Desired by All and He Threw Away 106

Chapter 106 

Chapter 106 

Aiden POV 

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The first time i see the pattern it hits me like a pulse beneath the surface quiet rhythmic impossible to ignore. 

Dylan isnt the problem.Not really. He’s a symptom.A loud, reckless, volatile symptom. The real toxicity lives in the people who stood behind him, shielding him like a wall they assumed would never crack. 

His investors. 

My competitors. 

and the only reason Dylan ever had the freedom to burn every bridge i them behind him., 

is because they kept rebuilding 

i stand in my office long before sunrise city lights spilling across the glass walls like scattered gold.the whole skyline hums a living thing stretching awake.i drag a hand through my hair and stare at the spreadsheet glowing on my laptop names companies timelines. 

a map of every man who chose to support Dylan despite the warnings the rumors the evidence they pretended 

not to see. 

They weren’t blind. 

They were willfully ignorant. 

And I finally know exactly where to strike. A slow breath leaves me, steady and controlled.If I want to take Dylan down, I don’t touch him.I remove the hands holding him up. 

A clean strategy. 

Cold. 

Precise. 

Satisfying. 

I reach for my phone and scroll to the draft folder–dozens of documents, screenshots, statements, financial pullbacks, internal complaint logs people buried because dealing with them was “inconvenient.” 

Some of these issues were whispered about for years, always pushed aside by the people who benefited from Dylan’s image. 

But the worst one–the one the investors pretended was just “a rumor“—was the one that told me exactly what kind of monster they were protecting. 

Dylan’s involvement with a minor. 

a girl whose life didnt matter to anyone in that boardroom because she couldnt help them profit. 

i force my jaw to unclench. 

none of these men deserve the dignity of pretending they didnt know. They just didn’t know how bad it truly 

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Chapter 106 

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was.So I’ll make them know. 

I tap my screen, sending the first wave of documents out–not to the public, not to the press, but directly and quietly to the investors. Direct lines. Private emails. Anonymous drops. Enough truth to rattle them. Enough detail to force them to finally look. 

Then I wait. 

I’m good at waiting. 

i sit back in my chair and watch the city shift through its colors deep blue to lavender to the thin wash of daylight.my phone begins vibrating around the time the sun pulls itself bove the rooftops., 

Nervous replies. 

Vague replies. 

“Where did this come from?” 

“Is this confirmed?” 

“We should discuss–privately.” 

One by one, my competitors begin to understand the storm they’ve tied their names to. 

Good. 

let it sink in. 

by mid morning the panic is setting in.i hear it through the clipped tones in their voicemails the way they hide the shake in their breathing.men who once bragged about Dylan’s “untouchable star power“now sound like they are watching a building collapse in slow motion. 

I give it another two hours before sending round two. 

This one is clearer, cleaner, organized. 

Laid out like a timeline. Unavoidable.i dont exaggerate anything.i dont need to. Dylan’s truth is ugly enough on its own., at noon i receive the message i have been waiting for: 

“Board meeting today. 3PM. We need you here.” 

Need. 

The word alone is gratifying.i slip on my suit jacket button it and glance in the mirror.I look calm. Controlled. The version of me they always underestimated. 

Good. 

Let them. 

the building is one of those sleek corporate fortresses of steel glass and money.the kind of place Dylan used to brag about walking into like he owned it. 

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Chapter 106 

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today he wont be walking into anything. 

i stride through the lobby the receptionist sitting up straighter the moment she sees me.a few people near the elevators glance my way and quickly look away the tension hanging so thick in the air it almost buzzes against my skin., 

the boardroom sits at the end of a long hallway its glass frosted just enough to blur shapes inside.voices leak through tight clipped and anxious. 

Perfect. 

I push the door open. Eight faces turn toward me. 

All tight. 

All pale. 

All already halfway to defeat. 

They look like men trying very hard not to sweat through their suits. “Aiden,” says Martin, the oldest investor, his voice strained. “Thank you for joining us.” 

“Of course.” I take the only empty seat, set my folder on the table, and meet each gaze with a calm I know unnerves them. “You said it was urgent.” 

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