Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 116

S.S. Capital occupied an entire corporate campus in the heart of Northpine’s most prosperous district. Atop the main building, the massive company logo glittered in the sun, a symbol of immense power.

In the CEO’s office, an assistant named Kim was presenting documents for George to sign. On the man’s well-defined wrist rested an exquisite gold bracelet styled to resemble bamboo, its elegance amplified by his own refined aura.

“By the way,” George said, “have any discreet, rare pieces of jewelry come up at the Northpine auctions recently?”

Common jewelry was everywhere, the kind even Theobald could give to Marguerite. George wanted something different.

Kim shook his head. “I’ve been keeping an eye out, but nothing fitting your criteria has appeared lately. Most pieces are too flashy for everyday wear.” The boss’s request was unusual: the jewelry had to be suitable for daily life, preferably for a student. But auction items were typically for the wealthy, most of whom craved ostentatious displays of fortune.

George paused his signing, a shadow crossing his features behind his silver-rimmed glasses. After a moment, he said, “I’ll send you a photo in a bit. Find me an exact replica. It has to be identical.”

Kim, though curious, knew better than to ask questions. “Understood, sir.”

After signing the last document, the man in the white suit leaned back and loosened his tie with one hand.

Kim glanced over instinctively and blinked. “Mr. Spencer, did you forget to change your tie today?” The tie had a distinctive pattern; they had bought it on a business trip abroad. His boss never wore the same tie two days in a row.

A soft smile graced the elegant man’s lips as his fingers brushed over the fabric. “I didn’t forget.”

After Kim left, George’s eyes, behind his glasses, were as deep and still as an ancient well. He picked up his phone, first sending the photo to Kim, then another message.

[Spare no expense. I want a full investigation into Aaron’s kidnapping. I want to see the trafficker.]

The reply was swift: [Understood.]

Just as he was about to put his phone down, a contact request came through on his private social account. The attached note read: Mr. Spencer, this is Theobald, Marguerite’s guardian.

The handsome, refined man frowned slightly. Theobald? He had always avoided direct contact with him.