyes for the last time.Whenever he closed his eyes, a ruthless question pierced his mind: What would the child inherit from its mother? The intellect of a genius or the greed of a gold-digger? The resilience of a warrior or the cowardice of a pragmatist? To Aiden, the child was not just a son or daughter; it was the continuation of his soul, the living proof that he had once existed brilliantly in this world.But reality dealt a stinging blow to his expectations.Nolan had sifted through hundreds of files, assembling a list of the most "elite" candidates. Yet, as predicted, the result was a resounding zero. Of the ten women who had entered his office since morning, nine ha
New York City in October always wears an air of haughtiness, with cold winds whistling through the gaps between skyscrapers like the shrieks of lost souls. On the 88th floor—the highest level of the Power Group Tower—the lights from massive tempered glass panels cast a cold, blue glow, reflecting the face of the man who stood at the helm of one of the most powerful financial empires: Aiden Power.Aiden stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, separated from the New York skyline by only a thin layer of frigid glass. He held a glass of red wine but did not drink. At thirty-two, he possessed a look that would make supermodels envious: a straight, chiseled nose, a sharp jawline, and deep eyes that held the cold, calculating gaze of a seasoned market veteran. To the world, Aiden was the embodiment of perfection—a flawless god among men.But no one knew that to achieve this majestic aura, he had endured fifteen years of brutal effort to completely shed the ghosts of his past. Immediately after







