Laird’s POV


    I walked further into the building, passing wooden doors along the corridor. I stopped right at the second door at the end of the dead-end corridor. However, doubt momentarily held my hand back in the air.


    Was I really going to do this? Was this the right thing to do?C0ntent ? 2024 (N/?)velDrama.Org.


    A few times, I carefully weighed my decision. Come on, I had made it this far. It wouldn’t be funny if I had to turn back just because of personal grudges. I should finish this as quickly and professionally as possible.


    I cleared my throat before finally summoning the courage to knock on the enemy’s door. I stood waiting, repeatedly adjusting my tie and quickly rotating my shoulders. My forehead furrowed as no one opened the door, even though the receptionist had clearly said that Prosecutor Golden was confirmed to be inside his office. I knocked three more times, just to be sure.


    “Go away, Evans!”


    A harsh, deep voice came from inside the room. I snorted after hearing the prosecutor’s rude dismissal. I looked up at the top corner of the door and saw a small CCTV camera mounted there, observing my movements. Instead of giving up and leaving, I pressed my body closer to the door with both hands resting on its edge.


    “This is about n Schmidt,” I grumbled at the closed wooden door.


    I waited in silence. There was no sound for a few seconds. When I raised my hand to knock again, the door suddenly opened. Prosecutor Golden stood before me with a fierce gaze and a scowling mouth.


    “If you want toin about that scandal, you should go to the police station.”


    “I want you to arrest him, so I brought information for you.”


    The man raised an eyebrow. Slowly, he stepped back and gave me some room to enter his office.


    Prosecutor Golden’s office wasn’t veryrge, but it was sufficient to amodate visitors with a long conference table, several chairs, and three sets of assistant desks. At the end of the room was arge ck wooden desk with a small namete reading “Prosecutor Golden” on it. There were also piles of documents and cardboard boxes on the floor. Metal cabs lined the other end of the room.


    “I don’t have coffee for you.”


    “That’s fine with me. But at least, may I sit?”


    “As you please.”


    The man then took a seat at one of the chairs opposite me at the conference table. His gaze was probing, but I didn’t immediately falter. This time, I had to face my own demon and conquer him to make him my weapon.


    “I see all your assistants have gone home.”


    “I only have one assistant, and he is in Andover with your hired snitch.”


    “Oh,e on. He’s your former assistant. No need to belittle him with such harsh terms.” I snorted with a smallugh.


    “I can call anyone whatever I want. If you don’t like it, leave.”


    “I thought you would be interested in cooperating on n Schmidt.”


    “It depends on what you have.” He shrugged with his lips twisted again, showing how much he enjoyed belittling me.


    “I have direct ess, an insider who can get what you want, and a history you might not know.”


    “What made you change your mind?”


    “I want to remove him from my life. He’s been bothering me, so I will retaliate.”


    “Huh. So you’re not a ruthless shark chasing around your prey like your father. Apparently, you’re just a snake enjoying your cozy nest.” The man’s elbows rested on the table now. His body leaned forward. I knew he was starting to be interested in what I had to offer.


    “I’ve learned not to be like my father.”


    Hearing my words, the man burst outughing loudly. It was quite excessive.


    “Seems like Old Evans failed to raise his heir properly.”


    “He failed long before I was a child. He just got worse at covering up his mistakes since you stole my mother.”


    Malcolm Golden fell silent. He stared at me with a stiff jaw. We stared at each other until he finally snorted and shook his head.


    “Alright. Consider me indebted to you. Tell me what you need from me.”


    “Concrete action.”


    “An arrest? On what basis? We don’t have evidence.”


    “He is Amy Schmidt’s stepbrother. They lived together for six years before Amy married Peter Morgan.”


    “Nothing new. My assistant already knows that now.” The man shrugged.


    “What about his business operations?” I ced a thick stack of documents on the table. “Business contract copies. You can track his transactionwork, and I’m sure you’ll find something there.”


    “Hey, hey, wait a minute, kid.” The man pressed down on the stack of documents with his palm. It was as if he was pushing the documents back toward me.


    “You know yourwyer’s license could be revoked if it’s found out you gave this to me, right? After all, aren’t you his personalwyer? Are you going to bite the hand that feeds you?”


    My neck tensed, and my temples twitched at his words. I grated my teeth and hissed at him.


    “One, I’m not a dog, and I don’t take food from him. Two, I’d be grateful if he got my license revoked.”


    “Hm, do you have a side business? A recement candidate for Peter Morgan, perhaps?” He pulled his face back and looked at me sternly as if suspicious.


    “My business is legitimate, and it has nothing to do with their shady business. In fact, you can easily see all the data about my business online.”


    He nced at the documents on the table. Then he looked at me again before finally pulling the stack of documents to his side of the table.


    “I’ll find a way to ess their data.”


    “At least you know where to look.” I took out another stack of documents for him. “In fact, I started seeing a pattern before investigating these documents.”


    “Tell me more.”


    The man leaned forward again.


    “This is just my analysis and wild guesses.”


    “No, Mr. Evans. Please, go ahead. I’ll listen.”


    I gazed at him in silence. He mightugh at me, but maybe it might be useful for investigation.


    “n has built a mutually beneficial businesswork and calls it a circle of celebrity friends. I call it a mafia group. The designers involved refer to their clothes and brands as art.” I leaned forward andid out my analysis clearly.


    The man blinked. He frowned and looked at me again as if I were a madman inventing a story about the apocalypse. He shook his head several times.


    “You mean priceless art?” His forehead furrowed, and he remained silent, pondering all I had said.


    “I told you, it’s all just my wild guesses. You might have more ess and resources to form your own analysis.”


    “You don’t expect me to search for all the data myself, do you? What’s your n for this coboration?”


    “As I said, an insider who can pull information.”


    I straightened up in my chair again. He stared at me for a long time, and I just hoped he didn’t know that I was still betting on getting that information. I swallowed to ease the tension in my neck. Finally, the prosecutor nodded with his lips pursed.


    “Well, Mr. Evans, if only you had chosen to be a prosecutor first, I’m sure we’d make a spectacr team.” His lips curled into a thin smile.


    “You know I would never have a choice in the legal field.”


    “Yes. Is that why you want to leave the legal field and switch to entrepreneurship?”


    “That’s just one of the millions of reasons.” I stood up and straightened my suit.