Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1648. Legal Storm (Magic Castle Bonus)

The heavy office doors shut behind her with a solid thud.

Sophia stood in the hallway for a moment, breathing.

Not to calm herself—no, that ship had sailed.

But to steady her rage.

Her heart was still thundering, adrenaline spiking like aftershocks beneath her skin.

They thought they had cornered her.

They thought they’d won.

They thought she would fold.

‘Idiots.’

Her heels clicked against the marble as she walked through the polished lobby of Urban Enigma, every step echoing her fury, her pride, and her carefully rehearsed defiance.

But as much as she presented calm on the outside, inside her mind was a furnace.

She was already building her plan.

She had contacts. She had lists. She had backups.

People owed her favors.

Influencers, reporters, PR vultures.

She could still stir this. If she couldn’t break them in court, she’d crush them under public outrage.

‘Victim of corporate corruption. Silenced by the powerful. Betrayed by the very men who used her.’

Her stomach clenched just imagining the headlines.

The interviews.

The sympathy.

The donations.

The media would eat it up. She just needed the right angle, the right push, and of course—

The right attorney to package it.

Sophia pulled out her phone as she stepped onto the street, the glass doors behind her closing like the final scene of a war movie.

The city air was sharp, too bright for her burning mood.

The traffic sounds—honking, engines, voices—all blurred beneath her boiling focus.

Her screen glowed.

Attorney Options:

Rothman & Vale

Keller Defense Group

Mendez Strategic Law

Grace Lin, Specialist Media Law

Marlowe Public Legal

She licked her lips, scrolling. Her fingers trembled slightly—not fear.

Momentum.

She would not roll over.

She’d simply flip the board.

“Rothman’s too stiff…” she whispered to herself, glancing at the first name. “Mendez maybe… but Grace… yeah, she might be my best wildcard…”

Sophia paused for a second, biting the inside of her cheek. She could almost feel the pathway unfolding ahead of her.

Legal storm.

PR storm.

Ruin them socially, drain them financially.

If she couldn’t win the court battle, she’d destroy them by proxy.

She smiled to herself. “I’m not done yet, assholes.”

What Sophia didn’t know—

Was that she wasn’t alone.

Two shadows moved along the edge of the plaza.

Blending with the crowd like whispers.

Watching her. Tracking her.

The first man spoke into his phone, barely above a murmur. His breath fogged slightly in the morning air.

“She’s moving. Beginning phase one.”

A distorted voice crackled back through his earpiece.

“Proceed.”

The second man drifted closer to Sophia, merging with the flow of pedestrians like he belonged there. Neutral face. Neutral pace.

His hands were covered by a black jacket sleeve, but his fingers flexed with a pickpocket’s patience.

Timing was everything.

Sophia was too focused to notice.

Too wrapped up in her calculations.

As she walked toward the corner, her fingers scrolling on her phone, Sophia paused briefly to pull up another contact, her mind still preoccupied. The second man drifted just close enough, his presence subtle. He brushed against her shoulder in a quick, light bump.

“Ah—sorry,” the man muttered, stepping back like any polite pedestrian would, his eyes never even meeting hers.

Sophia barely registered the encounter, her distracted nod almost automatic. “It’s fine.”

But in that second—just as the casual apology echoed in the air—the hand slid smoothly into the open side pocket of her designer handbag. The one Bell had insisted on buying for her, a sleek, understated thing with custom stitching.

The movement was fluid, practiced—gone before she even felt it.

Her phone.

Her card wallet.

Two USB drives.

Her secondary burner phone.

All lifted with precision.

The man drifted on as if nothing had happened, melting seamlessly back into the crowd of suits and skirts.

Across the street, the first man stood, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and steady.

“Package secured.”

“Excellent,” came the distorted voice on the other end. “Initiate clean exit. No contact.”

Sophia, still oblivious to the theft, crossed the street a moment later.

Her heart was calmer now.

Her rage still simmered, but she could almost taste the power returning to her grip.

As long as she had her records, her private chats, her carefully stored evidence, she had leverage.

She didn’t even realize the weight missing from her bag.

Not yet.

Across the street, two black sedans slipped into traffic, vanishing like ghosts. Sophia didn’t pay them any mind.

She entered a quiet coffee shop, the soothing hum of background chatter calming her. Without thinking, she ordered her usual—iced matcha, double sweet.

The barista smiled and told her the price. Sophia reached for her wallet, but when she slid her hand into her bag, something was off. She paused, fingers fumbling through the leather compartments. The wallet wasn’t there.

Her stomach twisted, but she quickly brushed it off. ‘Must’ve misplaced it,’ she told herself.

“Is everything okay?” the barista asked, noticing her hesitation.

“Yeah, just… forgot something in the car,” she said, her voice smooth but her mind racing. She glanced around, hoping no one noticed the shift in her demeanor.

She checked again, more desperately this time. Still nothing. Panic started to claw at her, but she forced a smile, trying to act casual. “I’ll be right back,” she said, backing away.

She checked the compartment for her USB drives next—gone. Then, her burner phone. Empty space.

Her breath caught. The world slowed. Her pulse spiked as panic crept in.

“No… no, no, no—” she muttered under her breath, eyes darting around, but she already knew. Her phone—her entire backup—was gone. She couldn’t even text for help.

Sophia froze, a sinking feeling spreading through her. This was bad. Too bad.

She spun around, frantically checking the ground, looking like a woman who’d just realized the cage was closing around her throat.

Panic clawed up her chest.

“Shit!” she hissed under her breath, eyes wide, scanning the street—but whoever did it was long gone.

Her leverage.

Her insurance.

Her backup plans.

Stolen.

Suddenly, the fire in her chest flipped to cold, icy dread.

This wasn’t a random mugging.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

‘They came for me.’

The realization hit her like a blade to the ribs.

Her hands trembled. Her lips quivered.

For the first time in years, Sophia felt something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel.

Fear.

True, suffocating fear.

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