“Hello.”
The word lingered in the air, sweet as honey, sharp as glass. Sienna stood close enough for her perfume to bleed into the space between them—roses and smoke, cloying and suffocating. Her smile was flawless, but her eyes worked like scalpels, dissecting every inch of the stranger before her. Amara tilted her head, as though studying a curious insect that had dared land on her glass. Her smile unfurled, patient, deliberate. “Good evening,” she said, her voice soft but steady, silk pulled taut over steel. No tremor, no hesitation. It was a voice crafted for this very moment, and it slipped through Sienna’s ears like a blade between ribs. Sienna’s gaze flickered—just for a moment—before she reset her smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I make a point of knowing everyone worth knowing.” Amara let her laugh spill, low and unhurried, the kind that suggested amusement at a private joke. She lifted her champagne flute, let the crystal catch the chandelier light. “Oh, I’m certain we’ll come to know each other soon enough.” She said it lightly, casually, but the weight of the words pressed into the space between them, invisible and undeniable. Sienna blinked, her polished façade tightening just slightly. “And you are…?” Amara sipped her champagne, savoring the silence she left hanging. Damien’s words whispered at the back of her mind: Whispers make them lean closer. She let Sienna lean, let the tension stretch until the hostess’s smile strained against her skin. “Amara Voss.” The name slid out like smoke, confident and untraceable. A name with no past. A name that would give them sleepless nights in the coming days. Sienna’s lashes lowered. She repeated it once, quietly, like she was tasting it. “Voss.” She didn't know a Voss she thought. Looking at the woman who exuded so much power and wealth. Amara inclined her head, her gaze steady. “It’s a pleasure to be here. Your event is… remarkable.” “Thank you,” Sienna said, composure snapping back into place, though her eyes were still sharp, probing and hungry. “Remarkable is what we aim for.” She let her glance skim Amara’s gown, her jewels, the way she carried herself. “And you wear remarkable very well.” The compliment was a knife wrapped in velvet. Amara smiled as though she hadn’t noticed the edge. “One tries.” But inside, beneath the gown and the mask, her pulse thundered. Because this was the woman. The woman who had dragged Milo’s body across stone and tossed him like refuse into the abyss. The woman whose laughter still haunted her dreams. The urge to lunge, to bare her throat and scream his name, burned like acid in her veins. "Not to be impolite. But are you here by yourself?" "Yes, why?" "Nothing. I was only curious." Amara caught sight of the ring on Sienna's hand. " Understandable. Forgive my manners. Congratulations Mrs Cade." " Oh, Thank you." Sienna took the opportunity to show off her Ring. She and Ethan had only gotten married last month. They put it off for so long because of the stupid bitch Elara. They still haven't found her body. "I'm still getting used to the title. It's only been a month." And yet—Amara only tilted her head, let her lashes lower, and replied as though nothing bled inside her. A silence stretched between them. Not awkward. Electric. From across the room, Ethan had noticed. His gaze lingered, suspicious, calculating. He murmured something to a man at his side, and already the first thread of surveillance had been cast toward her. Perfect. Let them chase shadows. Let them bleed resources trying to unravel the mystery of Amara Voss. Sienna’s smile softened, the way predators soften just before they strike. “Perhaps later we’ll speak more. I’d like to know where you come from. What you… do.” Amara’s answering smile was a masterpiece. “Perhaps.” Her eyes held Sienna’s for a fraction longer than courtesy allowed. And in that fraction, she let the mask slip—not enough to betray herself, but enough to let Sienna feel it. That flicker of something darker. The shadow of an old ghost brushing her skin. Sienna’s shoulders stiffened before she caught herself. Her smile returned, smooth, practiced, but her hand gripped her glass tighter. “Enjoy the evening,” she said, voice clipped. “I intend to.” Amara inclined her head, then turned back to the painting of the storm breaking over the sea. Her reflection in the glass showed her own smile, sharp as broken glass. Behind her, Sienna’s heels clicked away. But Amara knew. She felt it—the weight of eyes on her back, suspicion already blooming. The trap was set. And tonight was only the beginning. Oh how much she'd enjoy the chaos she'd reap into their lives.The auctioneer’s gavel cracked like thunder.“Sold—five hundred and fifty million dollars to Ms. Amara Voss.”Applause detonated through the armory. Flashbulbs exploded, white stars strobing across the marble.Amara lowered her paddle with deliberate grace, the thrum in her chest a private drumline. Kaylee’s quiet exhale reached her ear like a prayer.Across the aisle, Ethan Cade didn’t flinch. He merely adjusted his cuff links, a flicker of muscle in his jaw the only betrayal. Sienna’s amber eyes glittered with the delight of someone watching two predators test each other’s teeth.Ethan rose first. His stride was unhurried, perfectly measured, and the crowd made room as if the marble itself obeyed him. He stopped in front of Amara and extended a hand.“Impressive,” he said, voice all velvet and smoke. “Congratulations, Ms. Voss. Hudson Apex is in formidable hands.”The mock-respect in his tone brushed against her like a knife’s flat side. His palm was warm, his grip steady—just a lit
The Midtown skyline glittered like a field of cold stars as Amara Voss stepped from the black town car. Wind coiled around the hem of her sable coat, carrying the metallic scent of the East River and the faint throb of late-night traffic.Kaylee moved beside her, clipboard tucked under one arm, every line of her posture whispering bodyguard in disguise. Amara had become fond of the girl. She was only a few years older than her but she looked like her like she hung up stars, with some kind of admiration that Amara didn't see herself worthy of.Inside the converted armory the air shimmered with money and expectation. Chandeliers the size of small planets spilled light across marble floors. The night’s prize was the Hudson Apex Development—a twenty-acre stretch of derelict waterfront slated to become the city’s next billion-dollar jewel.A hundred investors circled like sharks in designer suits. Cameras flashed. Champagne hissed. Amara felt every gaze slide toward her like a test blade.
CADE ESTATE Morning light slid across the Hudson like a blade, the kind of pale September sun that looked gentle until you stepped into it and felt the bite.Inside a house of steel and smoked glass, Ethan Cade poured a second espresso and studied the woman lounging barefoot on his white-marble counter.Sienna never hurried. She let her silk robe slip enough to remind him of everything they’d built and destroyed together.The air between them tasted like ambition disguised as intimacy.“New money,” she said at last, flipping a glossy portfolio across the counter. “Amara Voss. Guess where she hatched?”Ethan scanned the dossier. “Zurich?”“Close. Geneva. Parents owned a string of private banking houses. Old European cash married to new-tech investments. Both conveniently dead, plane crash in the Pyrenees six months ago. Left her an estate outside Lucerne and the controlling shares of Voss International. Two months later, she liquidates half the assets and relocates to New York.”Sienn
VOSS ESTATE The lake lay black and endless beyond the tall windows, a sheet of quiet that mirrored the night sky.Amara Voss—once Elara, always mother—sat at a mahogany desk facing that darkness, a single lamp haloing her in warm light.The house slept around her: guards at their stations, cameras humming, Kaylee’s precise footsteps faded into silence hours ago.Only the scratch of her fountain pen broke the hush.Each night she wrote to Milo.Not emails—never something that could be hacked or forwarded—but letters on heavy cream paper, the kind that smelled faintly of linen and rain.She wrote as though the boy still breathed, as though his laughter still ricocheted through mountain air instead of echoing inside her skull.Tonight the ink bled darker than usual, a storm pressed into script.~ My son,The world thinks you’re gone.They don’t know that every breath I take is for you.Tonight I walked into the serpent’s den.Sienna smiled with the same mouth that cursed you, but her ey
The gala still pulsed behind her when Amara slipped out the side doors.Cool night air licked against the heat of champagne and chandeliers, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the metallic scent of rain. She didn’t glance back. A queen never checks whether her court is watching—she knows.But she heard them. The hush that followed her exit. The sudden swell of whispers.Who was she?Did you see that gown?Voss… never heard of her family.Good. Let them chew on the name until it splinters their perfect teeth.A black sedan waited at the curb. The driver, broad-shouldered and silent, opened the rear door. Amara slid in, skirts whispering across the leather. As the car pulled away, the mirrored windows of the Cade estate caught her reflection: a woman carved from shadow and moonlight, lips curved in a secret no one could guess.---------The Cades’ Residence – MidnightSienna kicked off her heels the second the doors closed, fury sparking beneath her diamond-cool facade.“Who is tha
“Hello.”The word lingered in the air, sweet as honey, sharp as glass. Sienna stood close enough for her perfume to bleed into the space between them—roses and smoke, cloying and suffocating. Her smile was flawless, but her eyes worked like scalpels, dissecting every inch of the stranger before her.Amara tilted her head, as though studying a curious insect that had dared land on her glass. Her smile unfurled, patient, deliberate.“Good evening,” she said, her voice soft but steady, silk pulled taut over steel. No tremor, no hesitation. It was a voice crafted for this very moment, and it slipped through Sienna’s ears like a blade between ribs.Sienna’s gaze flickered—just for a moment—before she reset her smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I make a point of knowing everyone worth knowing.”Amara let her laugh spill, low and unhurried, the kind that suggested amusement at a private joke. She lifted her champagne flute, let the crystal catch the chandelier light. “Oh, I’m certain we’ll