The Sullivan Private Residence.
Deep within the estate, Ethan Sullivan reclined against the wide bed.
His fingers traced the edge of the medical report.
The private doctor adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Mr. Sullivan, the wound was treated with remarkable expertise."
"There was no secondary infection."
"Your recovery is progressing better than expected."
Ethan's indifferent gaze skimmed the pages.
Ian Watson knelt on the floor, his back drenched in cold sweat.
As Ethan's most trusted assistant, this oversight left him utterly humiliated.
Once the doctor left, Ian bowed his head in apology.
"We failed in the security sweep—"
"Get to the point," Ethan interrupted.
The air turned frigid.
Ian swallowed hard.
"The assassin has been captured."
"It was indeed Zachary Sullivan's doing."
"But the killer refuses to talk, no matter what methods we've used."
Ethan closed the report.
"Throw him into international waters."
"You know the rest."
Ian responded immediately.
"It will be handled discreetly."
Ethan picked up the book on the bedside table.
His fingers tapped lightly against the spine.
"I heard Zachary's company has some questionable accounting."
"If their cash flow were to suddenly collapse..."
Ian understood instantly.
"I'll arrange it immediately."
Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting patterns on the carpet.
Ethan suddenly looked up.
"What about the investigation on the deserted island?"
Ian paled.
"The surface records appear normal."
"But the details are untraceable."
"Her parents' information is completely blank."
A shadow flickered in Ethan's eyes.
That woman truly was an enigma.
Ian cautiously raised his head.
"Should we eliminate Sophia Sullivan?"
"She saw your legs..."
Ethan closed his eyes.
"Unnecessary."
Ian hesitated but remained silent.
He withdrew quietly.
Ethan's fingertips brushed his chest.
The memory of her cold touch lingered.
Sophia gripping his chin to force medicine down his throat.
The silhouette of her pinning him down that night.
Dangerous yet intoxicating.
Like a venomous serpent in the dark.
His phone suddenly vibrated.
Ethan's lips curved slightly.
It seemed she had made her choice.
"Made up your mind?"
His lazy tone carried amusement.
The person on the other end faltered.
"Sir... it's me."
Ethan glanced at the caller ID.
Roland, the general manager of Breeze Perfumes.
His voice turned icy.
"What is it?"
Roland wiped his sweat.
"The perfumery competition is fully prepared."
"All media outlets are in place."
"The investors have been contacted as well."
Ethan listened distractedly.
Roland continued reporting the company's performance.
But his mind drifted to the past.
Years ago, Ethan had entered the competition under Breeze Perfumes.
He rose to fame overnight but never appeared publicly.
The mystery kept the brand perpetually intriguing.
"Make it flawless." Ethan ended the call.
His gaze settled beyond the window.
Compared to pottery, perfumery was his true gift.
Only once had he ever lost.
At that Italian perfumery competition.
The opponent codenamed "Crimson Serpent" had effortlessly taken the crown.
Investigations revealed the winner was over sixty.
This year, they likely wouldn't appear.