Chapter 236:

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Haven Kramer POV

The herbs and preliminary equipment Lyle had procured were piling up in the storeroom, but the estate lacked a suitable space for mass production that met any real safety standards.

I rolled up the parchment covered in chemical formulas and business models—my plans for the bioactive peptide eye drops I’d codenamed “Morning Star”—and locked it in the secret compartment of my desk.

My project needed a real, physical home: a place that could serve as both a laboratory and a small factory.

I couldn’t use Demetri’s power or the Contreras family name. This time, I had to rely entirely on myself. If the Contreras name were linked to this lab, the news would reach the palace before the ink dried.

I walked through the enormous closet, ignoring the lavish silk and velvet gowns, and finally chose the plainest gray linen dress and a deep-hooded cloak—the kind I might have worn as an intern in my past life.

I twisted my hair into a simple bun, pulled the hood low to shadow my face, and wore no jewelry.

The woman in the mirror looked ordinary, plain, almost poor.

Perfect.

I slipped out of the estate through a side door, walked for a long time, and found a brokerage named Golden Key Realty on the most prosperous commercial street in the city center.

I pushed open the door. A mix of expensive perfume and paper ink hit me. The hall was bustling with brokers in tailored suits, their faces plastered with professional smiles.

𝘓𝖺𝘁е𝘴𝘵 с𝘩а𝗉𝗍еr𝗌 𝗈𝗻 𝘨а𝗅𝗇𝗈𝘷𝗲𝘭s.𝗰o𝘮

A man who looked like a senior broker noticed me. His hair was slicked back, and a slight paunch strained against his waistcoat. He scanned me from head to toe, his initial enthusiasm cooling rapidly when his eyes landed on my plain linen dress and sturdy, unadorned boots.

He sauntered over, skipping any introduction.

“Miss, looking to buy something? Our starting prices are quite high.”

I calmly replied, “I need a property with an independent water and mana-conduit system, preferably away from residential areas, at least three hundred square meters.”

My professional requirements made him pause, but he clearly didn’t believe I could afford it. He gave a slight, contemptuous curl of his lip, his expression screaming, don’t waste my time.

He turned and shouted to a young man buried in paperwork in a corner of the office. “Sonny! Come take a client!”

The young man named Sonny looked up. He was young, with a messy mop of blond hair, a few freckles, and clear but unconfident eyes. He looked surprised and awkward when the senior broker pointed at me.

The senior broker, Rick Snyder, clapped Sonny on the shoulder and whispered in a voice only the three of us could hear, “Show this ‘big client’ around. Let her see what’s what. Just don’t let her get in the way here.” His words dripped with mockery.

Sonny’s face instantly flushed red. He glanced at me, looking like he wanted to apologize but didn’t dare.

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