Adrian Valmont was lying back on the sofa in his office.
Shoes off.
Jacket hanging over the backrest.
An open box of popcorn resting on his chest, wearing the relaxed expression of someone who had nowhere else to be.
On the wall, a screen occupied almost the entire front of the room.
It did not display financial charts or news reports.
It displayed video.
The camera shook slightly.
Night footage.
The vehicle.
Katherine stepping out.
The interference.
The first strike.
The second.
The rescue.
"Nice execution," Adrian commented, taking a handful of popcorn. "Clean. Almost professional."
To his right, the chief of police of Valenheim did not smile.
To his left, the city's chief prosecutor did not either.
Behind them, an entire team worked in silence: secondary screens, timelines, transcripts, digital seals, numbered folders.
Nobody spoke loudly.
There was no need.
"That angle..." the prosecutor said, pointing at the screen. "Where did it come from?"
"Private security camera," Adrian replied. "The complex had a security contract. The company went bankrupt six months ago. We bought the assets."
He paused.
"Including the recordings."
The police chief glanced at him.
"We bought?"
"My family," Adrian corrected without looking at him. "I only signed the paperwork."
"How did you know she was going to be kidnapped?"
Adrian answered.
"I didn't."
Silence.
"I just would have been a very mediocre writer if it hadn't happened."
Adrian stared at the screen for a few seconds.
Katherine stepping out of the vehicle.
Alone.
Completely unaware of what was coming.
"I wasn't certain."
The prosecutor frowned.
"Then..."
Adrian let out a small laugh, more tired than amused.
"I just thought it would happen."
Nobody understood the answer.
Adrian himself wasn't sure how to explain it.
He had tried to stay away from Katherine Sterling because he knew the pattern.
Protagonist.
Kidnapping.
Rescue.
Hero.
Romance.
A ridiculous chain of events that seemed to repeat itself in every story.
His only intention had been simple.
Do nothing.
Let the protagonist do what he always did.
And continue living his life.
Then the recording appeared.
"The route must appear spontaneous."
Adrian stopped smiling.
"...No excessive violence."
His expression changed slightly.
"The rescue must be clean."
...
What the hell?
He played the audio again.
Then a third time.
After that, he reviewed the financial reports.
The shell companies.
The transfers.
The contracts.
Every piece pointed toward the same man.
Marcos.
Adrian remained silent.
Eventually, he slowly shook his head.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this..."
The prosecutor looked up.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
He took another piece of popcorn.
This time, he did not even feel like eating it.
He had always assumed the Dragon King was an impulsive protagonist.
Violent.
Proud.
He had never imagined he was capable of manufacturing his own rescue.
That...
was new.
A map appeared on another screen.
Routes.
Detours.
Exact timings.
"Here," Adrian continued. "This is where the vehicle changed direction. It wasn't random. It matches a previous call from this number."
The prosecutor looked down at her tablet.
"Marcos' phone."
"Intercepted with a court order," Adrian added, raising an eyebrow. "Everything was legal. Three days before the incident."
The prosecutor looked at him with renewed attention.
"Three days?"
"Yes," Adrian replied. "That was when we stopped assuming... and started listening."
A recording appeared on the screen.
"The route must appear spontaneous. No excessive violence. The rescue must be clean."
Silence filled the room.
Adrian chewed slowly.
"My favorite part," he said, "is that."
Another recording played.
"She must not be injured. That would ruin the narrative."
The police chief crossed his arms.
"Narrative," he repeated. "He likes that word."
"Marcos loves it," Adrian corrected. "He thinks he's inside a story. Functional hero. Convenient villains. Perfect rescue. Romance afterward."
He shrugged.
"The usual."
The prosecutor swiped across the screen.
Messages.
Payments.
Transfers.
"The men involved in the kidnapping," she said. "They weren't amateurs. Ex-military. Hired through a shell company."
"Indirectly owned by Marcos," Adrian added. "Through three layers. Not bad."
He took another piece of popcorn.
"But not enough."
"The classic mistake."
"Which is?" the police chief asked.
Adrian smiled slightly.
"Believing power only exists to hit harder."
The prosecutor closed the tablet.
"We have conspiracy, aggravated kidnapping, obstruction of justice, evidence manipulation, the use of armed mercenaries on national territory..."
"And fraud," Adrian added. "A lot of fraud. Don't forget the fraud. There's always fraud."
A heavier silence settled over the room.
"Why didn't you intervene sooner?" the police chief finally asked. "You could have stopped the kidnapping."
Adrian looked at the screen.
Katherine safe.
Marcos efficient.
Everything exactly where it was supposed to be.
"Because we needed the complete story," he said. "No gaps. No assumptions. No improvised heroes."
He turned slightly.
"And because if you're going to destroy a myth, you don't interrupt it."
A pause.
"You let it play out."
The prosecutor studied him for a long moment.
"You're not physically strong," she said. "You don't fight. You don't command armed men."
"No," Adrian admitted. "I never needed to."
He shrugged comfortably.
"I have money. Influence. Time. And very boring lawyers."
He looked back at the screen, where Marcos helped Katherine into the vehicle, focused and serious, convinced he had played his role perfectly.
"Villains are usually foolish," Adrian continued thoughtfully. "They don't use everything they have. They become obsessed with a single card."
He smiled.
"That doesn't apply to me."
He turned off the screen.
The office fell silent.
"Proceed," he said, finally standing. "Arrest him whenever you consider appropriate. Tomorrow would be preferable. I'm still busy today."
He picked up the empty popcorn box and placed it on the desk.
"Ah," he added, as if remembering something insignificant. "Make sure the press uses the correct wording."
The prosecutor looked up.
"Which one?"
Adrian adjusted his shirt.
"Not 'fallen hero.'"
He smiled politely.
"Architect of his own rescue."
And he left the office.
The sky had given the hero his chance.
The problem was simple:
The villain had chosen to watch.
When they arrived at the house, Monica was the one who came out to greet them.
Her first reaction was not panic.
It was confusion.
Adrian Valmont was not alone.
Behind him walked several police officers. Visible identification. Standard-issue weapons.
Among them were two faces Monica immediately recognized: the city's chief prosecutor and one of her assistants.
"Mr. Valmont..." she said, swallowing nervously. "Is something wrong?"
Adrian removed his coat calmly, as if he were returning from a business meeting.
"Where is Katherine?" he asked.
No urgency.
No concern.
Only observation.
Monica hesitated.
"She's in the main salon," she answered. "With... with Mrs. Élise. And Mr. Marcos."
Adrian nodded.
"Take us there."
Monica walked ahead, trying to organize the situation.
Fast.
Precise.
Everything seemed to follow a protocol she did not fully understand.
When they entered the salon, the scene looked like it belonged to another story.
Katherine stood there, pale but upright.
However, when she saw the police, her first reaction was not fear.
It was confusion.
Why were there so many officers?
Why were Élise and Marcos here?
Something did not fit.
Her mind tried to reconstruct the scene the same way it had before, but every piece now seemed out of place.
Élise Valmont stood beside her, calm, almost maternal.
Further back was Marcos.
Straight posture.
Raised chest.
A barely contained smile.
The kind of smile belonging to someone who believed the world recognized his heroism.
Then Katherine saw Adrian.
He said nothing.
He did not react.
He did not raise his voice.
Only a slight movement of his head.
That was enough.
The officers immediately spread out.
Mechanical precision.
Weapons raised.
All aimed at Marcos.
The smile disappeared.
"What...?" he managed to say.
Katherine stepped forward instinctively.
"Wait!" she exclaimed. "He saved me. You can't..."
Her voice trembled.
The certainty she had held for days began to collapse.
Had she seen it wrong?
Had she misunderstood everything?
"Miss Sterling," the prosecutor interrupted firmly. "Please step aside."
Adrian looked at her.
No accusation.
No emotion.
Only exhaustion.
"No," he said.
A pause.
"He didn't."
Marcos stepped back, confused.
"Are you kidding me?" he spat. "A threat? Some dirty move because I got there first?"
Silence.
The prosecutor opened a folder.
"Marcos R.," she said. "You are under arrest for conspiracy, aggravated kidnapping, the use of armed mercenaries, and manipulation of a crime scene. Additional financial charges pending confirmation."
Marcos laughed briefly.
Nervously.
"This is ridiculous. I stopped them."
"You hired them," the prosecutor replied without emotion.
She raised a tablet.
Audio.
Video.
Messages.
Transfers.
Everything was there.
Everything organized.
Everything undeniable.
The room went silent.
Katherine felt the floor shift beneath her.
"It can't be..." she whispered. "I saw it. He rescued me."
The officers moved forward and placed handcuffs on Marcos.
"Katherine!" Marcos shouted. "Tell them something! I did this for you!"
She could not move.
Every piece of evidence shown by the prosecutor stripped away another layer of the story she had built.
Reality rewrote itself before her eyes.
With every image, every message, every transfer, the hero she had admired faded a little more.
The mocking smile disappeared.
The proud posture disappeared.
Marcos looked at Adrian with pure hatred.
"You did nothing," he spat.
Adrian only tilted his head.
Nothing more.
The footsteps faded down the hallway.
Katherine remained standing, trembling, with Élise beside her.
"Poor boy," Élise murmured, almost with pity. "He believed the world always rewards those who act like heroes."
The police chief stepped closer, allowing the tension in the room to breathe for a moment.
"Katherine," he said firmly. "I know this is difficult to understand. But you need to let us do our job."
"What... what happened?" she whispered.
"The rescue was real," he explained. "The threat was real too. But everything was under control. He... simply believed he was saving you."
"Marcos?" she whispered, disbelief in her voice.
"What he did does not change the evidence. He does not get to decide who is the hero and who is not."
A pause.
"We do."
Adrian remained behind them.
Still.
Watching.
As always.
Katherine took a deep breath.
Everything fit together, even if her heart refused to accept it.
The man she had believed was her savior had just fallen.
And the man who seemed to have done nothing had been the one moving all the pieces.