CHAPTER 17: The Heiress Nobody Wanted

“Alexander left his entire empire to Isabella.”

Damien's words echoed in my head long after the call ended.

I sat motionless in Nadia's car, clutching the folder recovered from Saint Aurelia. The city lights blurred beyond the windshield, but I barely noticed them.

Isabella Cross.

My sister had apparently been born with a different name, hidden from the world, and written into a will that could strip Damien of everything he had built his life around.

And I had married him.

“Serena?” Nadia asked.

I looked at her.

“Are you going to tell me what Damien said?”

I handed her my phone. She listened to the saved recording of the call, then gave a low whistle.

“That's not a small family disagreement.”

“No.”

“Does Damien know about Isabella's letter?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

I looked down at the handwriting.

Don't go to the auction tomorrow. Damien isn't the only person who knows what happened to our father.

I couldn't decide whether the warning was meant to protect me or keep me away from something Isabella wanted for herself.

“Not until I understand what she meant.”

Nadia started the engine.

“Then we'd better work quickly. Because if somebody stole the will, they know exactly what they're looking for.”

“And they're willing to hurt anyone who gets in their way.”

“Which means we should probably stop standing in empty parking lots discussing it.”

Despite everything, I managed a small smile.

“Drive.”

---

When I returned to the Cross mansion, Damien was waiting in the entrance hall.

Two guards stood behind him. A third was speaking quietly into an earpiece.

Damien looked at me first, then at Nadia, then at the folder beneath my arm.

“Where have you been?”

“Saint Aurelia.”

His expression hardened.

“You went back there after I told you someone might be targeting you?”

“You told me to be careful. You didn't tell me I wasn't allowed to investigate.”

“Serena, someone broke into my safe while you were out.”

“And someone broke into the clinic archive while we were there.”

He stopped.

“You found something.”

I held the folder against my chest.

“Isabella's transfer records.”

His eyes fixed on it.

“Give them to me.”

“No.”

His jaw tightened.

“Those records could explain why my father changed his will.”

“They could also explain why my sister was hidden from me.”

“I'm not asking you to surrender them. I'm asking to examine them.”

“Then ask properly.”

For a moment, the guards seemed to forget how to breathe.

Damien looked as though he had never encountered anyone who could refuse him without trembling.

Then he exhaled.

“Please, Serena. Let me see the records.”

I handed him the folder.

He opened it and began reading. The more pages he turned, the more distant his expression became.

When he reached Isabella's handwritten note, his fingers stopped.

“Where did you find this?”

“In the archive.”

He read the note again.

“Don't go to the auction tomorrow,” he murmured.

“You know why she wrote that?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look frightened?”

He closed the folder.

“Because my father left me something else.”

I waited.

Damien glanced toward the guards.

“Leave us.”

They obeyed immediately. Nadia remained beside me, arms folded.

Damien looked at her.

“This concerns the Cross family.”

“And Serena is my friend,” Nadia replied. “I'm not leaving her alone with another secret.”

I nearly laughed.

Damien rubbed his forehead.

“Fine.”

He led us into his study and locked the door.

Then he opened the safe again.

From a hidden compartment beneath the shelves, he removed a small leather-bound book.

“I found this after the funeral,” he said. “It contains my father's private instructions. I never showed it to anyone because I couldn't determine whether the entries were genuine.”

He placed it on the desk.

The first several pages contained names, dates, and financial transactions. Some entries referred to businesses I recognized. Others were marked with symbols matching the crescent moon on Isabella's bracelet.

Damien turned to the final written page.

There, in Alexander's handwriting, was a sentence.

If Isabella returns, Damien must surrender the crown.

I stared at it.

“Crown?”

“The title my father used for the person who controlled the Cross organization.”

“So he wanted Isabella to take over.”

“Yes.”

“Then why did he raise you to lead it?”

Damien's expression became guarded.

“Because I was the son everyone believed he wanted.”

“And Isabella was the daughter everyone was supposed to forget?”

He didn't answer.

I turned another page.

A list of names had been written beneath the entry.

Richard Vale.

Adrian Cole.

Gabriel Shaw.

And one more name.

Lucian Moretti.

I looked up.

“Why is your rival listed here?”

“Because Lucian wasn't always my enemy.”

Damien took the book from me and turned to a page dated three years earlier.

“Before my father died, he arranged a meeting between the four of them. Richard, Adrian, Gabriel, and Lucian. The meeting was supposed to settle the dispute over the inheritance.”

“What happened?”

“My father died before it could be completed.”

“Or someone made sure he couldn't finish it.”

Damien's silence was answer enough.

I thought of the unknown messages, the altered records, and the men who had searched the clinic basement.

“Who knew about the will?”

“Richard. Adrian. Gabriel. Lucian.”

“And Isabella.”

“If she was the intended beneficiary, yes.”

I looked at the list again.

“Then one of these people knows where she is.”

“Possibly.”

“Or one of them is the reason she disappeared.”

Damien closed the book.

“There's another problem.”

“Of course there is.”

“The auction house has confirmed the event. But the person who submitted the register didn't use a real identity.”

“Can we find out who paid for the auction?”

“Gabriel is investigating.”

I remembered the first page Damien had burned.

“Is Gabriel trustworthy?”

Damien didn't answer immediately.

That was all the answer I needed.

---

At midnight, I found myself standing on the mansion's balcony, staring at the city.

I had once imagined marriage as something that happened between two people who chose each other. My marriage had begun with a contract, suspicion, and a husband who seemed to know more about my family than I did.

Yet I couldn't ignore the moments when Damien had stepped back instead of forcing his decision on me.

They didn't erase his lies.

But they complicated the hatred I wanted to feel.

The balcony door opened behind me.

“I thought you'd be asleep,” Damien said.

“I thought you'd be busy protecting your empire.”

He joined me at the railing, leaving enough distance between us that I didn't feel trapped.

“It's difficult to protect something when you don't know who owns it.”

I glanced at him.

“Are you afraid of losing everything?”

He considered the question.

“I was afraid of becoming my father.”

“And now?”

“Now I'm beginning to think I never understood him.”

The admission surprised me.

“Maybe none of us did.”

He looked at me.

“Serena, if Isabella is alive and the will is authentic, she has a claim to the empire. I won't pretend otherwise.”

“Would you give it to her?”

“If she wants it, and if the evidence proves it's hers.”

“Even if it destroys your power?”

“Yes.”

I studied his face.

“Why?”

“Because I have spent my entire life defending an inheritance I never questioned. If it was built on taking something from my sister, then I have no right to keep it.”

For the first time, I saw something beyond the ruthless man everyone feared.

I saw someone questioning the foundation of his entire life.

I didn't reach for his hand.

I wasn't ready to forgive him.

But I didn't walk away either.

Then my phone vibrated.

A message appeared from an unknown number.

Your husband is telling the truth about the will.

Another message followed.

But he hasn't told you why Isabella was declared dead.

I typed a reply.

Then tell me.

The response came almost immediately.

Because the person who ordered her death was the same person who saved her.

My blood ran cold.

I showed Damien the screen.

He read the message, and every trace of softness vanished from his face.

“Who sent that?” he asked.

“I don't know.”

He took out his phone and called his head of security.

“Trace the number. Now.”

I looked back at the message.

The person who ordered Isabella's death had also saved her.

That meant someone had wanted her gone, but not dead.

Someone had hidden her, altered her records, and arranged for her to survive.

And if the message was true, then Isabella's disappearance had not been a simple kidnapping.

It had been a carefully planned rescue.

---

The next morning, Gabriel arrived with news.

“The auction house has released the name of the registered bidder,” he announced.

Damien looked up from his desk.

“Who?”

Gabriel placed a document before him.

“Lucian Moretti.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Your rival?”

Gabriel nodded.

“He has purchased the right to examine the original register before the auction begins. He's also requested that Serena attend as a witness.”

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because the document identifies you as one of the children whose records were altered.”

Damien rose.

“She's not going anywhere near Lucian without protection.”

I crossed my arms.

“I'll decide whether I attend.”

He turned toward me.

“Serena, Lucian has spent years trying to weaken the Cross family.”

“And perhaps he knows something about Isabella that you don't.”

Gabriel cleared his throat.

“There is one more detail.”

He slid a photograph across the desk.

It showed Lucian Moretti standing outside a private building, his hand resting on the shoulder of a woman whose face was turned away from the camera.

Around her wrist was a silver bracelet.

The crescent moon charm was unmistakable.

Isabella's bracelet.

I picked up the photograph.

“When was this taken?”

“Three days ago,” Gabriel said.

I stared at the woman.

Isabella was alive.

And she was standing beside the man who wanted to take Damien's empire.

My phone vibrated again.

This time, the message contained no warning.

Only an address.

And seven words.

Come alone if you want your sister back.

I looked at Damien.

He was already watching me.

Neither of us spoke.

Because we both knew the choice before me was no longer about an inheritance.

It was about whether I could trust the sister who had disappeared, the husband who had lied, or the enemy who might be the only person who knew where Isabella was.

And tomorrow night, at the auction, I would have to choose.