My Milf System

Chapter 392 - 392: 392. The Title

Saturday, 9:33 AM(Third-Person Pov)

Akira sat squarely in his executive chair, completely absorbed in the surveillance clip Asher had hand-delivered earlier that morning.

Visually, Akira was the furthest thing from an imposing mob boss. Standing a mere 5'5", he was bald-headed and carried a distinctly soft, thickset build. The luxury of his executive life had settled squarely around his waistline, giving him a noticeable, rounded belly that stretched the fabric of his custom-tailored dress shirts.

On his tablet, he watched the playback of Karen accepting the briefcase containing a million dollars from Tom.

Akira let out a sharp, mocking scoff. "Tsk... pathetic. Attempting to buy your freedom from a lion's jaws? What an absolute waste of paper."

He tapped the spacebar to pause the frame right on Karen's manic face. He raised a hand, slowly scratching at the sparse, uneven patches of stubble sprinkled across his slightly chubby chin. A dark glint entered his eyes.

"But then again... that desperate panic is exactly what makes her such a flawless asset to this firm. It keeps the bitch firmly pinned under my heel. While she bleeds herself dry trying to pay for the hopeless, her entire reality is going to disintegrate into something far worse than hell itself. After all, it's the least she deserves for betraying my brother."

Before his train of thought could progress any further, a soft polite knock rattled the office door. Without waiting for a formal invitation, Secretary Kim stepped inside, balancing a silver breakfast tray in her hands.

"Good morning, boss," she chimed energetically, using her hip to casually swing the door shut behind her. "I brought you your morning fuel!"

Her vibrant radiance was met with an immediate wall of silence. Akira's brow knit into a hard, irritated line. He reached up, roughly loosening the knot of his red necktie before glancing at the antique clock ticking against the far wall. "You're exceptionally early."

"Early? Oh, my. I didn't even notice," Kim murmured, her voice instantly dropping into a breathy, performative drawl. "I honestly thought it was well past ten o'clock."

Sauntering deep into his personal space, she set the tray down onto the mahogany desk. Instead of standing back up, she deliberately bent forward, resting her hands flat against the table and leaning directly into Akira's face.

The angle was entirely calculated. Her premium white blouse was intentionally unbuttoned far past corporate decency, exposing a staggering amount of cleavage.

The elegant black lace perimeter of her bra barely contained the heavy, luscious slope of her breasts, putting the entirety of their full, rounded geometry on display right before his eyes.

"But oh, well..." Kim purred, reaching out with a manicured finger to lightly trace the edge of his chin, forcing him to look directly up at her. She brought her face closer, her glossy lips parting slightly. "That simply means we have a bit of unexpected downtime to burn through, doesn't it?"

Before her lips could bridge the gap, Akira's hand snapped upward. He brutally slapped her wrist away, his face entirely frozen in a look of profound annoyance. Kim stumbled back half a step, her seductive smirk instantly dissolving into a hard pout.

"I have operational matters to attend to. Go peddle that garbage somewhere else," he barked, his voice devoid of a single shred of human emotion.

Kim let out a frustrated whine, crossing her arms over her chest. "But I miss you... it's been weeks, boss. A girl starts developing certain... unmanageable cravings."

"Then go purchase a dildo or something," Akira dismissed coldly, already dragging his gaze back down to his tablet. He swiped Karen's video file away, pulling up a highly encrypted series of internal company logistics logs instead.

Secretary Kim's heart sank, a bitter sting of rejection twisting in her gut. Shifting her strategy from seduction to professional sabotage, her posture straightened. "Fine. If you're going to be like that... I've been analyzing the warehouse ledgers this morning. We're facing another massive, unexplained deficit of high-tier inventory following yesterday's overseas shipment. Managing Director Karen is failing spectacularly at maintaining product security. She messes up the inventory metrics every single week, and she always covers the financial loss out of her own pocket."

She leaned down again, her voice dropping into a venomous whisper. "Who knows... maybe she's actually siphoning the P-Series serums herself, selling them on the black market at a premium, and then bringing the baseline capital back here to pocket the interest."

Akira resisted the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. He knew infinitely more about the underworld mechanics than this woman could ever comprehend. He was fully aware of the secret, cutthroat schemes, the petty corporate politics, and the violent rivalries brewing between his executives. But he had absolutely zero intention of intervening. As long as Sad Mat's baseline operations remained incredibly lucrative, keeping his employees hyper-focused on destroying one another ensured they were far too busy to ever look up and challenge his authority. Their mutual paranoia was the very engine of his prosperity.

"Duly noted... I'll have a formal word with her," he replied mechanically, not looking up from his screen.

Kim's jaw clenched. She had wanted Karen's title of Managing Director for over a year now, sacrificing her dignity and allowing this chubby, cold-blooded man to utilize her body as a personal entertainment tool whenever his urges struck.

Yet, despite all her submissive obedience, she was still structurally subordinate to Karen.

What her shallow mind failed to grasp was that Karen's executive title didn't come with prestige, it came with devastating liabilities, and a psychological burden that was actively tearing her apart.

Sighing in defeat, Kim began refastening the top buttons of her blouse, restoring her professional facade as she turned toward the exit. "Enjoy your tea, sir."

Just as her hand wrapped around the brass doorknob, Akira spoke, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"The new caretaker I assigned to the apartment complex. What's your assessment of him?"

'This man truly is a parasite. He won't rest until every single person in his orbit has a leash wrapped around their throat,' Kim thought bitterly, keeping her back turned so he couldn't read the sudden panic on her face.

"The new guard? Oh, him..."

An intrusive memory flashed through her mind—the terrifying image of Asher cornering her in his room, and telling her about his knowledge of her secret affair with Akira, and threatening to expose everything to the boss's wife unless she acted as his personal informant. It was blindingly obvious that the new caretaker was a dangerous anomaly.

However, if she confessed the truth to Akira, she would have to admit her own vulnerability.

"He's just a standard, simple-minded loser," she lied smoothly, turning around to face the desk with a perfectly fabricated smile. "He performs his basic maintenance tasks well enough. There's absolutely nothing... noteworthy about his profile."

"Is that so?" Akira asked slowly, his small, dark eyes narrowing as he scanned her from head to toe, as if his intuition was telling him she was hiding something.

A lump of saliva lodged itself in Kim's throat, but she forced herself to swallow it down, nodding firmly. "Yes, sir. Nothing at all."

Akira reached onto the silver tray, tearing off a piece of fresh pastry and popping it into his mouth. After chewing for several seconds, his gaze locked back onto her eyes. "Very well. Inform me the second you notice anything... noteworthy about his behavior."

"Right away, sir," she murmured.

The moment the office door clicked shut behind her, Secretary Kim rolled her eyes violently, a deep hiss of frustration escaping her lips. 'Did I seriously just let myself get drafted into being his personal watchdog? How the hell do I let these men manipulate me so effortlessly? It's completely infuriating!'

Stepping into the executive elevator, she watched the digital floor numbers count down, forcing her mind back onto the brutal reality of her day-to-day corporate schedule.

To be continued...