The sun dipped low over the Nakamura estate, casting long shadows across the manicured gardens. Inside the estate's grand study, Hiroshi Nakamura sat at his desk, his fingers drumming restlessly on the polished wood. Papers lay scattered across the surface—business reports, correspondence, news clippings—but Hiroshi's eyes were fixed on a single letter that lay open before him.It was from Sayuri.Her words were filled with regret and desperation, but as Hiroshi read them, he felt no sympathy, no pang of guilt. Instead, he felt only a cold, simmering anger—a deep resentment at how far he had fallen, how much he had lost because of one reckless mistake.Aiko had moved on, that much was clear. She had thrown herself into her hospital project, garnering praise and admiration from those who mattered. Meanwhile, Hiroshi had been left to rot in the countryside, his reputation in tatters, his future uncertain.And for what? A moment of weakness, a fleeting thrill with Sayuri? The more Hiroshi thought about it, the more his anger grew—not at himself, but at the situation, at Aiko, and at the people who had turned their backs on him the moment his fall from grace became public.He wanted it all back. The respect, the influence, the power. And if he couldn't have Aiko's forgiveness, then he would take something far more valuable—he would take her success.A knock on the door pulled Hiroshi from his thoughts. His father, Haruto Nakamura, entered the room, his expression as stern as ever. The air between them had been tense since the scandal broke, but there was something different in his father's demeanor today—a kind of cold calculation that Hiroshi hadn't seen before."Hiroshi," Haruto began, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk about your future."Hiroshi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "My future? What future? My name is ruined, and I've lost everything that mattered."Haruto's eyes narrowed. "That's precisely why we need to act now. You've spent weeks wallowing in self-pity, but that won't change anything. If you want to regain your standing, you need to start thinking strategically."Hiroshi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Strategically? What do you have in mind?"His father took a seat across from him, his gaze sharp and focused. "Aiko's hospital project is gaining momentum, and it's putting her back in the public's good graces. If you let her succeed, she'll continue to rise, and you'll be left behind. But if you can undermine her efforts, if you can show that she's not as capable as everyone thinks..."Hiroshi felt a spark of interest. "You want me to sabotage her?""Not directly," Haruto said, his tone measured. "You need to be subtle. Use your connections, spread doubts, create obstacles. Make it difficult for her to succeed, and when she falters, you'll be there to pick up the pieces."Hiroshi considered his father's words. The idea of sabotaging Aiko's project appealed to him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't just about revenge—it was about reclaiming what he had lost, about showing everyone that he wasn't finished yet."And Sayuri?" Hiroshi asked, glancing at the letter on his desk. "What about her?"Haruto's expression darkened slightly. "Sayuri is a liability, but she could also be an asset if used correctly. If she's willing to help you, then use her. But be careful—she's unpredictable."Hiroshi nodded slowly, a plan beginning to take shape in his mind. Sayuri wanted to run away, but perhaps she could be persuaded to stay, to help him in his efforts. Together, they could find a way to turn the tide in their favor."I'll talk to her," Hiroshi said, his voice cold. "See if she's willing to help."Haruto stood, his expression approving. "Good. It's time you started thinking like a Nakamura again. We don't give up, and we don't let others take what's ours."As his father left the room, Hiroshi felt a sense of purpose that had been absent for weeks. He wasn't going to let Aiko win. He wasn't going to let her walk away unscathed while he was left to pick up the pieces.No, he would find a way to take back what he had lost—even if it meant turning against the woman he had once loved.