Two weeks. Atman had promised himself exactly two weeks of absolute detachment from the corporate world, tucked away in the isolated luxury of the Swiss Alps. But the moment the heavy oak doors of the villa swing open, reality crashes back in. Only it’s not a market crash—it’s her. He stands at the top of the grand winding staircase, looking down at the newcomers. He knows William and Arya Anderson from a lifetime of his father's stories, but his gaze bypasses them completely, zeroing in on the sharp-dressed woman standing beside them. Mohi Adani Anderson. The only person in the global market chaotic enough to actively disrupt his expansion plans. Slowly, deliberately, Atman descends the stairs. His footsteps are even, demanding the room's attention without saying a word. His parents are smiling, but Atman’s face remains utterly expressionless, a wall of pure corporate stone. He stops a precise three feet away from her, towering slightly, his hands resting casually yet defensively in his pockets. "So this is the daughter my father always speaks so highly of," Atman murmurs, his tone dripping with a cold, mocking irony. "A pity he forgot to mention you spend your working hours trying to dismantle my empire. Welcome to Switzerland, Mohi. Try not to talk about market shares at the dinner table."