(Robert POV)
I sat in my study, staring at nothing. I'd finally gotten her. The thought should've felt like victory. Instead, it sat heavy in my chest like swallowed glass. Mia's face kept surfacing in my mind—the way she'd smiled at the altar, forced and brittle. How she'd looked anywhere but at me during the vows. Those words she'd spoken meant nothing to her. Less than nothing. A knock. "Sir, the document you requested." Dennis stepped inside, my private investigator's face unreadable as always. He placed a manila folder on the desk. "The accident?" I asked. "Evidence points to the Black Wolves. Someone in the club has it out for you." My jaw tightened. "Find out who. Or every single member pays." "Yes, sir." He left. The door clicked shut. I opened the folder. DNA results. Johnson Ross and Mia Ross. Probability of paternity: 0%. I'd suspected. Now I knew. Johnson wasn't her father. That's why he'd gambled her away so easily—she'd never been his to lose. But if Johnson wasn't her father, then who was? I closed the folder and rubbed my face. Exhaustion pulled at my edges, but sleep felt impossible. My mind kept circling back to her—to the girl I'd watched for years from across a coffee shop counter. The one who'd smiled at me like I was just another customer, not a man who could buy the entire block. The girl I'd found crying under a kiosk one rainy afternoon, soaked and shaking, and couldn't forget no matter how hard I tried. I stood. My legs carried me down the hall before I'd decided to move. Outside her door, I stopped. *What are you doing?* My hand hovered over the doorknob. *She'll think you're here for something else. She'll think you want—* The thought sent ice down my spine. I pushed the door open anyway. Just a crack. She was asleep. The room's soft light painted her skin gold. She lay on her side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other stretched across the empty space beside her. Her nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone, the gentle slope down to— I looked away. She deserved someone better than this. Better than a contract. Better than me. The air conditioning hummed. She'd be cold. I should go in. Pull the blanket over her. Make sure she was warm. But if I touched her—even just to cover her—would she wake up terrified? Would she think I'd come to claim what the contract said was mine *at my discretion*? I couldn't do that to her. I closed the door. Carefully. The latch clicked soft as a breath. Back in my room, I stripped and stood under scalding water until my skin turned red. Changed into pajamas. Collapsed onto my bed. My phone lit up on the nightstand. Victoria. I ignored it. It buzzed again. **James is awake. And he knows about your marriage.** I was out the door in seconds. --- The hospital hallway smelled like disinfectant and dying flowers. My shoes squeaked on linoleum as I ran toward the private wing. James Lud. The man who'd raised me. Trained me. Built me into something useful. The man whose blood ran through my veins—a fact we'd only discovered six months ago when he'd needed a transfusion and I'd been the only match. Five years I'd worked under his name, carrying his legacy, thinking I was adopted. A charity case he'd taken in and molded. Then the blood test came back, and everything I thought I knew shattered. He was my father. Biological. Real. And he'd never told me. I pushed open the door to his room. James sat propped against pillows, looking thinner than I remembered. Older. The DNA results lay on his lap like an accusation. Victoria stood by the window, arms crossed, satisfaction dripping from her smile. "Son." James's voice was rough from disuse. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. "He got married today," Victoria said sweetly. "To some girl. Without your permission." James's expression darkened like storm clouds rolling in. The warmth drained from his face, replaced by something cold and sharp. "It was necessary," I said, hating how defensive I sounded. "The club won't grant me a presidential seat without a wife. You know that. The company needs—" "You dare disobey me over a *position*?" His voice filled the room, heavy as thunder. "I did it for you. For the company. For—" "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into." He turned his face away. "Get out of my sight." The words hit like a punch. Not *congratulations*. Not *we'll discuss this later*. Not even acknowledgment that I was his son—his *real* son—standing in front of him. Victoria's smile widened. She'd been holding this over me for months. Threatening to expose the truth—that I wasn't James Lud's adopted protégé but his biological son. His heir. His blood. The scandal would destroy everything. The company. The family name. My position in the Venoms. "Robert." James's voice stopped me at the door. I turned, hope flickering. His eyes were cold. Empty. "You chose her over my wishes. Live with that choice." --- I drove home too fast, the city blurring past in streaks of light. My phone buzzed. Victoria again. **You should've listened. Now we do this my way.** I threw the phone onto the passenger seat. The mansion was dark when I arrived. Silent. I climbed the stairs to the apartment, my legs heavy. Outside Mia's door, I stopped again. She was in there. Asleep. Unaware that marrying me had just painted a target on her back. James didn't approve. Victoria was circling like a shark. And I'd dragged Mia into the middle of it all because I'd been too selfish, too desperate to let her go. I pressed my palm against the door. *I'm sorry.* But sorry didn't fix anything. Sorry didn't keep her safe. I went to my room and didn't sleep. Outside, the city hummed. Inside, the clock on my nightstand ticked toward dawn. And somewhere in the dark, Victoria was planning her next move.(Robert POV)The board meeting at JR Investment felt strange.Normal, but wrong. Like returning to a house after a long vacation and finding everything slightly out of place.James sat at the head of the table where he'd always sat. Mick cracked inappropriate jokes about my shoulder. Victoria took notes with her usual efficiency.But everything had changed.I'd killed a man. Nearly died myself. Married the woman I loved not once but twice, contract and choice blending until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.And Mia was home discovering she controlled fifty billion dollars.Fifty billion.The number was incomprehensible. Made my family's wealth look like pocket change."Robert?" James's voice cut through my thoughts. "Your opinion on the merger?""Sorry, what?""The merger. With Chen Industries. We've been discussing it for twenty minutes."I glanced at the papers in front of me. Hadn't read a word. "I'll need to review the terms more carefully before deciding."Jame
(Mia POV)The paperwork took three weeks.Three weeks of lawyers, court dates, and endless documents to sign. Three weeks of proving I was capable of caring for Nel, that I had the means and stability to give him a good life.As if three point seven billion dollars wasn't proof enough.But the system had its processes. Its checks and balances. So I jumped through every hoop they put in front of me until finally, on a Thursday afternoon in late November, the judge signed the final order.Nel was officially mine. My ward. My responsibility. My family.Not a brother by blood, but close enough. The paperwork said guardian, but my heart said something deeper."How do you feel?" Robert asked as we left the courthouse.Nel held my hand, swinging it slightly. He'd been quiet during the hearing, watching the adults talk about his future like he wasn't there."Good," I said. "Scared. Relieved.""All at once?""All at once."We drove home through light traffic. Nel fell asleep in the backseat, e
(Mia POV)I signed the papers on a Tuesday.Thirty days after the lawyer's visit, thirty days of carrying Richard's offer like a stone in my pocket, I finally gave in.Mia Cops. The name felt foreign on my tongue. Wrong. Like wearing someone else's skin.But Robert was right. Letting Richard's money fund his causes would be letting him win. Again. And I was tired of losing to a dead man.The media exploded.Lost heiress found. Tragic reunion cut short by violence. Daughter inherits billions from father she barely knew. The headlines wrote themselves, each one more dramatic than the last.My face was everywhere. Photos from the funeral, from old school records, from security footage outside the warehouse. Someone even found my wedding photo with Robert, plastered it across tabloids with speculation about contract marriages and hidden fortunes.The world knew me now. Mia Cops, billionaire heiress. No longer just some girl who'd married Robert Lud under mysterious circumstances.I hated
(Robert POV)The wheelchair was a prison.Not because of the pain, though my shoulder throbbed like someone had driven nails through bone. Not because of the limitation, though every simple task became a battle of will versus physics.The wheelchair was a prison because it gave me too much time to watch.And what I saw was destroying me.Two weeks had passed since the funerals. Fourteen days of watching Mia shrink into herself like a flower closing against the cold. She moved through the mansion like a shadow, present but not really there.She took care of me. That was the worst part.Every morning she appeared with medication and water, her face carefully blank. She helped me dress when my shoulder screamed in protest. She made meals I couldn't eat and sat beside me in silence while we both pretended to be fine.Her hands were always gentle. Too gentle. Like I was made of glass that might shatter if she pressed too hard.Like she was trying to fix what she'd broken."You don't have t
(Mia POV)The silence stretched between us like something physical. Heavy enough to touch. Sharp enough to cut.Robert looked different in the wheelchair. Smaller somehow, though that was impossible. The same broad shoulders, the same strong jaw. But something essential had been carved out of him, leaving only the shell behind.Like looking at a building after a fire. Still standing, but gutted."You should be resting," I said finally, because someone had to say something."I've been resting for ten days." His voice was hoarse, rough from disuse. "I'm tired of resting."I took a step closer. Then another. Moving carefully, like approaching a wounded animal."Does it hurt?" I gestured vaguely at his shoulder."Yes."Just yes. No elaboration. No reassurance that it wasn't that bad, that he'd be fine, that the pain medication was helping.Just the truth, stark and simple.I didn't know what to do with that."The doctor said you need physical therapy," I offered. "Six to eight weeks befor
( Mia POV)The investigation took three days.Three days of Detective Morrison asking the same questions in different ways. Three days of lawyers huddled in corners, whispering about liability and public perception. Three days of waiting to hear if Robert would be charged with murder or celebrated as a hero.In the end, the verdict was clear: justified shooting. Defense of others. Robert had acted to protect Nel's life when Richard raised his weapon. The video footage from the warehouse cameras confirmed it. Open and shut.I felt nothing when Victoria told me the news.Nothing when the lawyer explained that Robert wouldn't face charges.Nothing when James released a statement praising his son's bravery while condemning Richard's villainy.The numbness had settled into my bones like frost, turning everything brittle and cold.---Jake's funeral was on Friday.The sky was gray, threatening rain but never delivering. Like even the weather couldn't commit to mourning properly.His family