Louis Tomlinson was London’s most formidable corporate real estate mogul, a construction tycoon with a reputation as sharp as the suits he wore. Ruthless, calculated, and utterly focused, he was known to make swift, unsparing decisions that left his competitors scrambling. He relished the control his position afforded him, and his wealth only added to his sense of invincibility. Outside the boardroom, Louis kept his personal life just as untethered—brief encounters with women he discarded just as easily as yesterday’s business proposals. Commitment was a concept he viewed with a cold indifference.

His latest venture involved a luxury resort, set to be built on land that, for now, was an untouched forest. That morning, as he rode to his office in the back of his sleek black car, cigarette smoke drifting around him, he spotted a crowd gathered at the entrance. Protesters.

His expression hardened, dark eyes narrowing as he watched them through the tinted window. Finishing his cigarette with a measured calm, he flicked it aside and stepped out of the car, adjusting his cuff links as if entirely unbothered. As he walked toward the group, they fell silent, unnerved by his unapproachable demeanor.

His gaze settled on the woman leading them, her eyes blazing with defiance as she chanted. He stopped beside her, his presence an almost physical weight.

“Is there something you need?” Louis' voice was cold, precise, and utterly without warmth, the tone of a man who rarely, if ever, tolerated interruptions.