ANGER and HIM

He walked fast through the corridors of his law firm, his expression cold and furious. His footsteps were sharp, echoing across the polished floor, forcing everyone around him to step aside. His secretary hurried behind him, almost running, struggling to keep up while holding a stack of documents tightly against her chest.

“Where is the document I told you to prepare?” he asked without slowing down.

“Sir… it’s ready. You just need to review and sign it,” she replied, slightly breathless.

He didn’t respond. He simply extended his hand, expecting perfection.

He was always like this.

Everything had to go exactly as he planned. No mistakes. No delays. No excuses. If something went wrong, his temper would rise instantly, and he would become someone his employees feared to face.

To them, he wasn’t just their boss.

He was a storm waiting to happen.

Only two people truly understood him—his younger brother and his grandfather. He was the heir to his grandfather’s powerful business empire, yet he chose a different path.

He didn’t want success handed to him.

He wanted to build it himself.

At the age of twenty-six, he walked away from his career as a prosecutor and started over as a lawyer. It wasn’t easy. He had no strong backing, no financial support from his family, and no shortcuts.

But he had something else.

Relentless determination.

At twenty-three, he had already started investing in the stock market, carefully building his funds with one goal in mind—to establish his own law firm. Slowly, his investments grew, and so did his reputation.

His first big break came through a connection with a minister.

From there, everything changed.

Case by case, he climbed higher.

From handling small disputes to representing powerful figures, he eventually reached a level where he was trusted with cases involving the country’s Prime Minister. His law firm expanded beyond borders, taking international cases and gaining global recognition.

But success came with danger.

He walked a path surrounded by powerful people and hidden enemies—like walking among snakes every single day.

He hated bootlickers.

He had no patience for people who pretended or flattered their way up.

But he respected one thing—

Hard work.

People who were willing to learn, struggle, and grow… he valued them.

Despite his success, his personal life remained simple.

He owned only a single apartment. Every rupee he earned went back into growing his company. His empire wasn’t built on luck or inheritance.

It was built with blood, sweat, and sheer will.

And he never showed weakness.

To anyone.

Marriage? Love? Family?

He had no interest in any of it.

He was known for his poker face, his sharp mind, and his cold, unreadable nature. People called him heartless.

And he never bothered to deny it.

Once, he worked continuously for three and a half days without rest, completely absorbed in a case. His body finally gave up, and he collapsed due to dehydration. He was rushed to the hospital, where doctors strictly ordered him to stay in bed for two days.

He woke up after just five hours.

“How much time did I waste lying here?” he asked his secretary, his voice filled with irritation.

“This hospital smell… I hate it,” he muttered, putting on a mask she handed him.

“Bring my documents. And my laptop.”

“Sir, you need rest—”

“Not ‘but’,” he cut her off sharply. “In my life, only I decide whether I work or rest.”

Left with no choice, she handed him everything.

He finished his paperwork in exactly thirty-five minutes. He had set a timer for forty. Efficiency was everything to him. After completing it, he leaned back slightly and said, “Wake me up in one hour.”

Two hours later, he was already back on his feet.

He wiped his face, brushed his teeth, changed into a fresh suit within minutes, and prepared to leave—all while still connected to an IV. A nurse entered to change it and froze for a second, stunned by how striking he looked.

He glanced at her coldly.

She hurried, finishing her work in one go.

He didn’t even flinch.

“Let’s go,” he said, handing the IV pack to his secretary as he walked out.

His car was already waiting.

He stepped in, calm and focused, as if nothing had happened.

“Let’s go win this trial.”

His name was Zhang Linghe.

Thirty-four years old.

Short-tempered. Sharp-minded. Emotionally distant.

A man who understood success… but knew nothing about life beyond it.

And soon…