A⁴ MANOR – ACE'S ROOM
The shrill ring of Ace's phone pierced the stillness of the night, pulling him out of his restless sleep. He groggily opened his eyes, the room cloaked in shadows, the digital clock blinking 3:00 AM in a dim red glow. With a grunt, he reached for his phone. His expression changed the moment he saw the caller ID.
Dad.
A tight frown formed on his lips as he pressed the answer button. His voice, hoarse and edged with fatigue, broke the silence.
"Hello?"
"Ace." His father's deep, grave voice thundered through the receiver. "Have you heard from Jade?"
Ace's fingers tightened around the phone. "No. Why?"
"I've been trying to reach her since yesterday morning. Her phone's off. I sent people to check on her, but all her bodyguards are dead. Slaughtered. And her location—her tracker—it's offline. Like she vanished off the face of the Earth. Why can't I find her?"
Silence followed.
Ace's breath caught in his throat.
Jade.
Although not his biological sister, she was the closest person to him in the world. She had been adopted into the family when they were kids. And despite the blood that didn't bind them, he had always protected her like she was his own flesh and blood. But now...
Now she was suffering for his actions.
A pang of guilt twisted in his chest.
His cold, sharp gaze swept across the room, eyes narrowed, calculating. He clenched his jaw and finally muttered, "I'll do something about it immediately."
He ended the call and let the phone slip from his fingers, landing softly on the duvet. Staring blankly at the white ceiling above, he exhaled a shaky breath.
How could a girl, just in her third year of medical school, be so cruel? So... ruthless?
But what haunted him the most was the look in her eyes when he had pulled off his mask during that last encounter—the look of betrayal, of disappointment, of realization. Why had she looked at him that way? Why did it feel like she already knew something she shouldn't?
But if he went to her now—begged for Jade's release—he would shatter the very persona he'd spent years crafting. His name, his mask, his identity... would all burn to ashes.
"Ahhh!!" he screamed internally, covering his face with both hands.
He was mentally exhausted.
And utterly powerless.
--
PRIVATE VILLA – SATURDAY MORNING
The sunlight filtered through the cream curtains, casting golden rays across the dining hall. The table was neatly set, and the aroma of warm croissants, eggs, and strong coffee filled the air.
Sergio, Leo, Liam, and Lilian sat at the long dining table, quietly having breakfast. The only missing presence was Lyric.
Lilian looked at the staircase, frowning slightly. "Should I call Lyric?" she asked, her voice uncertain.
"It's Saturday," Liam replied, sipping his orange juice. "She probably won't come downstairs. You know she doesn't have any classes or missions today."
Lilian chewed her bottom lip. "It's just... she's been distant lately."
Then, as if a switch flipped in her mind, she turned to Sergio. "Uncle Sergio, why did you send Lyric to jail three years ago?"
The question dropped like a bomb.
Sergio paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. A shadow crossed his face, memories surfacing like ghosts. He lowered the fork, placed it carefully on the plate, and straightened up.
"I'm done," he said quietly.
"But—"
"It wasn't because of you," he said firmly. "I just lost my appetite."
Without another word, he stood and walked toward the private elevator. Lilian looked down at her plate, biting her lip harder.
Ding.
The elevator doors opened. Sergio stepped in and pressed the button for the second floor.
The doors slid shut.
----
SERGIO'S ROOM
Sergio entered the room and closed the door behind him. The morning light spilled through the windows, but his mind was elsewhere—years away.
Sixteen years ago.
The Wiled Family.
They had all perished in a fire—or so everyone thought. But Sergio had his suspicions. It didn't feel like an accident. It felt... orchestrated.
Years later, after relentless investigation, he uncovered a sliver of truth: one child had survived.
Angel.
But she wasn't Angel anymore. She had changed her name. Hardened her heart. Transformed into someone the world feared and whispered about in fear. People called her cold. Heartless. Merciless.
But Sergio hadn't minded.
Not until three years ago.
---
THREE YEARS AGO – CLARK STREET, CHICAGO
The mahogany shelves of Sergio's study were lined with confidential files and expensive liquor. He sat behind his desk, reviewing a shipment document when Shawn Mendes, his personal assistant, entered with a file.
Sergio opened the file lazily, but his eyes widened as he read the contents.
Lyric.
Not just involved in the underworld—she ruled it.
At 18, she had already become a formidable figure:
The Capo di Tutti Capi of the Alaskan Mafia,
Dragon Queen of the Asian Syndicate,
Ruthless Widow of the European Black Market.
Her nickname in the underworld?
Death.
But there was a threat—Senator Whiney from Alaska had discovered her real identity and was preparing to expose her connection to the Wiled Family.
Sergio felt the walls close in.
He slammed the file shut and looked at Shawn. "Contact our men in Alaska. Have the Senator killed. Make it look like an accident. And... send Lyric to prison."
Shawn blinked in shock. "What? Why frame her? What if she uses her power against us?"
"She won't. Not if she thinks it's part of the enemy's retaliation," Sergio replied coldly. "And she must never find out it was us. If she does, she'll feel indebted—and I don't want that."
He looked out the window with regret. "If I hadn't gone to visit my son that night... maybe the Wiled Family would still be alive."
Shawn gave a slow nod. "Understood."
----
PRESENT
Sergio returned to the window now, the cigarette between his fingers burning slowly. The smoke curled around him like ghosts of the past.
Lyric had only stayed in prison for six months. Just long enough to convince everyone she couldn't possibly be connected to the Wiled legacy.
He had done it to save her.
But now...
Now she hated him.
He exhaled a deep breath and took another drag, his eyes empty.
He could handle her rage. He could handle her hatred.
But he wasn't sure he could survive her death.
She was used to seeing death.
He wasn't used to losing people who mattered.
Reaching for his phone, he dialed Shawn.
"How's business in Chicago?" he asked after a few rings.
Shawn gave a brief update—everything was stable, shipments were arriving as scheduled.
"Good," Sergio said. "Keep me posted. No surprises."
He ended the call, dropped the phone on the nearby table, and took one last puff from his cigarette.
The silence of the room pressed in on him like a weight.
Because deep inside... he knew.
The day Lyric finds out the truth—everything would change.
And this time, he might not be able to protect her.
Not from her enemies.
Not from herself.
And certainly... not from him.