CHAPTER ONE: THE PRICE OF OBEDIENCE

The first thing I saw that morning was blood.

Not mine.

At least, not yet.

It was splattered across the white marble floor outside my father's study, mixed with the broken pieces of a glass vase.

I stopped walking so abruptly that the heel of my shoe scraped against the floor.

For a few seconds, I simply stared.

The blood was still wet.

A small drop slid slowly along the edge of a broken piece of glass before falling onto the marble.

My stomach turned.

I looked around the hallway.

Two guards stood a few feet away, their expressions unreadable as they stared straight ahead.

Neither of them looked at the blood.

Neither of them looked at me.

That was when I became more nervous.

“What happened here?”

My voice came out quieter than I intended.

The guards didn't answer.

I looked from one to the other.

“Whose blood?”

Still nothing.

Of course.

In this palace, silence was practically another language.

I took another careful step, making sure not to step on the broken glass.

My eyes remained on the closed doors of my father's study.

Whatever had happened inside, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like the answer.

I continued down the hallway anyway.

I was almost at the end when the doors behind me opened.

“Shane.”

I stopped.

My father's secretary stood in the doorway, clutching a black folder against his chest.

He looked nervous.

That made two of us.

“Your father wants to see you.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the blood.

“Now?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

I turned fully toward him.

“Tell him I'll come later.”

The secretary's face immediately lost what little color it had left.

“Ma'am, please.”

I stared at him for a moment.

Then I sighed.

“I'm kidding.”

His shoulders dropped in relief.

I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

I turned around and walked toward the study.

As much as I hated my father, I wasn't stupid enough to make him wait when I already knew he was angry.

I entered without knocking.

My father stood beside the window with his hands behind his back.

He didn't look at me.

I slowed my steps.

That was never a good sign.

Whenever my father was angry, he didn't need to raise his voice. In fact, the quieter he became, the more careful everyone around him had to be.

“Father.”

He remained silent.

I glanced at his desk.

Several documents were spread across the surface beside a tablet and a photograph.

The moment I saw the photograph, I already knew who it was.

My stepsister.

My stomach tightened.

He picked up the photograph.

Then he threw it toward me.

I caught it against my chest more out of instinct than skill.

“You knew.”

I frowned.

“Knew what?”

He walked toward the desk and dropped another photograph onto it.

I looked down.

My stepsister was entering a hotel with a married politician.

The photograph was clear.

Too clear.

My fingers tightened around the edges.

“I didn't know.”

“You're her sister.”

“Step-sister.” The correction escaped before I could stop it.

My father's eyes immediately lifted toward mine.

I felt my stomach drop.

I lowered my gaze.

“Sorry.”

Why did I say that?

My father didn't respond immediately.

He didn't have to.

The silence was enough.

“You were supposed to watch her.”

I slowly looked up.

“I wasn't aware that I was her babysitter.”

The words had barely left my mouth when I regretted them.

My father's expression remained perfectly calm.

That was worse.

He could have shouted.

I almost wished he would.

Instead, he said, “You're right.”

I blinked.

“I am?”

“You're not responsible for her choices.”

For half a second, relief loosened the knot in my chest.

Then he continued.

“But you are responsible for the consequences.”

There it was.

The trap.

I swallowed.

“The scandal is already spreading. The family name is being dragged through the mud. And who do you think must be blamed and held accountable for this mess?”

I already knew.

“Me.”

“Correct.”

I nodded.

“Yes, Father.”

“You will handle the situation.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“You will make sure she stays inside the palace until I decide what to do with her.”

“Okay, Father.”

“And you will personally speak to the people involved.”

I hesitated.

I wanted to ask why.

I wanted to tell him that none of this was my fault.

But I knew better than to waste my breath.

“Yes.”

He stepped closer.

“Do you know what happens when this family is embarrassed?”

I said nothing.

His eyes remained fixed on mine.

“And if you fail to fix this, I will make sure you are punished.”

My fingers curled against my palms.

“And someone else will be dragged into this because of your incompetence.”

My heart sank.

He didn't say her name.

He didn't need to.

Althea.

My real sister.

The one person he could use to make me obey without ever raising his voice.

I forced myself to breathe normally.

“I understand.”

“Good.”

He returned to his desk.

The conversation was apparently over.

At least, I thought it was.

“And stop looking for them.”

My feet froze.

I didn't turn around.

My father's voice remained calm.

“I know about your little trips. Spain. Japan. Everywhere you think you can search without my knowledge.”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

So he knew.

Of course he knew.

My father always knew more than he should.

“I was only traveling for business.”

“Don't lie to me.”

His faint smile made my skin crawl.

I lowered my head.

“Yes, Father.”

“If you continue searching for them, I won't stop you.”

I slowly looked at him.

For one foolish second, I thought I'd finally been given permission.

Then he added,

“But Althea will suffer the consequences.”

The relief disappeared instantly.

My blood ran cold.

He leaned back in his chair.

“Do you understand now?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

I swallowed.

“I understand, Dad.”

“Good girl.”

The words should have sounded like praise.

They didn't.

They never did.

I turned toward the door.

“Shane.”

I stopped.

“You're my most obedient daughter.”

I forced a smile.

“Thank you, Father.”

I walked out.

The moment the doors closed behind me, my smile vanished.

I released a breath I'd been holding for far too long.

My hands were cold.

My chest felt tight.

But I kept walking.

I didn't run.

I didn't slam the doors.

I didn't cry.

That was what my father wanted.

A daughter who obeyed.

A daughter who bowed her head.

A daughter who never fought back.

So that's what I gave him.

A performance.

Because if my father wanted a weak daughter—

I'd give him the weakest one he'd ever seen.

I just needed him to keep believing it.

I was halfway down the corridor when I heard footsteps behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Nobody.

I frowned.

For a moment, I wondered if I'd imagined it.

Then my phone vibrated inside my coat.

I pulled it out.

One message.

No name.

No number I recognized.

"Stop looking."

My heart skipped.

I stared at the screen.

Another message appeared.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

I looked around the corridor.

Nothing.

The guards were still standing near my father's studio.

I quickly locked my phone.

Someone was watching me.

The question was who.

I started walking again, but this time I paid attention to every sound around me.

A few minutes later, I reached the palace's eastern exit.

I pushed the doors open.

Cold morning air hit my face.

I stepped outside.

Then I saw him.

A man stood beside a black car parked near the far end of the driveway.

He wasn't wearing a palace uniform.

He wasn't one of the guards.

And he definitely wasn't supposed to be there.

I slowed down.

He seemed to notice me at the same time.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

He wore dark clothes and a black mask that covered most of his face.

I couldn't see his features.

But his eyes—

They were grey.

I had never seen eyes like that before.

Not because they were beautiful.

Because they were unreadable.

Cold, but not empty.

Calm, but somehow threatening.

I should have walked away.

Instead, I found myself staring.

He tilted his head slightly.

“You shouldn't be here.”

His voice was low.

Calm.

Almost annoyingly calm.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

I couldn't see his mouth behind the mask, but somehow I knew he was amused.

“Then we're both observant.”

“And you're trespassing.” I folded my arms.

“Am I?”

“Yes.” I glanced toward the palace gates.

“I don't see any guards stopping me.” He looked around casually.

“Maybe they're afraid of you.”

“Are you?”

“No.” I almost laughed.

That answer came too quickly.

His eyes lingered on mine.

“You should be.”

My amusement disappeared.

There was something in the way he said it.

I took one step closer.

“Who are you?” I asked, but he didn't answer.

Instead, he looked at me.As if he were studying every little detail of my face. It made me uncomfortable. And strangely curious.

I waited for a few seconds, hoping he'd eventually realize that staring at me wasn't exactly an answer.

“You know, That's rude.” I said, crossing my arms.

“What?” he asked.

“Staring at someone without introducing yourself.”

His gaze shifted briefly toward my coat. Then back to my eyes.

“You're Shane.”

My body stiffened.

“How do you know my name?”

The surroundings abruptly plunged into silence.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I took a step closer, narrowing the distance between us.

“Who sent you?”

“Does it matter?” he murmured, closing the final bit of distance between us.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you're standing outside my family's palace wearing a mask and talking to me like you already know me.”

His head tilted. "And you ask too many questions. I guess we're even." He smirked,

And for the first time, something changed in his eyes.

A flicker of amusement.

I hated that I noticed.

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch me.

Just enough that I could feel the shift in the air between us.

My heartbeat quickened.

I refused to step back.

His grey eyes remained fixed on mine.

“You should stop looking.”

My breath caught.

The same warning.

The same words from the message.

My fingers curled.

“You sent that message?”

He didn't answer.

“You're the one who's been watching me?”

Still nothing.

I stared at him.

“You know where they are?”

His eyes hardened.

For the first time, his calm expression seemed to crack.

“Go home, Shane.”

“You know them.” My chest tightened.

“Forget what you saw.” He stepped back.

“I don't forget things.”

“I noticed.”

Then he turned toward the car.

I instinctively reached for his arm.

He stopped.

So did I.

His gaze dropped to my hand.

I slowly pulled it away.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then his eyes lifted to mine again.

Grey.

Cold.

Unreadable.

But there was something else there now.

Recognition.

And that scared me more than anything else.

“You'll see me again,” he said quietly.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I frowned.

His eyes held mine for another second.

“No.”

He opened the car door.

“It was a warning.”

Then he got inside.

The car drove away before I could ask another question.

I stood there, watching it disappear beyond the gates.

My heart was still beating too fast.

I touched my fingers where they'd almost held his arm.

Who the hell was that man?

And more importantly—

How did he know about my family?

I looked back at the palace.

For the first time that morning, the blood outside my father's studio didn't feel like the most dangerous thing I'd seen.

It was him.

The stranger with the grey eyes.

And somehow, I knew this wasn't the last time our paths would cross.

I just didn't know yet that meeting him would change everything.