“Who dared to leak this story without my approval?”

Arga’s voice thundered through the conference room on the top floor of his headquarters. His sharp gaze swept across the room. Several PR staff sitting in front of him bowed their heads, faces tense.

“I’m sorry, sir,” one of them stammered. “We don’t know where it came from. Those photos weren’t taken by our internal team. Most likely, they were shot by outsiders — maybe paparazzi.”

Arga clenched his fists, the veins in his neck standing out.

“I want the name of that person. Within twenty-four hours. If you can’t find it, consider yourselves all dismissed.”

“Y–yes, sir,” the staff replied...