MasukBefore he could finish his sentence, Damian lunged forward, slamming his weight against the dilapidated wooden table.The candle tumbled to the ground, its flame snuffed out instantly. The room plunged into pitch darkness.“Run, Juliet!” Damian yelled at the top of his lungs.Sounds of violent scuffling, shattering wood, and heavy thuds echoed through the dark room.“Get Gabriel Prescott!” the security guards shouted from outside as they stormed into the brick building, their flashlights sweeping frantically through the darkness.Amid the chaos of light and shadow, I saw him wildly swinging the knife.Damian threw his arms around him, pinning his wrists down with all his strength, but the glinting blade grazed across his arm, slicing through his suit jacket and leaving a deep, bloody gash.Blood splattered onto the cold cement floor.“Damian!” I screamed, lunging forward without a second thought.The security guards flooded in, tackling Gabriel to the ground and disarming the
“Juliet isn’t my father’s daughter. The ones my father saved from the fire that day were my mother and me.”It fell silent inside for a split second.“What did you say?” The raspy voice turned sharp and shrill. “Impossible! Didn’t Raymond Beaumont’s wife run off long before that? Why would she be at the orphanage?”“She was my mother’s best friend—and the director of the orphanage who truly wanted to protect those children,” Damian spoke word by word.The candlelight quivered violently, as if someone had knocked into something.“On the night my father set the fire, my mother was the first person to realize what was happening. She rushed in to save the children, and my father chased her into the flames.” Damian’s voice remained steady. “So the ones he saved... were his son, and the child his wife risked her life to protect.“And now you’re telling me Juliet is my father’s daughter? You’ve been lied to.”A long, drawn-out silence settled inside the room.Then, that raspy voice bu
“Not a chance.”He hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod, making no further attempt to change my mind.“Then stay close to me,” he said. “No matter what happens, do not leave my line of sight.”Accompanied by more than a dozen security guards, flashlight beams in hand, we navigated the mountain path toward the ruins.The mountain road at night was treacherous; the pebbles beneath our feet were slick with dew, making us slip back half a step for every step forward.Damian took the lead, the beam of his flashlight sweeping back and forth through the pitch-black woods.After walking for nearly twenty minutes, the silhouette of the ruins appeared up ahead.Unlike earlier during the day, a soft glow flickered deep inside the ruins—not from a flashlight, but from candles.The orange candle light quivered inside a half-collapsed brick building, casting a long, stretched shadow of a person against the wall.Damian raised his hand, signaling everyone to halt.“I’ll go in al
I shot up to my feet and yanked the door open.Damian stood outside, phone held to his ear, his face grim. “I just had someone look up your adoptive parents’ address, and we found out that a package was sent to them under your name this afternoon. I don’t know what’s inside, but I think you need to call them right away.”In a panic, I fumbled for my phone and dialed my mother, Helen Collins.Ring... Ring... Ring...No answer.I immediately dialed my father, Daniel Collins, next.Ring…ring…ring…Still no answer.My hands began to tremble so violently I could barely hold the phone.Damian reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm and steady—not overly heavy, yet enough to quell my trembling.“Don’t panic,” he said. “I’ve already sent a team driving to your parents’ house. They’ll be there within twenty minutes.”“If what he sent was…” I didn’t dare finish the thought.“Whatever it is,” Damian interrupted, locking eyes with me and speaking word by word,
“Damian, it doesn’t matter if your dad doesn’t want you anymore—I want you. When I grow up and make money in the future, I’ll give you five hundred dollars every single day.”So that promise... she had been the first to say it.I crouched down, burying my face into my knees, crying so hard I could barely catch my breath.Damian crouched down in front of me too. He didn’t touch me; he just squatted there quietly, guarding me just as he had when we were children.After crying for who knows how long, I raised my head, my throat so raspy I could barely utter a word.“Who is the person sending me these text messages?” I asked.Damian shook his head. “I don’t know. But ever since your very first day at the company, someone has been digging into you. I’ve been investigating this person’s identity for three months and only found one vague lead—they know everything about you with unsettling accuracy.”“Why are they targeting you?”“They aren’t targeting me,” Damian’s voice sank low. “Th
I instinctively took a step back. “What did you say? I remember what he looked like?”He nodded slowly. “After you were rescued, you told the police one thing: ‘I saw his face.’”Cold sweat instantly broke out across my back.I had no memory of it.I couldn’t remember a single detail, yet if I really had said those words, it meant the arsonist’s face remained sealed deep within my forgotten memories.And that person might still be alive.“So now you know,” Damian looked at me, a swirl of unreadable emotion filling his eyes. “Giving you five hundred dollars every single day isn’t just to keep my promise—it’s also my way of reminding myself that you’re alive, and that I owe you an explanation.”My lips parted, wanting to speak, when my phone suddenly vibrated with an incoming text. It was another message from that unknown number.This time, there was only a single sentence: “Don’t believe a single word he says. The person who set the fire eighteen years ago was a Beaumont.”I st







