Chapter six

I couldn’t breathe.

The streetlight flickered above me, the photo trembling in my hands as if the night itself was mocking me. My father’s face stared back at me from that picture, standing right beside Zayden. They weren’t just two men caught in the same frame , they looked familiar with each other. Comfortable, even.

“What the hell…” I whispered. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I turned the photo over, hoping for something , a date, a clue, anything. There was a faint marking written in ink, half-faded. Oaxaca, 2015.

My mind went blank for a moment, then flooded with noise. Zayden wasn’t just some stranger. Somehow, he and my father had crossed paths before. But how? My father was a businessman, a man of power and control. Zayden was… chaos. A biker. A man who looked like he lived by his own rules. They couldn’t have anything in common.

Could they?

I stuffed the photo into my bag, my hands shaking, and climbed into the car. My reflection in the rearview mirror was pale, almost ghostly. I could hear Zayden’s voice replaying in my head “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Maybe he was right.

But that didn’t mean I was walking away. Not now. Not when everything suddenly felt connected.

I gripped the steering wheel and whispered, “What are you hiding, Dad?”

I didn’t sleep that night.

The photo lay on my nightstand, half-crumpled from how tightly I’d been holding it. My mind refused to stop racing. The more I thought about it, the clearer one thing became if Zayden and my father knew each other, then the line between them wasn’t as distant as I thought.

By morning, my head ached and my eyes burned, but I didn’t care. I needed answers.

I threw on a hoodie, pulled my hair into a messy bun, and went straight to my father’s study. He wasn’t home, which wasn’t unusual. Gregory Hart was always “busy” which really meant out controlling some part of the city or sealing a deal that made him richer and colder.

His study smelled like leather and secrets.

I went straight for the desk. He kept it locked, but I’d learned the trick years ago , a small pin at the hinge, a little pressure, and it clicked open. I rummaged through files, contracts, ledgers. All boring. All predictable. Until I found a brown folder tucked behind a stack of financial reports.

It wasn’t labeled.

I opened it slowly and froze.

Inside were several photos. Zayden. Younger, but unmistakable. In some, he was surrounded by men wearing biker vests. In others, he stood beside people who looked nothing like criminals ,men in suits. Including my father.

There was also a document ,something about a “distribution agreement” between Hart Holdings and Blackline Crew.

Blackline.

That name rang a bell. I’d heard it once ; whispered .When I was much younger. I’d asked Dad about it, but he’d said it was “old business.” I’d let it go. Until now.

The sound of the main door closing made me jump.

“Vivienne?” My father’s voice echoed from the hallway.

Panic surged. I quickly shoved the papers back into the folder, closed the drawer, and forced myself to breathe.

“Up here!” I called out, trying to sound casual.

He appeared in the doorway, sharp as ever in his dark suit, his eyes narrowing slightly when he saw me standing there. “You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, shrugging.

He studied me. His gaze was too sharp . Like he could see right through me. “You’ve been in here long?”

“No. Just came in.”

He walked past me, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and sat behind the desk. His every move was controlled, deliberate. The kind of man who never did anything by accident.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I hesitated. “Dad… did you ever do business with a man named Zayden Black?”

The name hung in the air like smoke.

He froze. Just for a second ;but I saw it. The slight twitch in his jaw, the way his hand paused midair before setting down the glass.

“Where did you hear that name?” he asked, his tone suddenly cold.

“I just heard it somewhere,” I lied quickly.

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “You’re lying.”

I looked away. “It’s not important.”

“Vivienne.” His voice sharpened, the way it always did when he wanted control. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it. Stay out of things you don’t understand.”

I met his eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

He sighed, standing up. “That’s all you’ll get. Now go get ready . we’re having dinner with the Langstons tonight. And I expect you to behave.”

He brushed past me, leaving the scent of cologne and power behind him. I stood frozen, heart pounding.

So he did know Zayden. He just didn’t want me to know how deep it went.

The Langstons’ mansion was everything I hated about my father’s world polished lies wrapped in expensive smiles. Derek wasn’t there, thankfully, but his father kept bragging about the merger like it was already sealed. I sat through dinner quietly, forcing a polite smile every time someone looked at me.

Evelyn texted me halfway through .

 Where are you?

Dinner with the devil, I replied.

She sent back a laughing emoji and then: Call me when you escape.

But escape wasn’t so easy when you were trapped in golden cages.

After dinner, I excused myself to the garden, needing air. The night breeze carried the faint scent of roses and rain, and for a moment, I just stood there, closing my eyes.

That’s when I heard it.

A low rumble of engines from beyond the gates.

At first, I thought I was imagining it but then I saw the faint glow of headlights cutting through the dark road. One bike. Then two. Then more.

The guards started murmuring, confused. I took a few steps forward, peering through the iron bars just as a figure removed his helmet.

Zayden.

My heart nearly stopped.

He was supposed to stay away. He told me to stay away. And yet, here he was at my father’s house.

One of the guards approached him, frowning. “This is private property”

Before he could finish, Zayden tossed something at him. A black envelope. “Give this to Gregory Hart,” he said, his voice calm but sharp. “Tell him it’s long overdue.”

Then he turned, mounted his bike again, and with a single roar, the entire crew vanished into the darkness.

I ran to the gate, watching until the sound faded completely. My hands were shaking again.

The guard picked up the envelope, confused. “Miss Hart, should I”

“I’ll take it,” I said quickly, grabbing it from him before he could question me.

Inside, a single piece of paper.

We need to talk. Before your father gets you killed.

Signed Z.

That night, I couldn’t stop pacing my room.

Every part of me screamed to ignore it, to stay out of whatever this was. But curiosity had long turned into something else obsession, maybe. Fear mixed with attraction. The need to understand.

I glanced at the photo again, lying next to the letter. My father’s face beside Zayden’s. Two worlds colliding in one frame.

I picked up my phone. Typed a message. Deleted it. Typed again.

Where do I find you?

I hit send before I could change my mind.

Seconds later, a reply.

Midnight. Old pier. Come alone.

The pier was almost deserted when I arrived. The waves crashed against the wooden pillars, and the air smelled like salt and secrets. I spotted him leaning against a rusted railing, his jacket gleaming faintly under the moonlight.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said without looking at me.

“Then why ask me to?”

He turned, eyes dark and unreadable. “Because you deserve the truth before it finds you first.”

“The truth about what?” I demanded.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Your father isn’t who you think he is, Vivienne. And if you stay close to him… you’ll end up like the rest.”

“The rest?”

His jaw clenched. “The ones he used. The ones he buried.”

My stomach turned cold. “You’re lying.”

He shook his head slowly. “You think I wanted to save you that night by accident? I knew who you were. I just didn’t expect to see you there.”

I stared at him, disbelief and fear warring inside me. “You’re saying my father”

“I’m saying,” he cut in, stepping close enough for his voice to drop to a whisper, “that the man you call father has blood on his hands. And you’re standing in the middle of a storm that’s about to break.”

The wind howled between us, the waves crashing harder.

I tried to speak, but the sound that came out was barely a breath. “What do you mean?”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out another folded photo. Pressed it into my hand. “Start with that.”

Before I could look, headlights flashed across the dock , sharp, sudden.

Zayden’s eyes widened. “Shit. They found us.”

“Who”

“Get down!”

He grabbed my arm, pulling me behind a crate just as gunfire shattered the silence.

The bullets tore through the air, splintering wood around us. My heart pounded in my throat as he shielded me with his body, his breath rough against my ear.

“Stay down,” he growled.

My fingers tightened around the photo in my hand. The one he’d just given me. I turned it slightly, just enough to see the faces.

My father. And Derek’s.

Together.