LOGINChristopher felt his leg turn into a log of wood. He wanted to run, to hide his shameful face from her? Why was this death so personal to him? He had killed the poor woman. Suddenly, her eyes met with his. He could see fire burning in them.
"You!" Rage overwhelmed her as she ran towards him. "You murderer. You killed her!" She threw herself at him, hitting him everywhere, "you killed her!" Christopher waved away the nurses that were about to pull her away from him. Phil saw the bitter look in his eyes and stepped forward to protect anyone from coming closer. "So what? Because we are poor? Our lives don't matter?" She pushed him, tugged at his shirt again so he would not run. She had to pour out her mind. "Only the rich lives matter? You disgust me!" Deep down, Anika was furious at her entire family. They abandoned her. They left her alone. If it were her, they would have left her to die too. "Everyone abandoned me." She was saying out loud. "My own foolish parents died. I should have died all these years ago too!" Christopher winced. That woman wasn't her mother? Still...she was dead. Because of him. "I should just die too. No one cares anymore. I knew that. I just kept pretending that..." She sniffed. Her whole body was shaking now. She was furious and less sad. She was exhausted. "I thought someday, I would be loved. But no. I should just die!" Then she ran off. Christopher did not need to tell Phil to go look after her before he did. The nurses were muttering from one corner. "She was so excited when she managed to get the money for the surgery." "Yea. She kept waiting for the doctor assigned to her. I didn't even know it was Doctor Shall." Christopher pretended not to have heard as he walked away. She had gathered the money? Even if she hadn't paid, he was ready to carry out the surgery. Why did she have to die? Phil ran back to meet him after what looked like hours. "I'm sorry. She's nowhere to be found." He said with regrets. Damn it! "We have to find her, Phil." His friend advanced towards him. "It wasn't your fault." But Christopher threw his hand away from his shoulders. "I need to have a word with the Chairman." Christopher said. Phil knew he had no shot at changing his mind. He knew of his friend's anger. All hell had been let loose now. Anika did not even know where she was. She just kept running until she ran out of breath. Her anxiety pills were still in her pocket. She brought it out and was about to use a pill when it dawned on her. "What's the point of trying to live? Huh?" She flung the container far away and crawled back into her corner. Hours passed when she finally crawled out. She checked her phone. A bitter smile appeared on her face. "No missed calls." Left for this unknown number that called her earlier. Of course there was nobody to care about her. To know what she was up to. To worry about her. Tears stained her eyes, making her vision to blur. The only person who ever loved her was dead. And she didn't even have money to bury the poor woman! It was dark now, with lights from cars and street lights brightening up the road. Even the night sky was cloudy like it was about to rain. The air felt thick. Not even the weather cared about her. "What's the point of anything?" She sighed heavily. Her chest hurt. Her throat was dry. Her stomach growled angrily like dragons were fighting inside her but she didn't feel hungry. Or even thirsty. What was the point of anything at all? The road ahead of her was busy. Cars raced on the street. Her steps were heavy and slow. But they were gradually leading to the main entrance. She heard someone shout, other than that, the only noise she could hear again was her chest beating so fast. She thought she heard someone shouting. Another step. And then another. In no time, she was facing the busy road. Just one more step, and that would be the end of everything. She would finally be able to rest. With an attempt to raise one leg up, a furious voice startled her. "Young mistress! Don't you remember me?" Young mistress? She turned to find a tall old man staring at her. He was very tall for his age because he looked at least 70 years old. But very fit. Even his voice was firm. A scowl was on his face, but it softly melted again. She was still shocked at who this man was when he held her hand tight and pulled her away from the road. "Do you not remember me?" He asked again. "Please let's go to the car. It's parked over there." Anika scoffed. "If you mean to kidnap me, you're not getting any ransom. I've got no one to care about me enough." But the man looked confused. "Please. Follow me to the car parked there. Or at least, let us step into this dinner." There was a dinner just beside them, he was pointing at it. Like she was in a spell, Anika found herself following behind. Was she dead already? Maybe she was, and this was some angel guiding her to the right path. Yea, that made more sense. "Young mistress—" He said as soon as they sat down. "Stop calling me that. Why are you even..." The man looked shattered. He didn't even know where to begin, but he swallowed and started talking anyway. "I don't know how to start but let me bring up the Golds first." The Golds? "My name is Carlos Shay, I used to be your butler years ago. After the terrible accident, everything changed. You just disappeared. I only found out later that the Golds took you with them, along with all the money and gold they could steal." "I don't mean to interrupt you but," she frowned, trying to process what he was saying. "The Golds? What are you..." "After your parents' unfortunate death, they took all your stuff." "They saved me. Took my stuff?" "They were ordinary maids but after your parents death, they stole everything of your properties they could lay their hands on and fled. They tried to kill me to silence me. I managed to survive their attack but it was too late. You were already gone. I tried finding you all these years." Maids? Anika bursted out in laughter. "The Golds are maids? Does that even make any sense to you?" "You should know, young mistress, that I have been searching for you for years. So I have proof. Enough of it. They thought they'd taken everything you and your parents owned. But what they stole was only just a percentage of your real wealth. I've been searching for you to reclaim your throne as the last heiress of the Delacroix."The morning light didn't crawl into the penthouse suite; it hit the floor-to-ceiling glass panes in a sudden, blinding flash of autumn gold that dissolved the remaining shadows against the dark cedar walls. The air inside the room was perfectly still, carrying nothing but the faint, rich scent of spilled bourbon and the deep, heavy quiet of a fortress that had finally run out of enemies to fight.I lay flat on my back against the oversized velvet mattress, the heavy cream-colored sheets tangled around my waist. My skin felt warm, completely relaxed for the first time in sixty-four straight days. There was no tightness across my ribs, and the sharp, clinical ache that usually sat behind my eyes before the morning market opening was entirely gone.Christopher lay directly beside me, his massive frame taking up more than his half of the bed. His chest rose and fell in a slow, deep rhythm, his long, dark hair messy against the white linen pillow. One of his heavy, warm arms was draped sec
The private express elevator didn't make a sound as it bypassed the lower office tiers, shooting straight past the forty-second floor archive lanes to slide into the penthouse dock with a soft, pressurized click. The heavy bronze-trimmed doors parted, letting in the cool, deep silence of the upper residence.Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling glass panes, Manhattan looked like an entirely different city—just a flat, silent grid of amber streetlights stretching out toward the black water of the harbor. The frantic flashbulbs of the St. Regis plaza and the sharp, echoing crack of the ballroom floor were completely locked out behind the steel partition walls.I stepped onto the polished travertine floor of the foyer, my heels clicking a slow, exhausted rhythm against the stone. My fingers went straight to the back of my neck, unhooking the heavy clasp of the diamond choker before tossing it carelessly onto the dark marble island. The charcoal silk of my evening gown dragged slightly ag
The gold-leaf trim of the grand ballroom at the St. Regis was blinding under the massive crystal chandeliers, casting thousands of tiny, sharp diamond reflections across the sea of black silk and high-trust smiles. Six months of absolute market dominance had passed since the final codes cleared the port zones in Rio.The Vanguard global stock was locked into an unyielding, overweight position on the New York exchange, and the financial elite of Manhattan were currently choking on the residual smoke of my victory.I stood near the marble pillars of the mezzanine, my hand resting flat against the polished balustrade. My tailored evening gown was charcoal silk, its long, unbroken lines cutting a perfectly royal posture against the room."The eastern infrastructure report just finalized, Ms. Vance," Tobey’s flat, robotic voice murmured from right behind my left shoulder.He didn't look like a man at an elite charity gala; his charcoal tuxedo was flawless, and his replacement glasses sat p
The glass lift doors of the luxury Ipanema penthouse slid open with a soft, pressurized click, completely cutting off the distant, heavy break of the Atlantic waves against the white sand below. The tropical morning sun didn't just rise; it flooded through the twenty-foot floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the white travertine tiles into sheets of reflective, liquid gold.I walked slowly toward the wide balcony rail, my tailored silk robe trailing against the cool stone. My hands were wrapped around a fresh cup of dark Brazilian coffee, the rich steam rising into the damp, warm air. For the first time in sixty-seven straight days, the skin across my ribs felt completely loose. There was no tightness in my throat. No clinical ache behind my eyes.On the long marble island behind me, the custom data terminal sat completely face-down, its screen perfectly dark, its internal battery saving mode silent.The sixty-seven-day ledger was balanced. The 1999 foundation note was dead data weight,
The wheels of the Gulfstream slammed onto the wet tarmac of Rio's Galeão airport with a violent, deafening roar, the heavy braking force throwing my shoulders hard against the leather harness. Outside the acrylic glass, the bright, oppressive humidity of the tropical dawn was choked by a thick wall of maritime fog rising off Guanabara Bay. Rain smeared the glass in long, heavy sheets, turning the distant yellow runway guides into blurry streaks of goldI didn't wait for the cabin air to clear. I stood up, my tailored charcoal wool skirt smooth, my posture a long, unbroken line of executive focus as the hatch clicked open with a heavy, pressurized hiss.Christopher was already clear of the steps, his towering frame an absolute iron shield cutting through the heavy, wet heat of the Brazilian air. He had his compact weapon drawn, his dark eyes scanning the dark tarmac lines as three black, armored utility vehicles skidded into a defensive horseshoe around the plane's aluminum ramp."Team
The steady, muffled roar of the Gulfstream’s twin turbines was the only sound inside the dimly lit cabin as we cleared the airspace over the Caribbean, carving a clean line south toward the Brazilian coast. Outside the thick acrylic glass, the world was a seamless, terrifying expanse of ink-black ocean, the distant stars completely blotted out by a massive equatorial cloud wall that turned the windows into dark mirrors.Inside, the cabin was a quiet, pressurized fortress washed in the deep amber glow of the bulkhead accent lights. The luxury of the Manhattan victory gala felt like a distant, shallow memory. The charcoal silk evening gown I had worn at the Plaza Hotel was gone, replaced by a fresh, tailored charcoal wool skirt and a crisp white silk blouse that felt cool against my skin.I sat back in the oversized captain’s chair, my hands flat against the polished walnut tray table. In the center of the wood, the custom data terminal lay wide open, its gold-rimmed display pulsing wit
Anika just stared at him as he explained, then, to back up all of his points, he paused, opened the black bag he'd been carrying, and brought out a neat brown envelope. She frowned but collected it from him to open it. This was his proof after all. NOTICE OF INHERITANCE. To Ms. Anika Delacroix
Anika quickly made payment for her medicine, and on her way out, threw two pills in her mouth. She was on her way to the hospital. Heaving in a deep sigh as she arrived at the entrance, she told herself to be strong. She would call Lark again and try to...try to what? Well! She would figure someth
Anika's chest was rising and falling from fear. Why did Tori have to see her? This was so humiliating!"Uh...Tori, I-" She tried to speak but the right words just wouldn't form. "How dare you! Thief!" Before Anika could say another word, Tori jumped up on her, pulling her hair so tight that strand
Immediately, everyone began to laugh out loud. Anika was too stunned to even understand the situation. How could she be this humiliated like this?Anna grabbed her purse, "I'm gonna head out. Bye, friend." Then ran away. They laughed and kept chatting as if Desiree had not just bullied her. Anika







