For one impossible second, I forgot how to breathe.
Damian’s smile vanished.
Victoria’s champagne flute stopped halfway to her lips.
And the laughter around us died so quickly that I could hear droplets of champagne hitting the marble floor beneath my shoes.
I turned.
The man standing behind me was someone I recognized immediately.
Everyone in New York recognized him.
Adrian Vale.
Thirty-four years old.
Founder and CEO of Vale Dominion.
Hotels.
Shipping.
Technology.
Private equity.
Commercial real estate.
Half the skyline seemed to contain something he owned, financed, or could probably purchase before breakfast.
Business magazines called him brilliant.
Financial analysts called him ruthless.
His competitors used less flattering words.
There were rumors about hostile takeovers conducted with surgical cruelty, corporations dismantled because an executive had crossed him, and billionaires who had entered negotiations with Adrian Vale expecting partnership and emerged three months later without companies.
He wasn’t merely rich.
Rich men attended rooms like this hoping to meet him.
And right now, the most intimidating man in Manhattan was standing close enough that I could feel the warmth of his hand settle lightly against the small of my back.
My brain stopped functioning.
Fiancée?
I stared at him.
He didn’t look at me.
His eyes remained fixed on Damian.
“Mr.
Vale,” Damian said.
His voice sounded different.
Smaller.
Adrian wore a black tuxedo with no unnecessary embellishment, no flashy watch, no visible attempt to demonstrate wealth.
He didn’t need one.
Power followed him more effectively than any logo could.
His expression was calm.
That somehow made him more frightening.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Adrian said.
Damian swallowed.
“Damian Cross.
Senior acquisitions director at Halberd Capital.”
“I know who you are.”
Something flickered across Damian’s face.
Adrian finally looked at the champagne soaking my dress.
Then he looked back at Damian.
“And apparently,” he said quietly, “you don’t know who she is.”
I should have corrected him.
I should have stepped away and said there had been some misunderstanding.
Instead, my traitorous body remained frozen beneath Adrian Vale’s hand.
Victoria recovered first.
“I think there’s some confusion.”
Her laugh sounded brittle.
“Damian used to date her.”
Adrian’s eyes shifted toward her.
“And?”
Victoria blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked what relevance that has.”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Around us, dozens of guests had stopped pretending not to listen.
Phones were appearing discreetly beneath tables.
Somewhere nearby, one of Bellmere’s senior coordinators looked as though she might suffer cardiac arrest.
Damian forced out a laugh.
“Look, whatever Ava told you—”
Adrian interrupted him.
“Ava told me nothing about you.”
My pulse stumbled.
He knew my name.
Of course he knew my name.
I worked tonight’s event.
Maybe he’d seen the staff roster.
Maybe—
Adrian’s fingers pressed slightly against my back.
“Why would she?”
Damian’s face tightened.
“We were together four years.”
“And she survived it.”
Someone nearby coughed suspiciously into a napkin.
Damian flushed.
“You don’t understand the situation.”
“No,” Adrian replied.
“I understand it perfectly.”
He reached for a clean linen napkin from the nearest table, then turned toward me.
The transformation in his expression was so subtle I almost imagined it.
The coldness disappeared.
Not completely.
But enough.
“May I?”
He gestured toward the champagne on my shoulder.
I nodded because apparently I had lost all ability to form words.
He carefully dabbed the liquid from my skin.
The ballroom watched in absolute silence.
Damian looked like someone was feeding him broken glass.
Adrian lowered the napkin.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
My voice came out embarrassingly soft.
His gaze held mine.
“Good.”
Then he removed his tuxedo jacket.
Before I understood his intention, he draped it over my shoulders.
It smelled faintly of cedar and something darker.
“Adrian,” I whispered.
His eyebrow lifted.
It was the first indication that he had heard the panic in my voice.
I leaned closer.
“What are you doing?”
His answer came quietly enough that only I could hear.
“Saving an orchid.”
I stared at him.
He glanced toward the arrangement I had been fighting with twenty minutes earlier.
My mouth fell open.
“You saw that?”
“I’ve been watching you argue with flowers for the past fifteen minutes.”
Despite everything happening, a laugh almost escaped me.
Almost.
Then Adrian turned back toward Damian.
The warmth vanished from his face.
“Apologize.”
Damian’s jaw clenched.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
Adrian smiled.
It wasn’t pleasant.
“You poured a drink over my fiancée.
I assure you, Cross, that makes it remarkably relevant to me.”
Again.
Fiancée.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Damian looked between us.
“I don’t believe you.”
That made two of us.
Adrian’s hand returned to my waist.
“You’re welcome to continue doubting me.”
He tilted his head.
“But considering Halberd Capital currently needs approval from one of my subsidiaries to refinance the Beaumont acquisition, I would recommend choosing your next sentence carefully.”
The color drained from Damian’s face.
I knew nothing about the Beaumont acquisition.
Damian clearly did.
Victoria whispered, “Damian?”
He ignored her.
For the first time since approaching me, he looked genuinely afraid.
“You wouldn’t interfere with a business deal over something personal.”
“No,” Adrian said.
Then his eyes went cold.
“I would interfere because I dislike men who mistake cruelty for status.”
Damian’s throat moved.
Adrian waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Finally Damian looked at me.
“Sorry.”
Adrian said nothing.
Damian’s eyes hardened.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“To whom?”
Damian looked ready to explode.
“To Ava.”
My chest tightened.
Six months ago, I would have given anything to hear Damian apologize.
For leaving me.
For using my money.
For letting me believe I had been inadequate.
For replacing me and making me feel disposable.
Now, standing beneath Adrian Vale’s jacket, I felt almost nothing.
And somehow that hurt even more.
“You should go,” I said.
Damian stared at me.
His embarrassment immediately transformed into anger.
“You really think this means something?”
He laughed bitterly.
“You think a man like Adrian Vale actually wants you?”
There it was.
The blade Damian had spent years sharpening.
He knew exactly where to push it.
My insecurities.
My background.
My cheap shoes.
My degree I never finished because rent mattered more.
The fear that people like Victoria belonged in glittering ballrooms while I belonged behind service doors.
He leaned toward me.
“You’re entertainment to him, Ava.”
Victoria smiled faintly.
Damian continued.
“You always confuse being useful with being loved.”
That one landed.
Because once, years ago, I had told him that fear.
I had been sixteen when my mother disappeared from my life, leaving me with my grandmother and a note full of apologies that explained nothing.
Since then, I had made myself indispensable to people.
Useful people didn’t get abandoned.
At least that was what I had believed.
Damian knew.
And he used it anyway.
My vision blurred.
Then Adrian moved.
He stepped between us.
“Leave.”
Damian’s mouth twisted.
“Ask her how much money she gave me.”
My stomach dropped.
“Damian.”
He smiled at me.
“And ask her whether she ever got it back.”
Victoria frowned.
“What money?”
Damian glanced at her.
Too late.
For the first time, uncertainty entered Victoria’s expression.
Adrian looked at me.
“How much?”
I wished the floor would open.
“Adrian, please.”
“How much did he take?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
Damian laughed.
“Oh, come on, Ava.
Tell him.”
I wanted to disappear.
But something about Adrian’s face stopped me.
There was no mockery.
No pity.
Only patience.
I swallowed.
“About sixty-three thousand dollars.”
Victoria’s head snapped toward Damian.
“What?”
The whispers around us intensified.
Damian’s face turned crimson.
“That’s ridiculous.
We were together.
Couples share expenses.”
“I paid your tuition,” I said.
He went still.
I hadn’t planned to say anything else.
Then six months of humiliation rose inside me all at once.
“I paid rent for almost three years.”
“Ava—”
“I covered your textbooks.”
His jaw tightened.
“Your licensing courses.”
“Stop.”
“Your interview clothes.”
“Ava.”
“Your hospital bill when you broke your wrist.”
People were openly staring now.
I couldn’t stop.
“I sold my grandmother’s bracelet because you said you would lose your place at Columbia if you couldn’t pay the remaining tuition.”
Victoria slowly removed her hand from Damian’s arm.
“That bracelet,” she said quietly.
“The antique sapphire one?”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
Something changed in her face.
She looked at Damian.
“You told me that was your grandmother’s bracelet.”
My heartbeat stopped.
Damian didn’t answer.
Victoria stared at him.
“The bracelet you gave me on our first trip to Paris.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I whispered, “What?”
Victoria’s face had gone white.
“You said it belonged to your family.”
“I bought it back,” Damian said quickly.
My ears began ringing.
I stepped toward him.
“You what?”
Damian backed away.
“It’s not a big deal.”
Not a big deal.
My grandmother had worn that bracelet every Sunday for thirty-seven years.
It was the only expensive thing she had ever owned.
She gave it to me three weeks before she died.
When Damian needed tuition money, I had sold it to an antique dealer for eleven thousand dollars.
I cried the entire way home.
Damian had held me that night.
Promised someday he would buy it back.
Then after his promotion, he told me the dealer had already resold it and there was no way to trace it.
“You found it,” I whispered.
Damian said nothing.
“You found my grandmother’s bracelet.”
Victoria stared at him in horror.
“And you gave it to me?”
Damian reached for her.
“Victoria, listen—”
She stepped away.
Something cracked inside me.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
It was almost gentle.
The final thread connecting me to the person I had once loved simply snapped.
I took off Adrian’s jacket.
His brow furrowed.
Then I handed it carefully to him.
“Thank you.”
“Ava.”
“I’m okay.”
And for the first time in six months, I realized it was true.
Damian had broken my heart.
But he had not broken me.
I looked at him.
“I don’t want your apology anymore.”
His face shifted.
“Ava—”
“You can keep everything else you took.”
I paused.
“But I want my grandmother’s bracelet back.”
Victoria’s hand slowly moved toward her wrist.
She wasn’t wearing it tonight.
“I’ll return it.”
Damian stared at her.
“Victoria.”
She ignored him.
“I didn’t know.”
“I believe you.”
Her eyes met mine.
For the first time all evening, there was no superiority in them.
Only humiliation.
And perhaps something approaching regret.
Then Adrian said quietly, “Miss Mercer.”
I turned.
A gray-haired man stood several feet away holding a tablet.
I recognized him as one of Adrian Vale’s attorneys from photographs in business publications.
Adrian looked at him.
“Have someone contact the auction house where the bracelet was originally sold.”
Damian’s face changed.
“How do you know there was an auction house?”
Adrian didn’t answer.
Neither did I.
But a strange chill moved down my spine.
Adrian knew too much.
My name.
The orchid.
The Beaumont deal.
And now somehow—
The bracelet.
“Adrian,” I said slowly.
He looked at me.
Before I could ask, the lights dimmed.
A microphone clicked.
The foundation chairman stepped onto the stage and nervously announced the beginning of the charity presentation.
Conversation reluctantly resumed.
Guests returned to their seats.
The spectacle was apparently over.
But mine was just beginning.
My supervisor hurried toward us.
“Ava.”
I turned.
Marianne Bellmere was sixty-two, terrifying, and capable of making hedge-fund managers apologize for incorrect napkin placement.
Tonight she looked furious.
My stomach sank.
“I’m sorry,” I said immediately.
“I’ll clean the floor.
And my dress—”
“You’re fired.”
The words struck harder than the champagne.
“What?”
“My client’s gala became a circus because of your personal drama.”
“Marianne, Damian approached me.”
“I don’t care.”
Her gaze flicked nervously toward Adrian.
“You should have walked away.”
“I tried.”
“Enough.”
I felt every eye nearby turn toward us.
Of course.
One humiliation apparently wasn’t sufficient.
Marianne pulled the staff badge from my waist.
“Collect your things and leave through the service entrance.”
My cheeks burned.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I turned before she could see my eyes fill.
I had taken three steps when Adrian spoke.
“Mrs.
Bellmere.”
Marianne froze.
“Yes, Mr.
Vale?”
“You’re fired.”
Silence.
She blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Vale Dominion acquired Bellmere Events at nine forty-seven this morning.”
My head snapped toward him.
Marianne’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
Adrian continued.
“The acquisition becomes effective Monday.
I had intended to keep existing leadership.”
His eyes sharpened.
“I have reconsidered.”
Marianne looked as if someone had unplugged her.
“You can’t—”
“My legal department will contact you.”
Then he turned toward me.
“You’re not fired.”
I stared at him.
“This is insane.”
A faint smile appeared.
“Probably.”
“Why did you buy Bellmere Events?”
“I didn’t buy it because of you.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
I folded my arms.
Champagne squished unpleasantly inside my shoe.
“And why exactly did you call me your fiancée?”
His expression changed.
The smile disappeared.
“I needed Damian Cross to believe it.”
“For what?”
Adrian glanced toward the ballroom.
Damian was standing beside Victoria, arguing in furious whispers.
“Not here.”
Every instinct I possessed told me to walk away.
Instead, ten minutes later, I found myself inside an empty conference room on the hotel’s mezzanine.
Adrian closed the door.
I stayed near it.
“You have five minutes.”
“Generous.”
“You lied about being engaged to me.”
“Yes.”
“In front of approximately forty people.”
“Closer to sixty.”
I glared.
“That was not a correction I needed.”
He almost smiled.
I pointed at him.
“And you somehow know about my grandmother’s bracelet.”
The smile vanished.
“Yes.”
“How?”
Adrian walked toward the window.
Below us, Fifth Avenue glittered beneath the night sky.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he reached into his pocket.
He placed a photograph on the conference table.
My heart stopped.
It was me.
Not recently.
I was maybe eight years old.
I was sitting on the front steps of my grandmother’s house in Queens, missing one front tooth and holding a melting strawberry ice cream.
Beside me stood a boy.
Older.
Maybe thirteen.
Dark hair.
Serious eyes.
My hands started trembling.
“Where did you get this?”
Adrian looked at the photograph.
“My mother took it.”
I looked from the picture to him.
“No.”
He said nothing.
I looked closer.
The boy had changed.
Of course he had.
Twenty years had passed.
But the eyes—
I knew those eyes.
A memory surfaced.
Summer heat.
Fireflies.
A broken bicycle chain.
A quiet teenage boy staying with neighbors for three weeks.
A boy who fixed my bicycle even though I had accidentally thrown a juice box at him earlier that afternoon.
“Adrian?”
His jaw tightened.
“You called me Ian.”
I stumbled backward.
“Oh my God.”
He had lived two houses away.
Temporarily.
I remembered almost nothing about his family.
Only that he disappeared suddenly.
One morning the house was empty.
I had cried because he had promised to finish building me a treehouse.
“You left.”
“Yes.”
“You never said goodbye.”
“No.”
A strange expression crossed his face.
“I wasn’t given the opportunity.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“What does this have to do with Damian?”
Adrian remained silent too long.
“Everything.”
My stomach tightened.
He opened a leather folder and removed several documents.
He pushed them across the table.
Bank statements.
Wire transfers.
Corporate registrations.
Names I didn’t recognize.
Then I saw one I did.
Damian Cross.
“What is this?”
“Your ex-boyfriend has been moving money through shell companies for nearly three years.”
My blood went cold.
“He works in acquisitions.”
“He works in theft.”
I looked at Adrian.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“He exploited confidential valuation data from Halberd Capital.
Bought property through intermediaries before acquisitions were announced.
Sold positions afterward.”
I stared at the documents.
“Insider trading?”
“Among other things.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because one of those shell companies was opened using your identity.”
The air disappeared from the room.
I laughed once.
It sounded wrong.
“My identity?”
Adrian slid another paper forward.
AVA ELIZABETH MORGAN.
My full legal name.
My old Brooklyn address.
My Social Security number partially masked.
My signature.
Except—
“That isn’t my signature.”
“I know.”
I stared at him.
“How long have you known?”
“Eleven days.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I needed evidence.”
“You needed evidence?”
My voice rose.
“You discover someone stole my identity and your response is to spy on me?”
“Yes.”
His answer was so calm that anger exploded through me.
I slapped the papers against the table.
“You don’t get to decide that!”
“No.”
“No?”
“You’re right.”
That stopped me.
Adrian stepped closer.
“I should have told you sooner.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
His face hardened.
“Because I didn’t know whether you were involved.”
I recoiled.
“You thought I was helping Damian?”
“Initially.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Wonderful.”
“The financial records made it plausible.”
“I worked two jobs while he went to school.”
“I know.”
“I sold my grandmother’s bracelet.”
“I know.”
“I ate noodles for weeks because that man needed money, and you thought I was secretly laundering millions?”
“Twenty-eight million.”
My mouth opened.
Adrian continued quietly.
“And once I investigated you, I stopped believing you were involved.”
“Investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
He didn’t answer.
“Adrian.”
“Everything.”
A chill crawled over my skin.
“My employment?”
“Yes.”
“My bank accounts?”
“Yes.”
“My family?”
“Yes.”
“My mother?”
He went still.
There.
Something.
My heart began beating faster.
“What about my mother?”
Adrian looked toward the window.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“Ava.”
“What did you find?”
He slowly exhaled.
“This isn’t the time.”
I stepped closer.
“You do not get to investigate my entire life and then decide what I’m allowed to know.”
His eyes met mine.
For the first time that night, Adrian Vale looked uncertain.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
“What did you find?”
He reached into the folder again.
This time his hand paused.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His entire expression changed.
He answered immediately.
“Vale.”
Silence.
His eyes moved to me.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Secure the building.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“We need to leave.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
He took my hand.
I pulled away.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me about my mother.”
“Ava.”
“What did you find?”
The conference-room door suddenly opened.
Adrian moved so quickly I barely saw it.
One second he stood beside me.
The next, he was between me and the door.
But it wasn’t a threat.
It was his attorney.
The gray-haired man looked pale.
“Mr.
Vale.”
“What?”
“There’s been another transaction.”
Adrian’s shoulders stiffened.
“How much?”
“Five million.”
“From where?”
The attorney looked at me.
Then back at Adrian.
“The Morgan account.”
My stomach twisted.
“What Morgan account?”
Neither man answered.
I slammed my palm against the table.
“Stop talking like I’m not here!”
The attorney hesitated.
Adrian nodded once.
He turned the tablet toward me.
The screen displayed a banking dashboard.
An account balance sat near the top.
$47,382,611.09.
I stared.
“What is that?”
“Your account,” Adrian said.
I laughed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I have nine hundred and twelve dollars in checking.”
“This account was established twenty-one years ago.”
My laughter died.
“By whom?”
Adrian didn’t answer.
The attorney did.
“Your mother.”
The room blurred.
“My mother didn’t have forty-seven million dollars.”
“She did,” Adrian said.
“No.”
“Ava—”
“No.”
My mother had borrowed grocery money.
My mother had driven a fifteen-year-old Toyota.
My mother once cried because the electricity was going to be disconnected.
Then she disappeared when I was sixteen.
Nothing made sense.
“This is some kind of mistake.”
“I thought so too.”
“Where did the money come from?”
Adrian and his attorney exchanged a look.
My heart hammered.
“Where?”
Adrian finally spoke.
“The original deposits came from Vale Holdings.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“My father’s company.”
A horrible silence filled the room.
I looked again at the childhood photograph.
At Adrian.
At the account.
Then back at him.
“You knew my mother.”
“My father did.”
“How?”
His jaw tightened.
Before he could answer, the conference-room lights went out.
Total darkness.
I gasped.
Adrian grabbed me.
“Stay behind me.”
Emergency lights flickered red along the walls.
His attorney reached for his phone.
“No signal.”
Footsteps sounded outside.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Adrian shoved the documents into the folder.
“What is happening?”
I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
The footsteps stopped outside the door.
A white envelope slid beneath it.
Then whoever had delivered it walked away.
Adrian waited several seconds before moving.
He picked up the envelope.
On the front, written in black ink, were two words.
FOR AVA.
My hands went cold.
“Don’t open it,” Adrian said.
“It has my name.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
I tore it open.
Inside was another photograph.
This one was recent.
Very recent.
My mother.
Older now.
Gray streaks through her dark hair.
Standing outside a stone villa overlooking what appeared to be the Mediterranean.
Alive.
My knees nearly gave out.
“No.”
Adrian caught my arm.
I flipped the photograph over.
One sentence was written across the back.
ASK ADRIAN WHY HIS FATHER PAID YOUR MOTHER TO DISAPPEAR.
I looked up.
Adrian had gone completely still.
“You knew.”
“Ava—”
“You knew!”
“I discovered it three days ago.”
Rage and shock crashed through me.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did your father pay her?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“Stop lying to me!”
“I’m not.”
I shoved the photograph against his chest.
“Everything tonight has been a lie.
The engagement.
Damian.
You investigating me.
All of it.”
“Not all of it.”
“Then tell me one thing that’s true.”
He stared at me.
For the first time, the infamous Adrian Vale had no polished answer.
No calculated response.
His voice, when it came, was almost quiet.
“I didn’t come to this gala because of Damian.”
My anger faltered.
“Then why?”
“I came because of you.”
Something in his expression made my heart stop.
Before I could speak, shouting erupted downstairs.
Then glass shattered.
Adrian’s attorney hurried to the window.
“Sir.”
We moved toward him.
Below us, the ballroom had descended into chaos.
Security officers surrounded Damian.
Two men in dark jackets were leading him away from Victoria.
Guests crowded near the walls.
Damian was shouting.
But he wasn’t looking at the security officers.
He was looking up.
At us.
At me.
And even through the glass, I could read his lips.
Ava.
Run.
Then Damian tore free from one of the guards for half a second.
Long enough to point directly at Adrian.
And scream something else.
“He’s the one who chose you!”
I turned.
Adrian’s face became unreadable.
“What does that mean?”
He said nothing.
“Adrian.”
The attorney backed away from us.
That frightened me.
I looked down at the photograph of my mother again.
My mother.
Vale Holdings.
Twenty-one years.
Forty-seven million dollars.
Damian using my identity.
Adrian appearing at exactly the right moment.
One impossible thought began assembling itself from pieces I didn’t want to connect.
I whispered, “You said the account was opened twenty-one years ago.”
“Yes.”
“I was eight.”
“Yes.”
“That was the summer we met.”
Adrian didn’t move.
My blood turned to ice.
“You didn’t meet me by accident.”
Silence.
“You were sent there.”
His eyes closed briefly.
That was enough.
I stepped backward.
“Oh my God.”
“Ava, listen to me.”
“No.”
“My father sent me to that neighborhood, but I didn’t know why.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I was thirteen.”
“Then why me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You investigated everything.
You always know.”
“Not this.”
Another crash echoed from below.
Adrian moved toward me.
I stepped away.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message appeared across the screen.
I saw the sender.
UNKNOWN.
And beneath it:
SHE KNOWS TOO MUCH.
FINISH WHAT YOUR FATHER STARTED.
Adrian immediately locked the phone.
Too late.
I had seen it.
We stared at each other.
For the first time that night, I wasn’t wondering why New York feared Adrian Vale.
I was wondering whether I should fear him too.
Then the conference-room door slammed shut behind us.
The electronic lock clicked.
And from somewhere inside the darkened room came a woman’s voice.
A voice I had not heard in thirteen years.
“Ava?”
My entire body froze.
I turned slowly.
A figure stepped from behind the partition.
Gray-streaked dark hair.
Trembling hands.
Tears already falling.
My mother stared at me.
Alive.
Standing ten feet away.
But she wasn’t looking at me anymore.
She was looking at Adrian.
And the terror on her face was unmistakable.
“You,” she whispered.
Adrian went white.
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Ava, we have to leave.”
“Mom?”
“Now.”
“What happened?
Where have you been?”
She shook her head violently.
“No time.”
Then she looked at Adrian again.
“You never told her?”
His voice dropped.
“I didn’t know.”
“Liar.”
My pulse thundered.
“Tell me what?”
My mother’s fingers tightened around mine.
She looked into my eyes.
And said the sentence that shattered everything I thought I knew about my life.
“Adrian Vale isn’t trying to protect your inheritance, sweetheart.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He is your inheritance.”
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Source: Stories of Destiny · Thanh Thanh
