Serena didn't sleep. She spent the night in the strange, luxurious apartment, using the encrypted laptop Camilo had left behind. She mapped out BeanStalk Tech's market vulnerabilities, preparing her next move before Estill could react.

The next morning, the apartment's intercom buzzed, a harsh sound in the silence. A face she knew and despised appeared on the screen.

Her father, Ace Jackson.

He looked irritated, his face too close to the camera. "Serena! I know you're in there! Open the door!"

Serena's brow furrowed. How did he find this place? She had only moved in yesterday.

She activated the speaker, her voice cold. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" he bellowed. "What did you do to Estill? He called me! You need to withdraw that ridiculous application immediately!"

His voice was thick with indignation.

"And another thing! Your sister Jessenia is the one who deserves those shares! She's about to marry Estill. Consider those shares her wedding gift from the family. It's tradition!"

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Serena's lips. "My shares as her wedding gift? Are you dreaming?"

"I earned that stock with my technology and my work. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else."

Ace's face turned purple on the small screen. "I am your father! What's yours belongs to the family! I'm ordering you to transfer the shares to Jessenia now!"

Serena cut the connection. She wouldn't waste another breath on him.

Minutes later, a call came through from the lobby's security desk. The guard sounded stressed. "Miss Jackson, your father is causing a disturbance in the lobby. We're having trouble restraining him."

Serena walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. From the penthouse, she could see a tiny figure - unmistakably Ace - shoving two uniformed guards near the entrance. His behavior was crude and reckless, the kind of impulsive aggression that belonged to someone who relied on intimidation rather than intelligence.

A deep sense of powerlessness washed over her. This was her family. A constant source of trouble and shame.

She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the 911 icon. But airing her family's dirty laundry would only hurt her.

Then she remembered Camilo's words. *If you encounter any ‘legal risks,' use the encrypted line.*

With a flicker of doubt, she dialed the number.

It was answered almost instantly. The voice wasn't Camilo's. It was crisp, calm, and professional.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jackson. This is Champ Leonard, Mr. Meyer's executive assistant. How can I help you?"

Serena was momentarily taken aback. Camilo had introduced himself as a senior risk advisor, but a risk advisor with an executive assistant like Champ? The level of organization, resources, and authority behind him didn't match the simple title on his business card.

"My father," she said, keeping her voice steady. "He's causing a scene downstairs."

Champ's tone didn't change. "Understood. It will be resolved in five minutes. Please remain in the apartment and ensure your own safety."

The line went dead. Serena frowned slightly and glanced at the street below. The traffic was barely moving, with cars backed up for several blocks. Five minutes? She wasn't sure how that was possible.

Less than three minutes later, a black SUV pulled up to the building's entrance. A powerfully built man with a buzz cut stepped out. Champ Leonard, Camilo's personal assistant and the man responsible for handling his private affairs.

He walked directly toward the still-raging Ace. The security guards saw him and immediately stepped back, relieved.

Ace saw Champ approaching and assumed he was Serena's hired help. "Who the hell are you?" he shouted. "Tell her to get her ass down here!"

Champ didn't speak. He took a tablet from his pocket, tapped the screen, and held it up for Ace to see.

From her vantage point, Serena couldn't see the screen. But she saw the color drain from her father's face. He went from beet-red to corpse-white in a second.

Ace started to tremble. He pointed a shaking finger at Champ, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out.

Champ lowered the tablet. His voice was cold as ice. "Mr. Jackson, the tax records for your company for the past three years contain some… interesting figures. What do you think would happen if this file landed on a desk at the IRS?"

Ace's legs buckled. He nearly collapsed onto the pristine sidewalk.

"Now," Champ continued, his voice dropping lower, "leave. Immediately. And do not appear within a hundred yards of this building ever again. Or there will be consequences."

Ace scrambled away, practically falling over himself to escape, as if a ghost were chasing him.

Champ watched him go with a dispassionate expression, gave a curt nod to the security guards, and returned to the SUV. The vehicle pulled away and vanished into traffic.

The entire incident was over in less than five minutes.

Serena stood at the window, staring at the now-peaceful scene below. Her heart was still pounding.

Five minutes ago, her father had been causing chaos in the lobby. Now, everything had been handled without leaving a trace.

Serena couldn't ignore the question forming in her mind. A senior risk advisor shouldn't have this level of resources, nor an assistant like Champ who could appear and solve problems so efficiently.

So this was what he meant by "the highest level of legal and security support?

For the first time, Serena realized that her contract husband was far more powerful - and far more mysterious - than she had expected.