His mind raced, searching for answers. Could this man have been sent by Es? Or perhaps Ray or his brothers? But that didn’t make sense. If they knew the full extent of his sches, they would have handed him over to the police already, not watched this charade unfold.
And yet, in his fury and confusion, he overlooked one crucial detail. He didn’t truly know Es. Not her capabilities. Not her limits.
Hearing Aaron’s words, the old man’s face turned pale for a fleeting mont before his expression hardened, his pride and determination quickly taking over. He had faced countless challenges in his life, and he had always erged victorious. Es was no different. Yes, she had shaken his empire. Yes, she had killed his daughter and chipped away at his power. But the old man was no stranger to war—he thrived on it.
Before Es, he had held absolute dominance in the family. Even now, with 40% of the company under his control, he still held more than anyone else. Each brother controlled 10%, and Es, on paper, only had 20%. But that woman... she had turned the tables. Those fools—his brothers—had handed their shares to her, and she had beco more powerful than him without even needing to claim the throne outright.
Even her death brought him no peace. Es’s influence lingered like a shadow, her allies still standing, ready to strike if the truth ever ca to light. If they ever found out that he had orchestrated their parents’ deaths... If they discovered he had been manipulating them from the start...
He tightened his grip on the armrest of his chair, his knuckles white with restrained fury. But fear? No, fear wasn’t sothing the old man allowed himself to feel. He wasn’t the kind to roll over and accept defeat. He had fought too hard, clawed his way too high, to let so ghosts or petty alliances bring him down.
As for the Aaron brothers, he dismissed them without a second thought. To him, they were re rchants—successful, perhaps, but still insignificant in the grand sche of his plans. Their accomplishnts were nothing compared to his.
So, while the entire country celebrated the success of the Aron brothers, the old man regarded it with nothing but disdain. In his eyes, they were useless—a bunch of simpletons whose greatest achievents would be to marry and have children, nothing more. That’s why he never objected when his relatives began scheming to find "suitable" matches for them. To him, it didn’t matter.
If the brothers ended up marrying incompetent or weak-willed spouses, it would work in his favor. The entire family would eventually fall into his grasp, and he would tighten his control over the legacy he believed was rightfully his. He thought his strategy flawless, foolproof.
But who could have predicted the twist of fate? Those "idiotic bastards," as he called them, had found Es.
At first, the old man didn’t think much of her. To him, Es was nothing more than a rebellious girl—a nobody who had defied her own parents and disregarded family traditions. What could a girl like that possibly achieve? She was impulsive, reckless, and had no respect for regulations or the sanctity of lineage.
In his eyes, she was insignificant.
What he failed to see—what his arrogance blinded him to—was that Es was far more than a re girl. She was calculating, unyielding, and utterly fearless. She didn’t just ignore the rules; she shattered them and built her own.
But at that mont, the old man’s pride wouldn’t let him acknowledge the truth. Es was just another obstacle, and obstacles, no matter how formidable, could always be crushed underfoot. Or so he thought.
The old man had discovered Es Valhale’s identity long before anyone else in his family could even piece together the puzzle. While his relatives floundered in confusion, he already knew the truth. He wasn’t so naive fool to believe in miracles or fate—he had seen too much of the world to entertain such absurdities.
Two won with the sa face? One vanishing just as the other appeared? That kind of story was for the gullible, not him. He dismissed the possibility of coincidence imdiately. If soone thought they could pull the wool over his eyes with such an obvious trick, they were sorely mistaken. But even as he uncovered the deeper truth behind Es’s identity, he did sothing surprising.
He ignored it.
For him, it simply didn’t matter. Whether it was Rose Reinguard, the woman who once dared to challenge his authority, or Es Valhale, who now stood at the center of the chaos—neither na carried any weight in his world.
Power was the only thing that mattered. And power wasn’t in faces or nas; it was in control. Control over people, control over wealth, control over destiny itself.
Let them talk. Let them speculate. Whether Es was Rose reborn, a twin, or so elaborate imposter, it was irrelevant. The old man had no interest in their theatrics. He had bigger things to focus on—his empire.
To him, both Rose and Es were no more than flies buzzing around his feast. Annoying, persistent, perhaps even clever in their small ways. But flies could be swatted, crushed, forgotten.
He leaned back in his chair, the flicker of a smirk crossing his lips. Let them play their gas, let them try to unravel his plans. None of it would matter. Because when it ca down to it, all roads led to him.
What was one face, one identity, one woman, against the power he was building? The old man had seen empires rise and fall, and in his mind, his would stand above them all. And if Es Valhale thought she could stop him, she was in for the harshest lesson of her life.
But now, standing in front of this damn screen, the old man felt the weight of a thousand threats closing in. He couldn’t afford to be careless—not this ti. If this information fell into Es’s hands, it wouldn’t just expose him. She would uproot everything he had worked for, tearing him down to his very core.
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