"What the hell are you doing here?" Charles’s low growl filled the corridor, followed by the steady, muted thuds of his heels against the carpet as he headed straight toward Antony.
After leaving Room 2, he’d been startled to spot two familiar silhouettes walking toward Room 1. Kaija’s shimring honey blonde hair wasn’t a surprise, but the unmistakable chestnut of the tall man beside her froze him in place. Not only had that bastard half-brother of his dared to return to this floor, he’d even pressed his lips to her forehead.
"I’m fulfilling my responsibilities toward my trainee, as you can see," Antony said with an easy shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips as he savored the look on Charles’s face. "We wrapped up our session rather late today, and I wanted to make sure she got back safely."
Charles stopped an arm’s length away. This punk was using that sa "responsibilities" excuse again. "What sort of session requires her to work this late?" he shot back. He was sure no dance classes ran at these hours.
"Recording session," Antony replied coolly. "She’s competing in the festival."
"Recording?" Charles raised a brow, surprise slipping into his tone. "She’s competing?" If Kaija was competing, why hadn’t Camille told him?
"She is," Antony confird. "And I’m going to make sure she wins. I’m producing her track."
Charles’s brow furrowed. "Didn’t you quit producing?"
"I did, thanks to you," Antony sneered, "but she really is sothing, and I’d like to contribute to her future as a KE artist."
"What sort of contribution requires that kind of affectionate display?" Charles snapped coldly. He didn’t even want to say "forehead kiss" out loud.
"Oh?" Antony’s eyes narrowed, the gold in them glinting with amusent. "Since when did my perfectly rational, responsible brother start caring about such puny, useless details?"
Charles’s face twitched at the insolent tone, but his voice remained calm and steely. "Listen well, Antony. Kaija Sepala is one of the most important investnts KE is making right now. Don’t you dare distract her or damage her future with your selfish personal desires. Know your place and behave yourself, like the good bastard child you’ve always been, brother."
Antony’s smirk vanished at the threat and his half-brother’s contemptuous stare. He walked past Charles, his voice dropping low. "I assure you, everything I’m doing is in Kaija’s best interest. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a track to work on."
"Before you go," Charles’s voice ca again, "you should know Max has expressed interest in attending the festival this year."
Antony froze mid-step. "Why would he, all of a sudden? I thought he said entertainnt was a worthless field?"
"How would I know?" Charles’s mouth curved into an insidious smirk. "I’m only informing you so you can get... ntally prepared."
Antony scoffed over his shoulder. "I’m not the sa child the two of you could toss around and play with however you liked anymore. Your concern is wasted, brother." He stord toward the elevator and left without another word.
Left alone in the corridor, Charles’s smirk broke into a sharp chuckle.
Max was the eldest of the three Kosonen brothers. He was forty this year, just two years older than Charles.
Unlike Antony, whose mother was rely a housemaid who had taken her own life, Max and Charles were both sons of the Madam of the house. Between the two, Max had always been the more relentless and vicious when it ca to giving Antony a hard ti growing up in the house.
Like Charles, Max controlled multiple companies within Kosonen Group, making them direct rivals for the chairman seat their father currently held.
Though Charles had told Antony he didn’t know why Max suddenly wanted to attend the festival, deep down he could already guess. His precious elder brother would never step into a recording label he never cared about, unless his true intention was to probe into Charles’s weaknesses.
Lately, rumors had been circulating among the dia companies under Kosonen Group — rumors that Charles Kosonen had deliberately voted against releasing the evidence exposing Simo Isota’s cris.
As for why, there were many different theories. So claid the chairman’s second son had secretly shaken hands with the crooked politician in exchange for future political favors. Others suggested Simo Isota had gotten hold of Charles’s weakness, and that this weakness was hidden sowhere inside KE, the recording label Charles oversaw.
Given Max’s massive network of hidden spies, he’d surely heard that KE had recently signed a singer with no clear background, scouted overnight by the CEO himself.
That sa singer had also conveniently been absent from KE campus during the period negotiations with Simo Isota were taking place. Yet the mont she returned, Charles Kosonen had abruptly flipped his vote and pushed for the evidence to be released to the police.
Even idiots could tell that everything that’d happened couldn’t have been just coincidences.
Slowly, Charles stepped closer to Room 1, placing a hand on the door handle.
He had the key card to her room in the inner pocket of his vest jacket. He could walk in right now, climb onto her bed, pull her into his arms, and tell her how much he’d missed her, but his mind kept telling him what a terrible idea that would be.
He’d done too much to climb this far, to gain this much power in Kosonen Group. He’d forced himself to keep his distance all this ti for her safety. One mont of weakness, and everything he’d built and endured could go to waste.
Reluctantly, his hand dropped from the handle.
Then his phone vibrated in his pocket. He picked up imdiately when he saw who was calling.
"Good news?" he asked flatly.
"Yes, sir," the voice on the other end replied. "We spotted a black sedan passing the road near the campus’s back entrance, and five minutes later, Ms. Sepala was seen walking to the gate, though she wasn’t spotted on any of the previous roads."
"Can you identify the vehicle? The driver?"
"The plate was fake, sir, and the driver wore a black mask and cap. We couldn’t identify him. But we spotted the sa model leaving the campus shortly after you and Ms. Sepala left, the day she was kidnapped. The parking gate cara identified the driver as a photographer working at KE. That was the only ti he drove a sedan to the campus."
Charles’s brow furrowed. A photographer? He rembered Kaija’d been in the middle of a photoshoot that day, before he’d taken her out. And when he’d kissed her outside that studio, the photographer had seen it and thrown him a look.
That young punk had smiled brightly while walking past them, pretending he hadn’t seen a thing. But in those green, smiling eyes, Charles had noticed sothing he recognized instantly as a man. It was a look of jealousy.
"What’s the na of this photographer?" Charles asked. His tone was calm, but a smirk was already forming.
"Juho Maley," ca the reply. "He’s been a freelance photographer at KE for almost a year now, sir."
"Get everything you can on Juho Maley and send it straight to my office," Charles said. "And be careful not to scare the tiger out of its cave."
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