Part 2

“Are you sure you want to go to the minimarket alone? I can keep you company if you’d like,” Antony offered. He’s my neighbor—his house is about two kilometers from mine. You could say he’s the closest thing I have to a friend out here.

Even so, I’m still not used to someone worrying about me. Not after Jason was the only one who ever did.

“It’s okay. I can manage. Besides, you’re busy,” I said, gently turning him down.

“My shop isn’t far from the minimarket. I could go with you,” he insisted, but I shook my head.

He closed the door of his pickup truck, finally giving up. With a small smile, he waved at me through the window. “Come see me later, okay?” Then he drove off, leaving the yard of my house—the one that had slowly started to look decent since I moved in.

I went back inside and straightened up the dining table. The TV was on in the background, airing the news. As I wiped the table with a cloth, my eyes drifted to the screen, where a photo of a man appeared with bold text beneath it.

“Kael Montenegro is presumed dead after a severe car accident,” the news anchor reported. “The man believed to be the primary heir of the Montenegro family was involved in a tragic crash that sent his sports car off a cliff. Rescue teams are still searching for his body, but it has not yet been found.”

I watched the footage carefully. Search teams were combing the cliffside. A luxury sports car hung from a tree, completely wrecked. Seeing that, I was certain he had to be dead—crushed against rocks and trees. Worst case, wild animals might have gotten to him.

Who knows.

When the report ended, I changed clothes and grabbed my shopping bag from the kitchen. Passing through the living room, I turned off the TV before heading out to the old garage beside the house. I backed my sedan out.

At least my father kept his promise to provide proper facilities out here. The only downside—there aren’t many people. The houses are far apart. If Antony and I became friends, it’s only because we kept running into each other while jogging through the forest.

I drove past forests and steep cliffs before reaching the small town nearby. It’s tiny—the main road takes less than five minutes to pass through. No hospital. Just a small clinic, a minimarket, a few cafés, and small shops lined up along the street. The rest are houses.

Looking at how remote this place is, I’m sure my father planned this from the beginning. Exiling his illegitimate daughter. It wasn’t easy at first, but after getting to know Antony, things became a little more bearable.

I parked in front of the minimarket and went inside with my shopping list. After nearly an hour, I loaded everything into the trunk. A young cashier helped carry out a large box of snacks.

“Thanks, Ford!” I said, slipping a few bills into his jacket pocket. “Tip!”

“Thanks, Ivy! You’re the best,” he replied, waving.

I laughed and drove out of town. With music playing on the radio, I sang along, rolling down the window and letting the wind whip through my brown hair.

A luxury car passed from the opposite lane. I glanced at the driver—and at the man in the backseat calmly smoking a cigar.

Just from the brand alone, it was obvious they weren’t middle class. But what were people like that doing in a place like this?

I almost laughed at the thought that maybe someone else had been exiled here too.

Still singing, I caught sight of something moving near the cliff up ahead.

My brakes screeched as I slammed my foot down. Squinting, I realized someone was clinging to the rocks. The figure kept grabbing onto stones, only to slip and slide down again.

Realizing he needed help, I drove up to the bend and stopped near the barrier. I got out and rushed to the edge of the cliff.

“Hello! Can you hear me?” I shouted. “Answer me if you’re still alive!”

“Yes… I’m still alive.”

His voice was weak and trembling. I squinted again and saw a hand gripping a large rock. He grimaced, trying to pull himself up. When I saw his bruised, bloodied face, I realized he must have slipped.

Panic set in. I looked around for something he could grab onto. What… what… rope? I didn’t have one. I paced back and forth, my panic slowly turning into fear.

A luxury car pulled up behind me. Someone got out in a hurry—and pointed a gun at me.

I immediately raised my hands.

“What is this? I didn’t do anything!” I said. The middle-aged man approached, circling me before pressing the gun against my head. Dear God, if he pulled the trigger, I’d be dead.

Cold sweat soaked my forehead. Even swallowing felt impossible. I couldn’t breathe.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Did Dante send you to dump his body here, huh?”

I turned toward him. “Body? What body? And who’s Dante? I don’t know him!” I protested, my voice shaking, on the verge of tears.

The gun jabbed harder against my head. “Tell me—where is the Young Master?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about! I don’t know!” I screamed, my voice breaking.

“Mitch!” the man shouted.

Both of us looked down.

“Sir!” he yelled in shock.

“Help him, damn it!” I snapped.

He immediately ran to his car and pulled out a thick rope from the trunk.

Who even keeps something like that in their car? I thought, helping him lower it down. When the injured man grabbed onto it tightly, Mitch and I pulled with all our strength until the skin on my palms tore.

The pain burned, but I ignored it. When the bloodied figure finally reached the top, I collapsed onto the ground, staring at my bleeding hands.

Mitch dragged him onto the pavement and shook him. “Sir! Sir!”

I looked at the man they kept calling “Sir.” For a second, he seemed familiar. When I studied his face more closely, my mouth fell open.

“Kael Montenegro?”

Mitch looked at me. “Yes. Where do you live? I need to treat him.”

“My house? But—”

“There’s no time, Miss. Help me get him into my car. He has a severe head injury. He’s unconscious.”

With my hands still stinging, I helped Mitch lift Kael into the car. We drove to my modest house. Kael was laid on my bed, bruised and bleeding.

“Why—”

“Clean him up for now. I’ll call the doctor.”

“Why me?”

“Would you rather call the doctor?” the middle-aged man replied dryly.

I had no choice but to sit beside Kael and remove his torn shirt. There was a stab wound on his abdomen. I winced at the sight of several cuts on his arms and chest. Blood matted his hair stiff against his scalp.

On his chest, there was a tattoo—Roman lettering with the word imperium, wrapped by a serpent. I had no idea what it meant, and honestly, I didn’t care.

Mitch returned. “What’s your name?”

“Ivy,” I answered, standing and looking at him. “Why?”

He scanned my house carefully, as if weighing his options. He seemed to be making a difficult decision.

“For the time being, Kael will stay with you,” he said calmly.

I stared at him. “What?”

“The doctor will come here. I’ll handle all his needs.” He pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “Call me if you need anything.”

Then he hurried out.

“Hey, Mitch! Where are you going? What about Kael?”

“I have to leave, Miss Ivy. Like I said… he’ll stay with you for now.”

He left, just like that.

I stood there in my room, staring at Kael.

For now? How long is that supposed to be?

Oh God… what kind of joke is this?

Why does this man have to be in my house? In my room? Why?