The hallway outside the powder room was lined with velvet-draped walls and chandeliers that cast golden shadows against the polished marble floors. The kind of place is designed for elegance and whispers not confrontations.Zogo leaned against the wall, half-shadowed beneath a crystal sconce. He looked like a man waiting for nothing, bored and distant, but every muscle in his body was alert. Watching. Calculating.His security was gone…dismissed quietly a few minutes ago under the guise of privacy. No one saw. No one noticed. Just as he intended.He’d learned long ago that silence was a weapon, and patience was its twin.Then… she stepped out.Amara Musk.Hair cascading down in lazy waves, heels clicking softly as she adjusted the strap like it was a nuisance, but Zogo could see the tremor in her fingers from across the corridor. Not fear. Not quite. It was something heavier like a secret trying to claw its way out of her chest.She held a peppermint in her hand. Useless. A stall tact
Amara barely noticed the lavish party noise when she slipped past the velvet curtains, her pace slow, measured. She was halfway down the corridor when Cristy found her, panting softly, holding a garment bag in one hand and a pair of heels in the other.“They are so mean,”Cristy muttered through gritted teeth as she caught up.“I swear I’m going to push Ayah into the chocolate fountain if she pulls one more stunt like that.”Amara’s dress was clinging awkwardly to her skin…. Ayah had made sure of that. A full glass of red wine had been “accidentally” tipped down the front of her pale ivory gown just moments ago, and everyone had watched in frozen silence. Not one person intervened. Not one hand reached to help her. Not even a whisper of sympathy echoed from the crowd.Only stares. Pity. Amusement.And Ayah, standing with mock horror on her face, pretending it was all an accident. Pretending to care.Cristy opened the nearest guest room and ushered Amara inside, locking the door behind
The Page Estate shimmered like a dream that had too much money to spend.Golden rays of sunbathed the mansion's ivory pillars and spilled into the garden below, where City T's elite sipped champagne beneath a canopy of twinkling fairy lights and imported roses. Crystal chandeliers hung even in the outdoor tents, as if God himself might pass by and judge the décor.It was that kind of party.And then came Amara Musk.She stepped out of a sleek black car, the kind that purred instead of roared, with tinted windows like secrets. Her dress navy satin with delicate pearl buttons hugged her softly, chosen by Cristy to scream refined elegance. Her hair was pinned in soft waves, framing her face like she belonged on a royal postage stamp.For two whole seconds, she looked every bit the hidden heiress she was supposed to be.Then...."OH MY GOSH!" she gasped, spinning in the driveway like a toddler seeing Disneyland for the first time."Is that a real peacock by the fountain?! Cristy, may I ri
Musk Estate Amara’s Private Wing at 12:47 A.M.The room was still.Outside, the world slept under a velvet night sky, stars glittering like silent witnesses to secrets too old to name. But inside the farthest wing of the Musk estate past the long-gilded hallways and behind the heavy carved doors Amara was wide awake.She sat cross-legged on her bed, her back resting against a mountain of down pillows, wrapped in a loose dark gray robe that hung off one shoulder. A glow bathed her face from the sleek, glowing surface of her improvised laptop. It looked like nothing on the market.... smaller, sleeker, customized beyond belief. Her fingers moved fluidly across the touch sensitive hologram keys, her nails tapping in rhythmic precision.Across the screen, a live recording replayed for the fourth time that hour."To whoever can cure my mother... a reward of ten million pesos, no questions asked. I don't care if you're licensed or not. I don't care if you've disappeared off the grid. If you
The jet wheels kissed the runway of City T just as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in molten gold and rust. The skyline rose like sharpened blades against the heavens, and the city pulsed with its usual rhythm cars honking, neon flashing, people moving with purpose.But inside Zogo Walton's chest, a storm had already begun.He sat in silence in the backseat of a black bulletproof car, fingers clenched on his lap, his custom-tailored suit still immaculate despite the long-haul flight. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, didn't leave the window as the vehicle glided through the streets of the city, he'd once called home.Now it felt like a battlefield.The car stopped directly in front of Walton Global, the towering headquarters of his global conglomerate. As he stepped out, the doors of the executive elevator opened automatically, and the world seemed to fall away with each floor he ascended. The hum of the building faded. Only his own heartbeat kept time.The top floor o
Amara's POVThe plane touched down with a soft thud after four hours in the air. The city lights beyond the window shimmered like a bed of stars laid flat across concrete. Familiar... but distant.I moved through the airport process like a ghost.... passport check, customs, baggage. Everything blurred into soft noise and sterile lighting. When I finally stepped into the departure area, the cool night air kissed my skin, and there it was.A sleek black car parked exactly where I expected it.And beside it....Aston.My grandfather's most trusted butler."Miss," Aston greeted me, bowing respectfully. "Welcome back."I didn't answer. Just slipped past him and into the backseat.He didn't mind. Aston never expected pleasantries. He started the car without another word, the soft purr of the engine barely registering in my ears.The city rushed by in streaks of light. Buildings taller than memory, roads busier than I recalled. Some sights triggered a tug in my chest and alleyway I used to pa