Chapter Two

Valerie’s POV

The name on the card felt heavy in my hand, like a secret too dangerous to say out loud.

I remembered Roody Sergio saying that name once, months ago. He had been on the phone in his office, his face drained of color, his voice shaking. I had heard him say, “I can’t give the Vanes what they want.”

Back then, I thought it was just business. But now, standing in the rain at his funeral, I realized it had been a warning. My father had been afraid of them. But how could I know for sure that the name he spoke was the same one I now held?

Under the name Silas Vane, also printed in small gold letters, was an address: 100 Blackwood Heights. I stared at the card for a long time. Who was this man? Why had he looked at me as if I already belonged to him? My head was full of questions, but there were no answers.

Every instinct told me to rip the card into tiny pieces—to throw it into the mud and walk away. I wanted to scream at the sky and say no to his insane talk about marriage. But something colder, deeper, more frightening told me to keep it. With trembling fingers, I tucked the card into my silk bag.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand. I startled and almost dropped it. For a second, I hoped it was Mike—calling to apologize for leaving me alone, but It wasn’t Mike.

It was a message from my bank. I looked at the screen and nearly stopped breathing.

[URGENT: ALL ACCOUNTS FROZEN]

I blinked, convinced the rain was blurring my vision. My hands shaking, I logged into my personal savings account. Access Denied. I checked the account, were my father had saved for my twenty-fourth birthday. Access Denied.

Even my joint account with Mike was locked.

A notice flashed across the screen, stating that I required a Note of Clearance from an organization I had never heard of: ERS Holdings Group.

The world tilted. I was a Sergio. My family was supposed to be among the richest in the city. And yet, in a single moment, I had become penniless. I didn’t even have enough money to buy a bottle of water. Before I could process that, another message appeared.

It was from an unknown number. My heart slammed against my ribs, trapped like a bird in a cage.

[Your father was the first to fall. You are next. Run, little bird.]

A sharp gasp escaped me. I looked around the empty cemetery. The trees loomed like giant hands reaching for me. The shadows between the graves felt alive, watching.

My father hadn’t died in a robbery gone wrong. Someone had hunted him to death. And now, they were hunting me. I forgot about the frozen accounts. Fear swallowed everything else. I ran.

My heels splashed through the mud as I raced to my car. My hands fumbled with the door, my stomach twisting. When it finally opened, I jumped inside, locked the doors, and drove away, slamming my foot down on the gas pedal.

I headed straight for the Sergio estate. I needed the high walls. The security guards. I needed Mike. He had promised to meet me there. Surely he could fix this—he was a smart businessman. He would know what to do. But when I turned onto my street, my heart began to pound harder.

Two massive black SUVs were parked directly in front of my gate, blocking the entrance. They were sleek, dark, and intimidating. Three men in sharp black suits stood beside them, arms crossed. They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. They simply stared at my father’s penthouse as if it already belonged to them.

My thoughts spiraled. Were these the ones who sent the message? Were these my father’s killers?

I stopped the car several feet away. I waited for our security guards to emerge from their gatehouse—but the windows were dark, and the gates remained shut. My breathing turned shallow. I was the daughter of a king. But the kingdom was now hunted.

One of the men approached my car and tapped on the window. A large silver ring gleamed on his finger. He didn’t look like a thug—he looked like a lawyer, and that terrified me more.

I lowered the window just an inch. “Who are you?” My voice trembled. “Why are you blocking my home?”

“Ms. Valerie Sergio,” he said calmly. His voice was cold and precise. “I am Barrister Jaden. I represent ERS Holdings Group.” He gestured toward the iron gates. Heavy chains and red locks secured them.

“I’m here to inform you that this property, along with everything inside it, has been officially seized,” he said. “It no longer belongs to the Sergio family.”

“Seized?” The word tasted like ash, as my face reddened. “This is my home. My father’s property. All my belongings are in there!” I growled, banging my car steering.

Jaden didn’t react. Instead, he held up a thick leather folder with ERS stamped boldly on the front—the same name my bank had mentioned.

My head spun. It felt like the trap was closing. “Who are you people?” I demanded. “What is ERS?” My heart pounding.

He ignored the question and extended the folder. “Read.”

With shaking hands, I opened it.The papers inside felt like a death sentence. According to the documents, my father had signed over the entire estate to ERS Holdings as collateral for a loan. Fifty million dollars, and our family home had been used as security.

The terms were brutal. The deadline had passed. The house now belonged to them. But that wasn’t all.

The contract stated that even after the seizure, the full fifty million dollars was still owed—in cash. I wasn’t just losing my home, I was being hunted for money I didn’t have.

Jaden’s voice dropped even lower. “You have until twelve p.m. tomorrow to deliver the full amount. If you fail, the debt will be settled another way.”

I stared at him in horror. “This isn’t possible!” I screamed, throwing open my car door and stepping into the rain. Water soaked my hair, plastering it to my face as I shoved the folder against his chest. “My father would never do this! He was rich! You’re lying—you’re criminals! Where’s your proof?”

Jaden didn’t move. He simply waited for me to run out of breath. Then, slowly, he flipped to the final page, pointing to the bottom, and my knees nearly gave out.

There it was. My father’s signature. The familiar loops and lines I had seen on every birthday card he ever gave me. It was real.

I was now homeless and broke. My father hadn’t just been murdered—he had been stripped of everything and left me behind to pay for a debt that would cost me my life.