The Billionaire’s Obsession with Green Ariza

The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across Green's office, it casted long shadows over the marble desk and the lush monstera plant near the window. The skyline glowed behind her, glass towers reflecting the last burn of daylight.

Green sat poised in an emerald silk blouse tucked into high-waisted cream trousers, her diamond necklace caught glints of light whenever she moved. Her hair was swept into a sleek bun, her posture effortless but commanding. She tapped her fingers lightly on the arm of her designer chair, phone on speaker beside her laptop, sketches, and pitch decks fanned around.

Joseph's voice poured through the phone—deep, low, intimate.

"You sound tense," she said, lips curving as she adjusted the cuff of her gold watch. "Where are you now?"

"Just parked," came his voice. A car door shut in the background. "Meeting someone who thinks they're more important than they are."

Green smirked, leaning back as her heels clicked gently against the polished floor. "Remind them who you are."

Joseph paused on the other end, likely eyeing the entrance of wherever he was headed. "I plan to. But before I go in—say something sweet."

Her expression softened as she glanced at the city stretched before her. "You're the storm I prayed for… and the calm I didn't know I needed."

Joseph let out a breath, quieter now. "Damn. Now I don't want to hang up."

"Then don't."

He chuckled. "I'll be home before sunset. Leave the balcony door open."

She smiled, cheeks flushed. "Always."

Then the line clicked off, but the smile stayed as she returned to her work—still glowing from the sound of his voice.

Joseph entered the lounge at the top of the Astra Grand Hotel—glass walls, skyline view, cold silence. The lawyer, Zack was already seated. Joseph adjusted his charcoal suit jacket, his steps slow and deliberate. He didn't smile.

Zack stood nervously, extending his hand. "Mr. Joseph. Again, I'm truly sorry for your loss. Your father… he was like family—"

Joseph cut him off with a glance. He didn't take the handshake. "You'll forgive me if I don't shake hands with someone who sold secrets behind them."

Zack flinched like he'd been slapped. "Excuse me?"

Joseph sat. "You heard me."

Zack swallowed, trying to maintain composure. "Mr. Joseph, I assure you, I only did what was in the best interest of—"

"In whose best interest?" Joseph leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Josiah's? Yours? Or the offshore account you tried to hide under your cousin's name?"

The air turned to ice.

Zack's lips parted, but no words came. He adjusted his tie, sweat now beading at his brow.

"You're officially dismissed," Joseph said, rising. "As of now, you no longer represent any legal or estate matters pertaining to Leon Corp."

"But—"

"Your NDAs remain binding. Breach them, and I'll bury you so deep the law won't find you."

Zack blinked rapidly, caught between fear and humiliation. Joseph fastened the button on his jacket and walked away without looking back.

Zack sat frozen in his chair for a long time before shakily reaching for his phone. He called Josiah.

"He knows," Zack whispered the moment the line connected. "Everything."

A long pause. Then Josiah's cold voice replied, "Then he's further along than we thought."

Zack looked out the window at the falling sun, throat dry. "What do we do now?"

Josiah was quiet again, but when he spoke, his voice was darker.

"We remind him who he's really fighting."

—-

Josiah looked up at the glass-and-steel monument before him— the sky scraper mirrored surface cutting into the overcast sky. Both hands slid into his pockets as he stepped into the lobby.

He moved with purpose, each step measured. The guards at the security post stiffened at first—then relaxed once they recognized him. They didn't question him. They knew who he worked with. Who he represented now.

The elevator dinged softly, and Josiah stepped in alone. Floor thirty-five.

When the doors opened, the silence was instant.

He walked down the gleaming corridor and turned left into the large corner room. There, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling window, sat Fredrick—what remained of him. His wheelchair faced the sprawling skyline, but his reflection in the glass was haunted, pale, and still.

Fredrick didn't look at him.

"What do you want?" His voice was dry, hollow from too many sleepless nights and unspoken screams.

Josiah stepped further into the room, the soles of his shoes echoing softly against the polished floor. "What we both want," he said simply, his gaze steady. "Justice."

Fredrick let out a bitter breath, more like a broken laugh. "You call this justice?" His fingers twitched slightly on the wheelchair's armrest. "Six bullets. Both legs. Joseph made sure I'd never walk again…"

Josiah stood a few feet away, silent, letting the weight of the words hang.

Fredrick finally turned his head. His eyes were bloodshot but burning. "I tried everything. Contacts. Shell companies. Legal games. Blackmail. Nothing worked. He's always one step ahead. Always ten feet taller."

He continued with pain and hatred, "That bastard has been burning my empire one flame at a time," he spat. "Deals vanish. Investors pull out. Partners turn ghost. And I know who's behind it but I can't touch him. Not from here. Not with this." He tapped the wheel of his chair. 

"You want to hit him back," Josiah said.

Fredrick's lip twitched. "I want to bury him."

There was a pause.

"We should go the hard way," Josiah muttered. "And I think… we both know what that means." He adjusted his cufflinks as if reminding himself he still had power in other ways.

Fredrick didn't respond. He simply looked at him. He blinked slowly. And then, in a voice so quiet it almost disappeared, he said,

"Green."

The name lingered.

Josiah's smirk curved faintly—like something inevitable had just snapped into place. He nodded, his expression darkening. "She's his center. Touch that, and he cracks."

Fredrick said nothing. He simply turned to the window, staring down at the city like a chessboard beneath them.

They didn't need to say the plan out loud.

Somewhere miles away, Green stood by the balcony of Joseph's penthouse, a wine glass in hand, unaware that two men she barely remembered had just decided she was the key to tearing him apart.

And they were already moving.