Chapter 5

DARIAN

I woke up to the sound of birds and static.

The bed beside me was empty, and still warm. Her scent lingered on the sheets, vanilla and citrus, soft and sharp all at once. My arm reached out instinctively, but I touched nothing but air.

Then the television buzzed to life. I had forgotten I’d set the news to autoplay.

I didn’t expect to hear my brother’s name.

“Breaking news out of Mexico this morning. Billionaire Roman Wolfe presumed dead after a yacht explosion. The luxury vessel, The Sovereign, went up in flames just hours ago…”

The remote slipped from my hand.

I sat up, the blanket tangled around my waist, my eyes locked on the screen. Flames roared behind the news anchor’s calm voice. Pieces of scorched gold and wood drifted in the ocean. Divers searched for remains and it didn’t feel real.

Roman. Dead.

The man who always played it safe, who always planned ahead. Who once told me, “Only fools die in luxury.”

I blinked hard, hoping the picture would change. That maybe I was still dreaming.

But it didn’t and Zaria wasn’t in the room.

I got up fast. My legs moved before my brain caught up. I checked the bathroom. The hallway. The kitchen. Nothing.

She was gone.

Her clothes. Her phone. Everything.

My heart pounded in a different rhythm now, not from fear, but from something worse, a feeling I didn’t want to name.

They say grief comes in stages. But for me, it came with sirens and screams.

The Wolfe estate turned into a funeral overnight. Everyone wore black, everyone spoke in low tones. But no one was mourning Roman.

They were hunting Zaria.

“She did it,” my stepmother hissed. “I always knew she was like her father. A snake.”

“She ran because she’s guilty,” a board member muttered.

“She was supposed to marry him in days,” another added. “Then he dies in international waters? That’s not a coincidence.”

My fists clenched.

“She was placed here. Like a sleeper agent, a plant from one of the rival houses. That’s how they got to Roman.”

There was a photo on one of the leaked news sites. Zaria in a dark coat, boarding a private car the morning after Roman’s death. Her face partially hidden, but her eyes downward.

The caption read: The bride who vanished.

My chest tightened.

They showed her records. Her father’s name, a man who sold government secrets. A political exile, a traitor, a thief and a disgrace.

“She may not have pulled the trigger,” our stepmother said venomously.

“But that blood runs in her veins.”

“She fooled all of us,” someone from logistics said. “I mean, she had us all charmed. Like a goddamn actress.”

“She was raised by a martyr,” another muttered. “But you can’t outrun your DNA.”

“And now she’s vanished,” board member Prescott added, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Gone with Roman’s drive, no less. She knew what was on it. She had access to everything.”

“Everything he worked for,” Lydia from legal whispered, visibly shaken.

“His research, the upcoming merger drafts, confidential tech specs. That drive was his life’s work. And she took it.”

I said nothing.

I sat at the head of the conference table, with my elbows on the polished wood, and eyes blank.

“Roman trusted her,” someone muttered.

“And he paid the price,” another snapped back.

Our stepmother stood, black veil covering half her face like she was born for tragedy. “He’s dead,” she said quietly. “And that little viper is gone. But this family won’t crumble. We survived worse and we’ll survive her.”

All eyes turned to me.

“Darian,” Prescott said, voice firm now. “You’re next in line.”

I looked up.

“We need a Wolfe at the helm. Roman’s gone. You’re all we have left.”

“And Zaria?” I asked finally, voice low, eyes narrowing. “What’s the official statement?”

“That she fled. With company assets. That she betrayed Roman and the family. Let the world believe what it already does.”

My jaw clenched.

“What about the drive?” I asked.

“There’s no way of recovering it right now. Unless you plan to go hunting.”

My silence answered them.

“Well then,” our stepmother said, stepping closer, “This empire needs a spine, not a ghost. You have to lead now. Not because you want to. But because you have no choice.”

She wasn’t here to defend herself.

So I became judge and jury.

The moment they showed me the last piece, the encrypted drive missing from Roman’s safe. I stopped doubting.

It all made sense.

She took the one thing that mattered most to him.

To all of us.

And then she disappeared.

“She knew what was on that drive,” Prescott said again. “We’ll have to operate without it. Use backup files where we can. But Roman’s original documents? Gone. We have to move forward regardless.”

The board members began murmuring in agreement.

I stared at the screen as her photo appeared one last time. She left me asleep while she made a call. She said, “It’s done”.

I wanted to believe she meant the affair, us, the risk.

But now, I wondered if she meant the plan. The betrayal, ending his life.

I stared at the glass of whiskey in my hand. My fingers trembled, and I hated it. I hated how part of me still wanted to believe in her.

But belief got people killed. Love got Roman killed.

I walked into his office that night. Everything was untouched. His chair still carried the shape of him. The file on his desk was marked with her name.

Zaria Mendez. Fiancée.

Her face stared back at me from a dozen surveillance stills. Her smile in one. Her glare in another. Her hand in mine, in a grainy photo from months ago.

Roman knew.

We weren’t careful enough, we thought secrets could stay buried.

Now they were turning into weapons.

I picked up her file and flipped through the pages. School transcripts. Bank statements. Travel history.

Nothing pointed to a murderer but everything pointed to someone smart enough to never leave proof.

The drive was gone. Roman’s personal yacht schedule had been accessed the day before the explosion. The security team said someone had overridden the alarm system remotely.

And I remembered her hands on my chest, saying, “Let’s not waste the moment.”

My gut twisted, maybe I was the moment. Maybe everything had been planned.

I wanted to scream, but I stayed still. Because fury like mine didn’t explode.

It simmered.

I set the file down and stood at the center of the room. Then I made a vow.

I would find her.

I would tear down every country, every city, every shadow until I did.

And when I found her… she’d pay.

She’d pay for Roman.

She’d pay for leaving me with lies.

She’d pay for pretending she loved me.

Even if it killed me, I’d make her hurt.

Just like she made me.