As I lean into the arms of my sexy gym trainer, I randomly come across a forum post that displays my home's coordinates in its IP address.

"Everyone, what should I do if I've accidentally ruined my boss' husband's luxurious custom-fitted suit when I was washing it earlier? I'm just an assistant, so there's no way I can afford to pay for it!"

At first glance, I can tell that the post is made by Archie Carter, the personal assistant of Valerie Henderson, whom I've married via a marriage alliance.

Someone leaves a scathing comment in the post.

"What else can you do? Cough up the payment, of course! What's the point in making this post?"

"You call yourself an assistant when in reality, you're nothing but a pretentious phony! You think you can get away with making mistakes just by crying about how poor you are?"

Archie quickly replies, "I wanted to compensate for the damages, but when Ms. Henderson found out about it, she already made me 'compensate' using other methods. I used the whole night to pay the price, you know!"

One can only imagine how wild the night could have been for Valerie and Archie.

I just laugh before sharing the post to my admirers' group chat.

"Whoever can knock off Henderson Group's stock price by five points gets to replace that useless wife of mine."

"Mr. Pearce, Henderson Group's stock really did drop below five points."

My assistant, Watson Gray's voice came through the line as I leaned back against the leather seat of my private jet, tracking candlestick charts on my tablet.

Henderson Group's stock had started plunging at 2:00 pm. Trading volume had spiked, and the stock was now down 5.3%.

"Understood," I said before hanging up and tapping on WhatsApp.

The group chat "Stargazers" had accumulated hundreds of new messages.

Mireille Robillard: "I had three financial influencers dig into Henderson Group's accounts. There were some questionable entries on their last-quarter report's accounts receivable."

Lana Gaudreau: "I contacted an asset analysis firm. They're drafting the report now."

Cheryl Dobson: "I'm digging into Henderson Group's environmental compliance issues. It'll blow up tomorrow!"

The last message came from my childhood friend, Stacey Robinson, heiress of Robinson Group.

"Five points done. Not a single percent more or less."

I let out a soft laugh and replied, "That was fast."

"I've been waiting three years to hear you say that," she instantly texted back. "How could I not be fast?"

I smiled. Just as I was about to type my reply, my phone rang. It was Valerie Henderson.

"Kieran Pearce," she hissed in a voice tight with fury. "Are you the one behind Henderson Group's stock crash?"

"Ms. Henderson," I slowly replied. "The stock market carries inherent risks, and investors should invest with caution. How is Henderson Group's falling stock any of my business?"

"Who else could it be other than you?" she practically shouted. "Is this all because I didn't make Archie compensate for your stupid suit?"

"Stupid suit?" I chuckled. "Valerie, that 'stupid suit' cost 870,000 crown dollars, and it was an 18th-birthday gift from my mom. Your personal assistant intentionally ruined it in the wash, and now, you're blaming me for being the petty one?"

"He was just trying to do a good job! Besides, he saved my life once. Forget a suit; I would even give him one of my sports cars as an apology if I had to."

"Trying to do a good job?" I mockingly cut her off. "Is that why he uploaded a sob post at 2:00 am, pinning it to my place's location tag and claiming I was 'trampling all over his dignity'?

"Besides, he saved your life, not mine. Since when did I agree to let you use my belongings to repay your personal debts?"

Ever since Archie Carter made that post, the hashtag #KieranPearceVsHendersonGroupCEOAssistantSuitScandal had climbed to the top of the trending charts.

Everyone tuned in to watch the drama unfold, leaving a chaotic mix of both positive and negative comments.

Some even went so far as to spam Pearce Group's official Twitter page under the pretense of defending working-class rights.

On the other end of the line, Valerie fell dead silent for three seconds. When she spoke, her voice had turned cold.

"Archie only made that post because you pushed him too far.

"I know you look down on him, Kieran, but he earns a living with his own hands. People like him deserve more respect than someone like you, who was born rich."

I was so furious that I laughed.

"Do you even hear yourself, Valerie? Why are you acting like you're a self-made employee earning a living with your own hands?"

"Of course, I know what I'm saying," Valerie snapped back. "Our arranged marriage is strictly business, Kieran. You've benefited from all the resources the Henderson family has brought to the table, so the least you can do is show some self-awareness as my partner.

"Archie is just an assistant. Do you really find it that fun to pick on him?"

I looked out the window at the rolling sea of clouds and suddenly realized that this petty back-and-forth was indeed a waste of time.

"Valerie, since you mentioned that this is an arranged marriage, let's talk business."

"Business?"

"Yes, business," I replied, straightening up in my seat. "Henderson Group and Pearce Group have six partnership projects, totaling 3.7 billion dollars.

"Right now, Pearce Group's stock is also taking a hit because of what your assistant did. We dropped three points today. Do you have any idea how much money three points represent?"

While Valerie was too stunned for a reply, I continued in a clear, loud voice, "It's 1.1 billion dollars. 1.1 billion dollars in market value evaporated into thin air, all because your assistant decided to make a sob story on the Internet."

Valerie fell completely silent.

"I'm giving you two options," I added. "First, have Archie make a public apology, admitting he ruined my suit on purpose and intentionally smeared my reputation online, then send him out of Oakhaven for good."

"No way!"

She shut down the idea without a second thought. "What did Archie even do wrong? He was just trying to work hard—"

"Second," I cut her off. "We get a divorce. You remember section seven of our prenuptial agreement, don't you?"

A sharp, quick breathing came through the receiver.

Section seven of the prenuptial agreement stated that if a major fault committed by one party resulted in dissolution of the marriage, the liable party was legally required to transfer 15% of their stocks to the other.

"Are you threatening me, Kieran?"

"I'm laying out your choices," I added. "You have three days. I'll be waiting for your answer."

…

Three days later, I returned to the villa as planned to retrieve some project documents.

The moment I opened the door, I spotted Archie crouched by the entryway, polishing shoes with my custom cashmere scarf, which I had casually hung beside the door.

"Mr. Pearce!"

The moment he saw me, he sprang to his feet and stood with his spine rigidly straight, clutching the filthy, stain-ruined scarf tightly.

"Y-You're back…"

I glanced at the scarf in his hands. The cashmere was stretched out of shape and soiled with shoe polish.

Looking him directly in the eye, I said, "That scarf cost 4,000 gaul dollars. Starting this month, your salary is automatically deducted until that amount is fully paid off."

He immediately paled, and his lips trembled. "I didn't mean to... I just noticed how soft it was, so I thought using it to polish the shoes would—"

"Would what?" I interrupted. "My house has designated shoe cloths, Archie, and the housekeepers handle the shoe maintenance. You've been here with Valerie at least ten times, so there's zero chance you wouldn't know that."

"I-I just wanted to help polish the shoes…"

Tears began to well up in Archie's eyes, but his gaze remained stubborn. "I know I'm stupid, but I'm trying my best to learn. You can't use these luxury goods to humiliate me just because I'm poor, Mr. Pearce."

"Humiliate you?"

I laughed and replied, "Archie, if you ruin someone else's stuff, you pay for it. That's a concept taught in preschool.

"What? Are you saying that being poor exempts you from basic accountability?"

"I never said that!" he barked back, raising his voice. "I'll pay you back! I, Archie Carter, might be poor, but I'll never run away from a debt!

"This is my debit card with 30,000 dollars in it. It's everything I've managed to save over the years…"

He slapped the card onto the coffee table and tilted his chin up as he looked at me like a proud rooster refusing to back down from a fight.

"As for the remainder, I'll pay you 6,000 dollars every month. I did the math. It'll take me… 11 years, but it's fine. I'll clear it one day.

"I can work my day job and take part-time gigs at night. I can—"

"Your math is wrong."

I picked up the debit card and casually spun it between my fingers. "That suit is currently valued at 920,000 crown dollars, which translates to roughly 8 million dollars.

"With a monthly pay of 6,000 dollars, it'll take you over 110 years to clear the principal, and that's not even accounting for the interest."

Archie was utterly stunned.

"Besides," I said, flicking the card back onto the coffee table. "That doesn't even cover the dry-cleaning bill, Mr. Carter."

Teardrops rolled out of his eyes, but he bit his lip hard and refused to let a single sob escape his lips. That whole "strong yet wronged" act was a textbook masterclass in manipulation.

I was so amused that I almost laughed, but just as I opened my mouth to speak, footsteps came from the stairs.

Valerie rushed down, and her brows twisted into a tight frown the moment she noticed that Archie was crying.

"Kieran! Did you target him again?"

"Me? Targeting him?"

I glanced at the scarf and added, "Ms. Henderson, your assistant just used a 4,000-gaul-dollar cashmere scarf to polish shoes. How am I picking on him, just because I'm demanding he pay for the damages?"

Valerie looked at the misshapen scarf in his hands and was momentarily at a loss for words. "Archie was just trying to help…"

When her gaze swept past the pale pink crescent birthmark exposed on the side of his neck, her tone immediately softened.

That birthmark was an obsession she had kept a secret for 20 years.

When she was a child, her stepmom had abandoned her in an old district. A young boy bearing an identical birthmark had shared his food with her and saved her from starving to death. She had recently tracked him down.

"He doesn't understand anything about these luxury goods. You could have just taught him instead of—"

"Why should I teach him?" I interrupted. "He's your assistant, not my little brother, Valerie. I pay him to help you with work, not to come into my house and destroy my belongings."

"You—"

Livid, Valerie snapped, "Could you not be so mean, Kieran? Archie already has it tough enough…"

I couldn't help but laugh. "He has it tough? He earns 6,000 dollars a month and spends every day ruining my belongings under the excuse of work. Is that what you call having it tough?"

I walked up to Archie and looked at his pale face.

"Mr. Carter, it's highly commendable that you wish to strive and improve, but if you destroy my belongings, you should pay for them. Don't make promises you can't keep if you can't afford to pay."

He stared hard at me with tears still streaming down his face, but a different emotion had flared up in his eyes—pure resentment.

"Mr. Pearce," he said in a shaking voice. "I know you look down on me. You were born with everything, so naturally, you don't understand the struggles of people like us. But let me tell you something—even if I, Archie Carter, starve to death, I'll never beg for your charity!"

"Wise words."

I clapped my hands and added, "Then I must ask you to leave my house right this second, Mr. Carter. As for the compensation… We'll settle it in court."

"Kieran!"

Valerie pulled Archie behind her back and snapped, "Do you have to take it this far?"

I looked at them and smiled. That was such a classic scene of a wealthy businesswoman shielding her innocent young prince.

"I'm giving you your final chance, Valerie. Otherwise, we'll handle it according to the law. Intentional destruction of property involving an especially large sum carries a sentence of three to seven years in prison.

"Would you like to try that, Mr. Carter?"

Archie completely panicked. He grabbed Valerie's arm and begged, "Valerie, I-I don't want to go to prison…"

Valerie glared at me with eyes that seemed laced with poison. "You're ruthless, Kieran."

"Nowhere as much as you," I said, tucking my phone away. "I'm giving you five minutes. Get the hell out of my house, both of you."

With that, I turned around and headed upstairs to retrieve my files, instructing the butler to make sure that every piece of Archie's personal belongings was cleared out under strict supervision.

…

Three days later, the joint venture project between Pearce Group and Henderson Group, "Pearce-Henderson One" commercial complex, hosted its opening gala.

The project represented a half-billion-dollar investment that took two full years to complete, serving as the symbol of a deep corporate alliance between the two families.

The gala was hosted in the Skyreach Ballroom on the top floor of the complex.

Every prominent figure in Oakhaven's elite circle had arrived. The media crew lined the venue with microphones and flashing cameras that never stopped for a second.