Chapter 1 Wake Up to a New World
Icy water drenched Stella Carter, shocking her awake. She shook her aching head, and as her vision cleared, a deep frown settled on her face.
"She's awake, boss," a male voice said.
Stella glanced around the derelict warehouse, finding herself surrounded by a group of muscular thugs, their eyes cold and dangerous.
"Just bad luck," the boss said. "Once we get the money, we'll take care of you both." He then walked out with his crew to smoke and play cards outside.
Hearing that, Stella turned and met the wide, frightened eyes of a little boy tied up next to her.
The boy was small and pale, maybe four or five years old. A cloth gag filled his mouth, and tears welled up under his long lashes, falling in heavy drops as he stared at her helplessly.
Stella took a long, steadying breath.
Even for someone sharp like her, waking up in a new life to this was beyond belief. She was kidnapped, and to make it worse, she had no memory left.
Stella searched within herself, but her past was a blank slate. She knew her name. She knew she was clever and strong. But that was all.
There was a soft pop-pop as Stella dislocated her wrist and slipped her hand free of the ropes.
The boy next to her paled, forgetting to cry as he watched her reset the joint with another quick, precise twist.
Without a word, Stella reached over and untied him.
Her gaze shifted to the steel pipe the kidnappers had tossed in the corner. A sudden coldness filled the air around her, dropping the temperature in the warehouse with it.
A deep, restless anger tightened in her chest. She needed to move, to let it out.
"At least there's one good thing," she murmured to herself, striding over to lift the steel pipe before turning toward the door.
*****
Far away, on Sandridge Island, the sky hung low and gray.
A hall stood crowded with people, every gaze nervously fixed on the young man seated alone on a leather sofa. He was Sebastian Gray, and no one dared look away.
He wore a simple black shirt, open at the collar. A cigarette glowed between his fingers, its smoke softening the lines of his face.
A string of black prayer beads hung from his wrist.
In front of Sebastian, a man was pinned to the floor.
"Who told you to do this?" Sebastian asked, his voice cool and even.
At his feet, a massive white python slid in slow, silent curves across the floor, its tongue flicking out. The scene was cold and unnatural, a mirror to Sebastian himself.
While he spoke, the python moved onto the sofa and rested its broad head on his thigh.
The man on the floor seemed to collapse in on himself, too terrified to speak a word.
Sebastian's expression didn't change as he slid the beads from his wrist. The simple action sent a chill through the room, and no one dared to make a sound.
He reached down to stroke the python's head, totally unaware of the suffocating weight of his presence.
"Are you hungry?" Sebastian asked, his voice quiet.
The moment he finished speaking, two men stepped forward and hauled the prisoner away.
"Mercy, Mr. Gray. Just one chance..." the voice pleaded desperately, trailing off until nothing remained but silence.
"Mr. Gray, we've got a location," said a bodyguard in black as he stepped quietly to Sebastian's side.
Sebastian's only nephew was missing, and this was the kind of trouble that could turn the world upside down.
When Sebastian looked up, a cold, sharp fear shot through the bodyguard, freezing him where he stood.
"We'll be there in thirty minutes," Sebastian said coldly.
*****
In the old warehouse, the brief but brutal fight was just over.
Stella sat in the only undamaged chair, working the stiffness from her neck with a blank expression. The steel pipe in her hand scraped slowly across the concrete floor, the sound grating and sharp.
She was quiet, her eyes fixed on some distant point.
The once-bold kidnappers now were sprawled on the floor with their hands up, their faces bruised and tear-streaked. They flinched visibly each time the pipe scraped against the ground.
They never thought she'd be this tough. Now they just felt stupid.
Stella sat where the light barely reached, which only made her seem more formidable.
Suddenly, a quiet shuffling sound came from behind her.
It would stop, then start again, full of hesitation.
Then she felt a small, hesitant pull on her sleeve.
Stella went still and looked down to meet the boy's eyes.
He gave her a shy, hopeful smile. With his eyes still red from crying and his long lashes, he looked utterly precious. Sensing his own charm, he leaned his cheek softly into her palm.
"What's your name?" Stella asked, gently pinching his nose.
He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled again, took her hand, and began to write letters carefully on her palm.
"Lucas Gray?" she read his name, realizing he couldn't speak.
When he heard his name, Lucas's face brightened. He quickly held out a tiny phone to her.
He had somehow kept it hidden all along.
The moment Stella took it, the phone rang, the screen flashing "Gray." Without thinking, she pressed it to her ear.
"Had enough fun?" came the low, smooth voice from the other end.
Stella's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Mr. Gray," she said, clearing her throat. "Your kid is with me."
There was only silence from the other side.
Stella, lost in the call, took no notice of the men sprawled on the floor ahead of her. They were staring past her now, their faces ghostly white.
"Is that so?" The words were quiet, but the air in the room grew heavy and still.
"Of course..." Stella began to reply into the phone. Then she paused when she realized that the voice hadn't come from the receiver. It had come from directly behind her.
She turned, and her eyes met a cold, steady gaze.
Stella had to admit, Sebastian was the most striking man she had ever seen.
He stood backlit, a cold outline against the light. Men in dark suits flanked him, but he alone seemed carved from ice, distant and utterly untouchable.
As he lifted his hand, she noticed the black prayer beads around his wrist.
A piercing headache tore through Stella's mind, shattering her focus.
"John," Sebastian said, his voice a cold whisper.
Before Stella could react, a shadow moved behind her. A sharp strike landed on her neck, and she fell, darkness swallowing her whole.
*****
The next morning, Stella stirred in her sleep, feeling something cool and smooth slide against her leg.
A soft, threatening hiss sounded in the quiet room.
She reached out sleepily to push it away, but the moment her fingers touched its skin, her eyes shot open.
She froze as her vision cleared. In the soft morning light, she was staring directly into the black gaze of a huge white python lying right next to her on the bed. It flicked its tongue with a quiet hiss.
"You're awake," Sebastian said.
Chapter 2 A Pet Python
Stella turned toward the sound.
Sebastian sat in the morning light, wearing only a black robe tied loosely at the waist. He was holding a cup of coffee, his long legs stretched out as he read a file open on his lap.
A strand of dark beads hung from his wrist. They swayed gently, giving him a quiet stillness that felt ancient and unreadable.
Stella took him in, and for a moment, she just stared. Then she snapped back to herself, the defiance returning to her eyes as she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth.
"You..." she began.
He looked up then, and their eyes met. That was all it took. The memory of what happened right before she was knocked out rushed back to her in a single, vivid wave.
The large python shifted slowly on the bed, its size making its movements look heavy and almost harmless.
"Snowball," Sebastian said, his voice low and cold.
Stella stared. To her, a man who kept a pet python and gave it a cute name like Snowball was clearly out of the ordinary.
At Sebastian's call, the python slid down from the bed. It wound its way around his legs, coiled onto the sofa behind him, and settled its large head on his shoulder with a soft nudge.
"You're Lucas's father?" Stella asked.
Stella knew she had to explain. She wasn't the kidnapper, but a victim herself.
Sebastian stroked the python's head, his gaze locked on Stella's face as she spoke.
His expression was cool and unreadable, and the casual way he handled the massive python sent a shiver through her.
The folder on Sebastian's lap slipped to the floor, its contents spilling out. Photographs scattered across the tiles, and Stella's words died in her throat.
Every single picture was of her, from childhood through adolescence to recent months. It was a complete dossier on her life.
He had known she was innocent this whole time. Yet he'd sat there silently, letting her talk, when he'd had the truth in his lap all along.
It hit her then that he was testing her. His calculation ran deeper than she had imagined.
"Is this really fun for you, Mr. Gray?" Stella squinted, her slender frame slouched lazily against the headboard.
Sebastian didn't answer. He merely gestured toward the other side of the room.
Stella glanced toward where he pointed and met her own eyes in the mirror.
Her face was a mess of thick, smudged smoky makeup, her ears cluttered with several skull-shaped clips. It was pure punk overload.
She stared at the reflection, her fingers tracing the line of her brow. The cheap makeup was caked on thick, but beneath it all, the elegant lines of her face were still there. It gave her a look that was naturally cool and reserved.
"Mr. Gray..." She threw off the covers, stood up barefoot, and moved with a swagger. "I'm getting this off."
*****
In the bathroom, Stella cleared the fog from the mirror. Her flawless skin was flushed and dewy from the shower, giving her a fresh, delicate beauty.
Her face was bare, without a trace of makeup. In the stillness, her captivating eyes blinked slowly, their gaze catching the light with a faint, honeyed warmth.
She seemed calm, but there was a cool distance in her expression that kept people away.
A small mole rested on her collarbone.
Her hair, freshly dried, fell in soft, shiny waves all the way down her back.
Yet Stella's mind was empty. She knew her name, but nothing else about who she was.
After she got dressed and walked out, both Sebastian and the large white python were gone.
Only a mess of photos and files remained, scattered across the floor.
"Stella Carter... eighteen," she murmured to herself, her slender fingers turning the pages as she scanned the file's sparse lines.
The records stated she was a former student of Central High School, expelled just last week for failing grades and excessive absences. She had a reputation as a rebel, and her home life was reportedly strained.
It also revealed that her younger sister, Hazel Carter, attended Edenbury Academy, the city's most elite and costly private school.
Stella turned the page, and a chill settled in her eyes as she read that she was not the Carters' real daughter.
The Carters had known the truth all along, which was why they had always treated the two sisters so differently.
What made no sense was the money. The Carters were not wealthy, yet they managed to pay for Edenbury Academy's enormous fees year after year, a sum that ran into the millions.
She was still turning this over in her mind when a rapid, anxious knock came at her bedroom door.
"Ms. Carter!" came the tense voice of Jake Yates, Sebastian's other subordinate, as he pounded hard on the wood.
He started to speak again as the door suddenly opened from the inside.
His raised fist almost struck her, but Stella moved swiftly out of the way.
He froze, his words dying on his lips as he got a clear look at her face.
He stared, hardly believing this was the same girl Sebastian had brought home yesterday, the one with messy, smudged makeup. Now, she looked clear and quietly beautiful.
"So you're sending me away," Stella said, her voice steady and without much emotion.
Lucas was safe now. Even if Sebastian had said nothing, she would have been ready to go.
"Ms. Carter, please follow me," Jake said, shaking his head as he remembered his actual task.
The memory of Lucas's demolished room was enough to make his blood run cold.
He would gladly trade a month in combat for a single day of babysitting duty.
"Has something happened to him?" Stella asked, a sudden fear gripping her as she followed Jake to the elevator.
Lucas's room was on the third floor. When the elevator doors opened, a vase shot past them and exploded against the wall. The floor was a sea of wreckage, with no clear path through.
Stella stared, utterly speechless.
"He did this alone?" Stella asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. The devastation was absolute.
Jake could only give a stiff, helpless nod.
Stella turned and entered the room. The scene grew more chaotic with every step.
The servants stood quietly nearby, their silence a clear sign they had seen this all before.
"Bring in a fresh set for him to break," Sebastian ordered. His tone was icy and held no mercy for the five-year-old boy, cutting with a ruthless edge.
Soon, a servant was replacing the broken items on the shelves with new ones, each piece a costly antique.
Lucas grunted angrily, swinging his small fists to warn anyone who tried to come close.
The white python, Snowball, coiled protectively around Lucas, letting the boy rest against his scales.
Seeing Lucas on the verge of total exhaustion, Stella turned a cold glare toward Sebastian. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded.
Stella's expression tightened as Lucas started to move, her eyes flashing with immediate concern.
He was barefoot on a floor littered with glass. One wrong step could cut him.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming to you," she said firmly.
As Stella approached, Lucas's face lit up for a moment before his eyes glistened with tears.
His chin trembled as he reached his small hands out to her.
Chapter 3 Paid to Stay
Silent sobs shook Lucas's little frame, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. His need for comfort was clear.
"Do not pick him up," Sebastian ordered, his icy voice cutting through the room and deepening the tension.
Stella acted as if she hadn't heard him. She leaned down, shielding Lucas's ears with her hands, and whispered softly to him, "Ignore that weirdo."
Jake was trying to ease his way out of the room when his brother John shot him a look that could freeze fire. He stopped moving at once, his face settling into a resigned frown.
He was trapped. When forces like these clashed, the bystanders never fared well.
"Stella," Sebastian said, a slow and dangerous smile crossing his face. He had never met anyone brave enough to defy him so openly.
"You're not a young man, Mr. Gray. Why bother fighting with a child?" Stella's voice was laced with clear sarcasm.
She easily lifted Lucas into her arms and held him close, all while giving Sebastian a sharp, challenging look.
Sebastian's expression turned cold, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, unyielding intensity.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone watching held their breath, sharing the same silent thought that Stella was either fearless or foolish.
A long moment passed before Sebastian finally moved, just a slight shift of his fingers. It was enough. The tension broke, and everyone around them let out a slow, collective breath. The sudden shift in tension felt utterly surreal.
Servants rushed forward, quietly clearing the wreckage from the floor before slipping out again.
With Lucas in her arms, Stella turned to leave.
As Stella turned to leave, John blocked her path at the door. "You have not been dismissed by Mr. Gray, Ms. Carter," he stated flatly.
Stella recognized him immediately as the man who had knocked her unconscious in the warehouse. She regarded him with a thoughtful look.
Lucas huffed and tried to bite at John's hand, but Stella gently caught his chin and held his mouth closed.
Lucas blinked, and then tilted his head to the side, looking suddenly as soft and harmless as a baby bird.
"Alright. I'm not going," Stella replied calmly. She carried Lucas back into the room and took a seat directly facing Sebastian.
As she sat, a quiet realization stopped her. Sebastian was in a wheelchair, a detail she had missed until now. This didn't fit, since she clearly remembered him standing in that warehouse.
She wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her.
"You've never asked my name," Sebastian said, his voice low. His eyes, steady and inscrutable, stayed fixed on Stella.
His face revealed nothing, his sharp, handsome features a mask of cool control. He held himself with the calm authority of someone accustomed to being in charge.
Jake's eyes lit up at the comment. He instinctively glanced toward John with an openly curious look.
John answered with another sharp look, a clear command for his brother to stop.
"Does it matter?" Stella said without thinking, her face showing her genuine confusion.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
A moment later, sensing her own bluntness, she added with a casual shrug, "I'm leaving soon anyway. Does it even matter what your name is, Mr. Gray?"
The air in the room seemed to grow even heavier.
Jake hunched his shoulders slightly, watching Stella. In his eyes, her manner was straightforward to the point of being almost tactless.
Sebastian's voice was quiet. "I didn't give you permission to go."
He watched her with a look that felt too deep, too knowing. His hand moved slowly over the python's head as it lay across his lap, the gesture steady and unnervingly patient.
Stella's face showed nothing, but she was listening, weighing each word.
Then a contract was set down in front of her.
"Stay and look after him," he said. "The offer is thirty million dollars." He said it plainly, as if naming a price for an ordinary service.
Stella remained silent, though her lashes lowered for a beat.
Sebastian didn't press her. He simply twisted the python's tail in his fingers, his attention drifting back to her delicate face now and then. Something shifted behind his calm expression, a quiet intensity she couldn't read.
Lucas tilted his head back, blinking his wide, bright eyes up at Stella. He nuzzled his soft, curly hair against her hand in a little plea for affection.
A wave of regret washed over him for his earlier outburst, and he worried that he might have scared her.
He wondered if she thought he was a bad kid now.
"All of your needs will be taken care of," Sebastian stated. "Your only job is to stay here with him."
Noticing Lucas's genuine unhappiness, Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Snowball slipped swiftly from Sebastian's lap and retreated to a corner, coiling itself into a tight, defensive loop.
"John..." Jake leaned in close to John, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me, after watching a ton of dramas, I can already see it.
"Ms. Carter is gonna shove that contract right in Mr. Gray's face, yell 'You think money can buy me?', and run out crying."
John ignored him completely.
As Sebastian's most trusted man, John knew his duty. If Sebastian wanted her to stay, John would make it happen by any means necessary.
"You..." Stella looked up, her voice quiet but steady. Her expression was impossible to read.
Jake nudged John, his eyes bright with expectation.
Sebastian's presence was cold and absolute. Even seated in the wheelchair, he was no less intimidating.
"You have to give me a pen," she said simply. A signature required a pen, and there was none.
Everyone looked at the empty space on the table beside the contract. There was no pen.
Sebastian turned his head toward Jake, who had brought the papers. His handsome face showed no feeling, his gaze as flat and dismissive as if Jake were furniture.
A silent cry for help flashed in Jake's mind as he braced himself for the consequences.
A pen was quickly brought forward. Stella took it, letting it roll once through her fingers in a smooth, practiced motion before holding it still.
She looked directly at Sebastian and said, "Mr. Gray, let me ask you one last question...
"Are you really willing to pay thirty million to keep me here with Lucas, even if I might cause trouble for you later?"
It was a choice she was leaving in his hands.
Even without her memories, something deep inside assured her that she always kept her promises.
Payment meant responsibility.
Sebastian's reply was immediate and straightforward. In one smooth motion, he slid a black bank card across the table toward her. It was an unlimited account, loaded with thirty million dollars.
"The pin is six zeroes," he said, his voice calm and steady.
A small smile touched Stella's lips, and her eyes seemed to brighten. "I have one more condition, though."
"Name it," Sebastian replied. His handsome face remained completely impassive, even as she raised the stakes.
"My condition is admission to Edenbury Academy," Stella said. That elite academy was her price, and she would not be refused.
"Deal," Sebastian replied, sounding like he'd been waiting for her to ask.
His swift agreement settled it. Stella took the pen and signed. "A deal, then."
From that moment on, she saw him as her sponsor.
"Mr. Gray," John's voice cut in, sharp with urgency. "Your grandmother is in the hospital."
The atmosphere in the room turned.
Chapter 4 Go to the Hospital
A cold stillness fell, radiating from Sebastian until the very air felt brittle.
"Go on," Sebastian said, the words a low command.
"Someone told your grandmother about the kidnapping. She collapsed on the spot, her heart giving out from the shock. They've taken her to the hospital," John replied.
His eyes flicked toward Sebastian before he spoke again, his voice lowered, "It doesn't look good."
As she processed the information, Stella felt Lucas grow tense and fearful in her arms. He was whimpering softly against her.
A suffocating tension filled the room, pressing down on everyone until it was almost unbearable.
Just as the silence became too much to endure, Sebastian finally gave the order. "Have the car brought around. We're going to the hospital."
Stella had hoped to stay behind, but Sebastian glanced at her and shattered that hope. "You're going with Lucas."
She accepted it quietly, reasoning that the person who paid was the one who made the rules.
*****
A black Maybach glided smoothly along the highway. Its custom interior was quiet and comfortable.
Stella watched the world pass by outside her window. Had she not just been there, she never would have believed they had come from a private island.
The fact that Sebastian owned an entire island made her wonder just who he really was.
But she had no time to dwell on it. The moment Sebastian settled into the car, she could tell something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
His gaze was heavy and shadowed. The chronic pain in his head, worn thin from years of sleepless nights, was sharpening into something violent.
A dangerous stillness had entered his eyes, and even Lucas had sensed the tension.
"Your pills, Mr. Gray," Jake said quickly from the front seat, turning to pass a small bottle back.
Before he could deliver it, the car hit a rut. The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, stopping near Stella's foot.
She looked down at the bottle, noticing that the label was in a foreign language.
She recognized the class of medication. It was for the mind.
"Could you get that, Ms. Carter?" Jake mouthed, his expression pleading as he pressed his hands together in a silent appeal.
Stella picked it up and held it out to Sebastian. "Here."
In the next instant, Sebastian's hand closed firmly around hers, trapping both her fingers and the bottle in his grip.
Stella looked down at their linked hands but said nothing.
A moment later, Sebastian released her hand and took the medicine bottle without even glancing her way.
Then he rolled down the window and tossed the bottle out.
'He is not right in the head,' Stella thought to herself.
"Drive faster," Sebastian ordered. He leaned back heavily into the leather seat and closed his eyes, his brows pulled together tightly.
"Yes, sir," John answered from the front.
*****
Half an hour earlier, the emergency wing of the private hospital had been sealed off by a cordon of armed guards. No one was getting through.
The news had leaked, and reporters were already gathered outside, their camera flashes lighting up the scene.
"We pay your wages," a shrill voice declared. "How dare you keep the family matriarch from entering?"
Linda Gray held the arm of an elderly woman in a tailored dress, her own posture full of disdain. With a dismissive sway of her hips, she tried to push past the guards.
The woman she was pulling along was Sophia Chapman. Her silver hair was swept into a soft bun, and her simple white dress carried a calm grace that made Linda's tense urgency seem all the more jarring.
They were halted just steps from the door.
"Do you not see who is here?" Linda said, her voice sharp.
Before Linda could utter another word, the air behind them turned cold and dense with warning.
The fight went out of her at once. She turned to find herself locked in a stare that felt fatal.
The wheelchair did nothing to lessen the effect.
"S-Sebastian," she managed, her voice a thin whisper. "You're here."
Sebastian sat still, a dark blanket covering his lap. His face was too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were deep and bruised.
"What did you call me?" Sebastian asked, turning his gaze toward Linda.
The look was so sharp that it made her legs go weak.
Stella watched the reporters from behind Sebastian's wheelchair. Now she understood why he had arranged for Lucas to be taken straight inside.
"Bring them all over here," Sebastian ordered in a flat, calm voice, but Stella could feel something cold and dangerous lying just beneath his quiet surface.
The reporters were quickly ushered toward him.
It had been years since the incident, and though Sebastian had kept out of sight since then, his reputation had never faded.
"Don't worry, Mr. Gray. Every photo will be destroyed," one reporter said quickly, his voice shaking.
They stood there trembling, knowing their jobs weren't worth their lives.
Sebastian stayed quiet, his long fingers slowly spinning the dark beads around his wrist.
The soft clack of the beads was steady, a measured sound. It was the rhythm of Sebastian keeping a darker impulse in check.
Stella's gaze settled on the beads, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.
Then the room filled with a shared, silent gasp.
Her hand, cool and delicate, came to rest over his, stilling the beads beneath her touch.
Standing behind Linda, Sophia watched it all unfold, her sharp eyes taking careful note.
The tension around Sebastian dissolved as quickly as it had gathered.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Let go." It was not the violent reaction everyone had feared.
"Oh, okay," she said and withdrew her hand without pause.
"There is only one matriarch in this family," Sebastian said, his voice low but carrying clearly. "Let that be clear in your accounts."
Jake, a wall of muscle, crushed the reporters' cameras under his boot, making Sebastian's point for him.
The reporters scrambled away without a second thought for their ruined gear. They were simply grateful to escape with their lives.
Linda gritted her teeth as she watched them go, furious but silent. She knew better than to cause a scene.
After all, money meant nothing if she wasn't alive to spend it.
"Sebastian," said Sophia, her voice gentle. Her posture was still elegant, a quiet reminder of the beauty she once was.
"Excuse us," Stella said, not letting her finish. She pushed the wheelchair forward and nearly ran over Linda's foot.
"Watch where you're going!" Linda shrieked, jumping back. The limited-edition Louis Vuitton heels she wore had just arrived that morning, and damaging them would cost far more than she could ever pay back.
Stella stopped and looked at her. The gaze was cool, the kind that seemed to leave no room for lies.
"Very touching. You wore your best shoes to visit the sick," Stella observed, her tone dry and unimpressed.
Linda's face colored with shame. She turned helplessly to Sophia.
"Sophia..." she said, her voice tight.
"Aren't you a bit old to be calling for your elder?" Stella asked, the remark perfectly aimed.
She then gave the wheelchair a gentle push and moved past them without another glance.
*****
Sebastian watched the numbers climb in the quiet elevator. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low. "You had no right to speak for me."
Stella leaned down, her hands coming to rest on the arms of his chair. "A 'thank you' would be more appropriate," she said, meeting his cold stare without flinching.
He was close enough now that she could see the surprising length of his lashes, dark against his skin.
Jake tried his best to disappear into the corner.
Finally, the elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.
Chapter 5 I Can Help Her
Without a word to Sebastian, Stella stepped out of the elevator first, her hands behind her back.
"M-Mr. Gray..." Jake said quietly.
The thought that Stella might have just flirted with him flashed through Jake's mind.
Sebastian's cold glance was enough to silence Jake and send a chill down his back.
*****
Outside the VIP suite, a doctor spoke to Carlos Gray, Sebastian's grandfather, "I'm sorry. We tried everything, but Annette was brought to us too late and has suffered brain damage.
"The medical team agrees that if she doesn't regain consciousness by tonight, we will have to announce brain death."
The doctor was Emily Chase, a longtime family friend of the Grays and one of the country's most accomplished young surgeons.
She removed her mask and let out a tired sigh.
Carlos's cane clattered to the floor. He staggered back, the world swimming before his eyes.
The hall was loud with the cries of the Gray family relatives. Some of the grief looked real, some did not.
"Lucas is a Jinx," Lauren Gray's voice carried over the noise. "Every disaster in this house starts with him."
She pressed a handkerchief that smelled of onion to her eyes, summoning a convincing veil of tears. Through them, she managed to catch her brother Richard Gray's gaze where he stood near Carlos.
After the scandal years ago, their mother, Sophia, had brought them to claim their place as Carlos's children. It was only his wife Annette's fierce opposition that had kept them from being formally recognized all this time.
Now, they saw their chance.
"Dad," Lauren said, her eyes glistening as she looked at Carlos. "You must remove Lucas from the family. Before he brings ruin to us all."
"Is that so?" The quiet question dropped into the room like ice, stopping all sound.
Sebastian's wheelchair rolled forward from the dim edge of the hall. Every face in the family went pale, and the air filled with the sound of stunned breath catching in throats.
"Sebastian," Carlos began, rising quickly to his feet. But the words died in his throat as he met Sebastian's cold stare.
The wheelchair stopped in front of Lauren.
"Look at me," Sebastian said, his voice cold and dangerous. "And say that again."
Lauren was so terrified that her knees buckled. She fell hard to the floor before him, her face damp with cold sweat.
"Who else would like to suggest removing Lucas from the family?" he asked the room.
Sebastian began to turn the black prayer beads around his wrist, his eyes moving slowly across the silent crowd. No one dared meet his gaze.
It was common knowledge that Sebastian only removed those beads when he intended to draw blood.
Just as Sebastian was about to remove his prayer beads, a moment that promised violence, Emily's sharp scream came from Annette's private ward. "What are you doing?"
He went still. Every head turned toward the room.
Its door was now open.
Emily called out clearly from inside, "Carlos, I saw her. She had a needle. She was going to put it in Annette's head."
Within, Stella stood with her wrist caught in Emily's grasp, a silver needle still visible in her hand.
Lucas clung to Emily's coat, his small face distressed.
Carlos's anger found a new target. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is this?"
John, pushing Sebastian's wheelchair, saw Stella and frowned. He was certain she was causing trouble.
Stella's gaze shifted to Sebastian. Her expression smoothed into perfect calm. "Mr. Gray," she said, her voice so steady that it sounded almost detached.
Emily suddenly cried out in pain when Lucas bit her wrist. She let go of Stella immediately.
"You want her to wake up, don't you?" Stella said, pausing briefly. "I can do it."
The room erupted into whispers.
"Are you a doctor?" Emily asked coldly, still cradling her injured wrist.
"No," Stella replied flatly.
"Do you have a license to practice?" Emily pressed.
"No," Stella repeated the word.
Each answer made Emily more scornful. To her, Stella was nothing more than a delusional girl looking for attention.
"Who trained you, then?" Emily asked, her tone thick with sarcasm.
"I just learned," Stella replied, totally unfazed.
Emily didn't hide her contempt this time. She laughed outright. "You really have no idea what you're saying."
Emily found the claim absurd. 'If she's going to make up a story, she might as well have claimed to be a medical genius,' she scoffed to herself.
"Enough," John said quietly, his patience gone. "This isn't a game, Ms. Carter."
He knew better than anyone what Annette meant to Sebastian. To treat her life as a trivial matter was beyond understanding.
"It's not a game," Stella said, her voice low and steady. For the first time, a hard certainty filled her eyes.
She didn't know how she knew, but when she saw Annette, the knowledge came to her with quiet certainty. She could picture exactly where to place the needles, how deep, and at what angle.
"I can help her," Stella said, her gaze locked with Sebastian's. His face gave nothing away, a storm held in check.
"Take her," Carlos ordered, his voice thick with a rage that promised violence.
Before anyone could touch Stella, Lucas stepped in front of Stella, his small body tense and a silent warning growling in his throat.
Sebastian didn't shift. He only raised his eyes to the men advancing on Stella, and the room went still with sudden threat.
"I mean it, Sebastian," Stella said, her words spoken with quiet force.
Stella knew what Annette meant to Lucas and Sebastian. She wasn't one to make promises lightly, but here, she had no proof to offer.
"That's enough," Emily cut in, her voice tight. "Just who do you think you are? A handful of needles? You might as well say you can wake her up right now."
The audacity almost made Emily laugh. 'Does she think she's Shark?' she thought bitterly.
Shark was a freelance surgeon, a medical genius with no ties to any hospital. She was the only doctor in the world with a certified perfect record, and stories claimed her silver needles could work miracles.
She was famously difficult and charged impossible prices, and no one even knew what she looked like. Yet the world's most powerful people still begged for her help.
"You know the cost of failure," Sebastian said, his eyes steady and cold, the air growing heavy as he spoke.
"Mr. Gray!" Emily stared at him in disbelief.
Even Carlos looked shocked.
In the corner, Richard and Lauren exchanged a look of quiet victory.
If Annette died by Stella's hand, their mother's position would be secured, and the family fortune would shift in their direction.
"Mr. Gray, please reconsider it," John said, his voice urgent.
He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Annette's fate in the hands of someone so inexperienced.
Stella looked back at Sebastian, a faint, sure smile on her face. She pulled her hair up into a loose knot with a shark-topped hair tie, and then carefully sterilized the needle.
Her hands moved with a quiet competence that looked strange on someone so young.
John's heart hammered in his chest. "Mr. Gray," he said, his voice strained.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Stella carefully inserted a silver needle into Annette's scalp.
Chapter 1 Wake Up to a New World
Icy water drenched Stella Carter, shocking her awake. She shook her aching head, and as her vision cleared, a deep frown settled on her face.
"She's awake, boss," a male voice said.
Stella glanced around the derelict warehouse, finding herself surrounded by a group of muscular thugs, their eyes cold and dangerous.
"Just bad luck," the boss said. "Once we get the money, we'll take care of you both." He then walked out with his crew to smoke and play cards outside.
Hearing that, Stella turned and met the wide, frightened eyes of a little boy tied up next to her.
The boy was small and pale, maybe four or five years old. A cloth gag filled his mouth, and tears welled up under his long lashes, falling in heavy drops as he stared at her helplessly.
Stella took a long, steadying breath.
Even for someone sharp like her, waking up in a new life to this was beyond belief. She was kidnapped, and to make it worse, she had no memory left.
Stella searched within herself, but her past was a blank slate. She knew her name. She knew she was clever and strong. But that was all.
There was a soft pop-pop as Stella dislocated her wrist and slipped her hand free of the ropes.
The boy next to her paled, forgetting to cry as he watched her reset the joint with another quick, precise twist.
Without a word, Stella reached over and untied him.
Her gaze shifted to the steel pipe the kidnappers had tossed in the corner. A sudden coldness filled the air around her, dropping the temperature in the warehouse with it.
A deep, restless anger tightened in her chest. She needed to move, to let it out.
"At least there's one good thing," she murmured to herself, striding over to lift the steel pipe before turning toward the door.
*****
Far away, on Sandridge Island, the sky hung low and gray.
A hall stood crowded with people, every gaze nervously fixed on the young man seated alone on a leather sofa. He was Sebastian Gray, and no one dared look away.
He wore a simple black shirt, open at the collar. A cigarette glowed between his fingers, its smoke softening the lines of his face.
A string of black prayer beads hung from his wrist.
In front of Sebastian, a man was pinned to the floor.
"Who told you to do this?" Sebastian asked, his voice cool and even.
At his feet, a massive white python slid in slow, silent curves across the floor, its tongue flicking out. The scene was cold and unnatural, a mirror to Sebastian himself.
While he spoke, the python moved onto the sofa and rested its broad head on his thigh.
The man on the floor seemed to collapse in on himself, too terrified to speak a word.
Sebastian's expression didn't change as he slid the beads from his wrist. The simple action sent a chill through the room, and no one dared to make a sound.
He reached down to stroke the python's head, totally unaware of the suffocating weight of his presence.
"Are you hungry?" Sebastian asked, his voice quiet.
The moment he finished speaking, two men stepped forward and hauled the prisoner away.
"Mercy, Mr. Gray. Just one chance..." the voice pleaded desperately, trailing off until nothing remained but silence.
"Mr. Gray, we've got a location," said a bodyguard in black as he stepped quietly to Sebastian's side.
Sebastian's only nephew was missing, and this was the kind of trouble that could turn the world upside down.
When Sebastian looked up, a cold, sharp fear shot through the bodyguard, freezing him where he stood.
"We'll be there in thirty minutes," Sebastian said coldly.
*****
In the old warehouse, the brief but brutal fight was just over.
Stella sat in the only undamaged chair, working the stiffness from her neck with a blank expression. The steel pipe in her hand scraped slowly across the concrete floor, the sound grating and sharp.
She was quiet, her eyes fixed on some distant point.
The once-bold kidnappers now were sprawled on the floor with their hands up, their faces bruised and tear-streaked. They flinched visibly each time the pipe scraped against the ground.
They never thought she'd be this tough. Now they just felt stupid.
Stella sat where the light barely reached, which only made her seem more formidable.
Suddenly, a quiet shuffling sound came from behind her.
It would stop, then start again, full of hesitation.
Then she felt a small, hesitant pull on her sleeve.
Stella went still and looked down to meet the boy's eyes.
He gave her a shy, hopeful smile. With his eyes still red from crying and his long lashes, he looked utterly precious. Sensing his own charm, he leaned his cheek softly into her palm.
"What's your name?" Stella asked, gently pinching his nose.
He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled again, took her hand, and began to write letters carefully on her palm.
"Lucas Gray?" she read his name, realizing he couldn't speak.
When he heard his name, Lucas's face brightened. He quickly held out a tiny phone to her.
He had somehow kept it hidden all along.
The moment Stella took it, the phone rang, the screen flashing "Gray." Without thinking, she pressed it to her ear.
"Had enough fun?" came the low, smooth voice from the other end.
Stella's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Mr. Gray," she said, clearing her throat. "Your kid is with me."
There was only silence from the other side.
Stella, lost in the call, took no notice of the men sprawled on the floor ahead of her. They were staring past her now, their faces ghostly white.
"Is that so?" The words were quiet, but the air in the room grew heavy and still.
"Of course..." Stella began to reply into the phone. Then she paused when she realized that the voice hadn't come from the receiver. It had come from directly behind her.
She turned, and her eyes met a cold, steady gaze.
Stella had to admit, Sebastian was the most striking man she had ever seen.
He stood backlit, a cold outline against the light. Men in dark suits flanked him, but he alone seemed carved from ice, distant and utterly untouchable.
As he lifted his hand, she noticed the black prayer beads around his wrist.
A piercing headache tore through Stella's mind, shattering her focus.
"John," Sebastian said, his voice a cold whisper.
Before Stella could react, a shadow moved behind her. A sharp strike landed on her neck, and she fell, darkness swallowing her whole.
*****
The next morning, Stella stirred in her sleep, feeling something cool and smooth slide against her leg.
A soft, threatening hiss sounded in the quiet room.
She reached out sleepily to push it away, but the moment her fingers touched its skin, her eyes shot open.
She froze as her vision cleared. In the soft morning light, she was staring directly into the black gaze of a huge white python lying right next to her on the bed. It flicked its tongue with a quiet hiss.
"You're awake," Sebastian said.
Chapter 2 A Pet Python
Stella turned toward the sound.
Sebastian sat in the morning light, wearing only a black robe tied loosely at the waist. He was holding a cup of coffee, his long legs stretched out as he read a file open on his lap.
A strand of dark beads hung from his wrist. They swayed gently, giving him a quiet stillness that felt ancient and unreadable.
Stella took him in, and for a moment, she just stared. Then she snapped back to herself, the defiance returning to her eyes as she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth.
"You..." she began.
He looked up then, and their eyes met. That was all it took. The memory of what happened right before she was knocked out rushed back to her in a single, vivid wave.
The large python shifted slowly on the bed, its size making its movements look heavy and almost harmless.
"Snowball," Sebastian said, his voice low and cold.
Stella stared. To her, a man who kept a pet python and gave it a cute name like Snowball was clearly out of the ordinary.
At Sebastian's call, the python slid down from the bed. It wound its way around his legs, coiled onto the sofa behind him, and settled its large head on his shoulder with a soft nudge.
"You're Lucas's father?" Stella asked.
Stella knew she had to explain. She wasn't the kidnapper, but a victim herself.
Sebastian stroked the python's head, his gaze locked on Stella's face as she spoke.
His expression was cool and unreadable, and the casual way he handled the massive python sent a shiver through her.
The folder on Sebastian's lap slipped to the floor, its contents spilling out. Photographs scattered across the tiles, and Stella's words died in her throat.
Every single picture was of her, from childhood through adolescence to recent months. It was a complete dossier on her life.
He had known she was innocent this whole time. Yet he'd sat there silently, letting her talk, when he'd had the truth in his lap all along.
It hit her then that he was testing her. His calculation ran deeper than she had imagined.
"Is this really fun for you, Mr. Gray?" Stella squinted, her slender frame slouched lazily against the headboard.
Sebastian didn't answer. He merely gestured toward the other side of the room.
Stella glanced toward where he pointed and met her own eyes in the mirror.
Her face was a mess of thick, smudged smoky makeup, her ears cluttered with several skull-shaped clips. It was pure punk overload.
She stared at the reflection, her fingers tracing the line of her brow. The cheap makeup was caked on thick, but beneath it all, the elegant lines of her face were still there. It gave her a look that was naturally cool and reserved.
"Mr. Gray..." She threw off the covers, stood up barefoot, and moved with a swagger. "I'm getting this off."
*****
In the bathroom, Stella cleared the fog from the mirror. Her flawless skin was flushed and dewy from the shower, giving her a fresh, delicate beauty.
Her face was bare, without a trace of makeup. In the stillness, her captivating eyes blinked slowly, their gaze catching the light with a faint, honeyed warmth.
She seemed calm, but there was a cool distance in her expression that kept people away.
A small mole rested on her collarbone.
Her hair, freshly dried, fell in soft, shiny waves all the way down her back.
Yet Stella's mind was empty. She knew her name, but nothing else about who she was.
After she got dressed and walked out, both Sebastian and the large white python were gone.
Only a mess of photos and files remained, scattered across the floor.
"Stella Carter... eighteen," she murmured to herself, her slender fingers turning the pages as she scanned the file's sparse lines.
The records stated she was a former student of Central High School, expelled just last week for failing grades and excessive absences. She had a reputation as a rebel, and her home life was reportedly strained.
It also revealed that her younger sister, Hazel Carter, attended Edenbury Academy, the city's most elite and costly private school.
Stella turned the page, and a chill settled in her eyes as she read that she was not the Carters' real daughter.
The Carters had known the truth all along, which was why they had always treated the two sisters so differently.
What made no sense was the money. The Carters were not wealthy, yet they managed to pay for Edenbury Academy's enormous fees year after year, a sum that ran into the millions.
She was still turning this over in her mind when a rapid, anxious knock came at her bedroom door.
"Ms. Carter!" came the tense voice of Jake Yates, Sebastian's other subordinate, as he pounded hard on the wood.
He started to speak again as the door suddenly opened from the inside.
His raised fist almost struck her, but Stella moved swiftly out of the way.
He froze, his words dying on his lips as he got a clear look at her face.
He stared, hardly believing this was the same girl Sebastian had brought home yesterday, the one with messy, smudged makeup. Now, she looked clear and quietly beautiful.
"So you're sending me away," Stella said, her voice steady and without much emotion.
Lucas was safe now. Even if Sebastian had said nothing, she would have been ready to go.
"Ms. Carter, please follow me," Jake said, shaking his head as he remembered his actual task.
The memory of Lucas's demolished room was enough to make his blood run cold.
He would gladly trade a month in combat for a single day of babysitting duty.
"Has something happened to him?" Stella asked, a sudden fear gripping her as she followed Jake to the elevator.
Lucas's room was on the third floor. When the elevator doors opened, a vase shot past them and exploded against the wall. The floor was a sea of wreckage, with no clear path through.
Stella stared, utterly speechless.
"He did this alone?" Stella asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. The devastation was absolute.
Jake could only give a stiff, helpless nod.
Stella turned and entered the room. The scene grew more chaotic with every step.
The servants stood quietly nearby, their silence a clear sign they had seen this all before.
"Bring in a fresh set for him to break," Sebastian ordered. His tone was icy and held no mercy for the five-year-old boy, cutting with a ruthless edge.
Soon, a servant was replacing the broken items on the shelves with new ones, each piece a costly antique.
Lucas grunted angrily, swinging his small fists to warn anyone who tried to come close.
The white python, Snowball, coiled protectively around Lucas, letting the boy rest against his scales.
Seeing Lucas on the verge of total exhaustion, Stella turned a cold glare toward Sebastian. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded.
Stella's expression tightened as Lucas started to move, her eyes flashing with immediate concern.
He was barefoot on a floor littered with glass. One wrong step could cut him.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming to you," she said firmly.
As Stella approached, Lucas's face lit up for a moment before his eyes glistened with tears.
His chin trembled as he reached his small hands out to her.
Chapter 3 Paid to Stay
Silent sobs shook Lucas's little frame, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. His need for comfort was clear.
"Do not pick him up," Sebastian ordered, his icy voice cutting through the room and deepening the tension.
Stella acted as if she hadn't heard him. She leaned down, shielding Lucas's ears with her hands, and whispered softly to him, "Ignore that weirdo."
Jake was trying to ease his way out of the room when his brother John shot him a look that could freeze fire. He stopped moving at once, his face settling into a resigned frown.
He was trapped. When forces like these clashed, the bystanders never fared well.
"Stella," Sebastian said, a slow and dangerous smile crossing his face. He had never met anyone brave enough to defy him so openly.
"You're not a young man, Mr. Gray. Why bother fighting with a child?" Stella's voice was laced with clear sarcasm.
She easily lifted Lucas into her arms and held him close, all while giving Sebastian a sharp, challenging look.
Sebastian's expression turned cold, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, unyielding intensity.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone watching held their breath, sharing the same silent thought that Stella was either fearless or foolish.
A long moment passed before Sebastian finally moved, just a slight shift of his fingers. It was enough. The tension broke, and everyone around them let out a slow, collective breath. The sudden shift in tension felt utterly surreal.
Servants rushed forward, quietly clearing the wreckage from the floor before slipping out again.
With Lucas in her arms, Stella turned to leave.
As Stella turned to leave, John blocked her path at the door. "You have not been dismissed by Mr. Gray, Ms. Carter," he stated flatly.
Stella recognized him immediately as the man who had knocked her unconscious in the warehouse. She regarded him with a thoughtful look.
Lucas huffed and tried to bite at John's hand, but Stella gently caught his chin and held his mouth closed.
Lucas blinked, and then tilted his head to the side, looking suddenly as soft and harmless as a baby bird.
"Alright. I'm not going," Stella replied calmly. She carried Lucas back into the room and took a seat directly facing Sebastian.
As she sat, a quiet realization stopped her. Sebastian was in a wheelchair, a detail she had missed until now. This didn't fit, since she clearly remembered him standing in that warehouse.
She wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her.
"You've never asked my name," Sebastian said, his voice low. His eyes, steady and inscrutable, stayed fixed on Stella.
His face revealed nothing, his sharp, handsome features a mask of cool control. He held himself with the calm authority of someone accustomed to being in charge.
Jake's eyes lit up at the comment. He instinctively glanced toward John with an openly curious look.
John answered with another sharp look, a clear command for his brother to stop.
"Does it matter?" Stella said without thinking, her face showing her genuine confusion.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
A moment later, sensing her own bluntness, she added with a casual shrug, "I'm leaving soon anyway. Does it even matter what your name is, Mr. Gray?"
The air in the room seemed to grow even heavier.
Jake hunched his shoulders slightly, watching Stella. In his eyes, her manner was straightforward to the point of being almost tactless.
Sebastian's voice was quiet. "I didn't give you permission to go."
He watched her with a look that felt too deep, too knowing. His hand moved slowly over the python's head as it lay across his lap, the gesture steady and unnervingly patient.
Stella's face showed nothing, but she was listening, weighing each word.
Then a contract was set down in front of her.
"Stay and look after him," he said. "The offer is thirty million dollars." He said it plainly, as if naming a price for an ordinary service.
Stella remained silent, though her lashes lowered for a beat.
Sebastian didn't press her. He simply twisted the python's tail in his fingers, his attention drifting back to her delicate face now and then. Something shifted behind his calm expression, a quiet intensity she couldn't read.
Lucas tilted his head back, blinking his wide, bright eyes up at Stella. He nuzzled his soft, curly hair against her hand in a little plea for affection.
A wave of regret washed over him for his earlier outburst, and he worried that he might have scared her.
He wondered if she thought he was a bad kid now.
"All of your needs will be taken care of," Sebastian stated. "Your only job is to stay here with him."
Noticing Lucas's genuine unhappiness, Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Snowball slipped swiftly from Sebastian's lap and retreated to a corner, coiling itself into a tight, defensive loop.
"John..." Jake leaned in close to John, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me, after watching a ton of dramas, I can already see it.
"Ms. Carter is gonna shove that contract right in Mr. Gray's face, yell 'You think money can buy me?', and run out crying."
John ignored him completely.
As Sebastian's most trusted man, John knew his duty. If Sebastian wanted her to stay, John would make it happen by any means necessary.
"You..." Stella looked up, her voice quiet but steady. Her expression was impossible to read.
Jake nudged John, his eyes bright with expectation.
Sebastian's presence was cold and absolute. Even seated in the wheelchair, he was no less intimidating.
"You have to give me a pen," she said simply. A signature required a pen, and there was none.
Everyone looked at the empty space on the table beside the contract. There was no pen.
Sebastian turned his head toward Jake, who had brought the papers. His handsome face showed no feeling, his gaze as flat and dismissive as if Jake were furniture.
A silent cry for help flashed in Jake's mind as he braced himself for the consequences.
A pen was quickly brought forward. Stella took it, letting it roll once through her fingers in a smooth, practiced motion before holding it still.
She looked directly at Sebastian and said, "Mr. Gray, let me ask you one last question...
"Are you really willing to pay thirty million to keep me here with Lucas, even if I might cause trouble for you later?"
It was a choice she was leaving in his hands.
Even without her memories, something deep inside assured her that she always kept her promises.
Payment meant responsibility.
Sebastian's reply was immediate and straightforward. In one smooth motion, he slid a black bank card across the table toward her. It was an unlimited account, loaded with thirty million dollars.
"The pin is six zeroes," he said, his voice calm and steady.
A small smile touched Stella's lips, and her eyes seemed to brighten. "I have one more condition, though."
"Name it," Sebastian replied. His handsome face remained completely impassive, even as she raised the stakes.
"My condition is admission to Edenbury Academy," Stella said. That elite academy was her price, and she would not be refused.
"Deal," Sebastian replied, sounding like he'd been waiting for her to ask.
His swift agreement settled it. Stella took the pen and signed. "A deal, then."
From that moment on, she saw him as her sponsor.
"Mr. Gray," John's voice cut in, sharp with urgency. "Your grandmother is in the hospital."
The atmosphere in the room turned.
Chapter 4 Go to the Hospital
A cold stillness fell, radiating from Sebastian until the very air felt brittle.
"Go on," Sebastian said, the words a low command.
"Someone told your grandmother about the kidnapping. She collapsed on the spot, her heart giving out from the shock. They've taken her to the hospital," John replied.
His eyes flicked toward Sebastian before he spoke again, his voice lowered, "It doesn't look good."
As she processed the information, Stella felt Lucas grow tense and fearful in her arms. He was whimpering softly against her.
A suffocating tension filled the room, pressing down on everyone until it was almost unbearable.
Just as the silence became too much to endure, Sebastian finally gave the order. "Have the car brought around. We're going to the hospital."
Stella had hoped to stay behind, but Sebastian glanced at her and shattered that hope. "You're going with Lucas."
She accepted it quietly, reasoning that the person who paid was the one who made the rules.
*****
A black Maybach glided smoothly along the highway. Its custom interior was quiet and comfortable.
Stella watched the world pass by outside her window. Had she not just been there, she never would have believed they had come from a private island.
The fact that Sebastian owned an entire island made her wonder just who he really was.
But she had no time to dwell on it. The moment Sebastian settled into the car, she could tell something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
His gaze was heavy and shadowed. The chronic pain in his head, worn thin from years of sleepless nights, was sharpening into something violent.
A dangerous stillness had entered his eyes, and even Lucas had sensed the tension.
"Your pills, Mr. Gray," Jake said quickly from the front seat, turning to pass a small bottle back.
Before he could deliver it, the car hit a rut. The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, stopping near Stella's foot.
She looked down at the bottle, noticing that the label was in a foreign language.
She recognized the class of medication. It was for the mind.
"Could you get that, Ms. Carter?" Jake mouthed, his expression pleading as he pressed his hands together in a silent appeal.
Stella picked it up and held it out to Sebastian. "Here."
In the next instant, Sebastian's hand closed firmly around hers, trapping both her fingers and the bottle in his grip.
Stella looked down at their linked hands but said nothing.
A moment later, Sebastian released her hand and took the medicine bottle without even glancing her way.
Then he rolled down the window and tossed the bottle out.
'He is not right in the head,' Stella thought to herself.
"Drive faster," Sebastian ordered. He leaned back heavily into the leather seat and closed his eyes, his brows pulled together tightly.
"Yes, sir," John answered from the front.
*****
Half an hour earlier, the emergency wing of the private hospital had been sealed off by a cordon of armed guards. No one was getting through.
The news had leaked, and reporters were already gathered outside, their camera flashes lighting up the scene.
"We pay your wages," a shrill voice declared. "How dare you keep the family matriarch from entering?"
Linda Gray held the arm of an elderly woman in a tailored dress, her own posture full of disdain. With a dismissive sway of her hips, she tried to push past the guards.
The woman she was pulling along was Sophia Chapman. Her silver hair was swept into a soft bun, and her simple white dress carried a calm grace that made Linda's tense urgency seem all the more jarring.
They were halted just steps from the door.
"Do you not see who is here?" Linda said, her voice sharp.
Before Linda could utter another word, the air behind them turned cold and dense with warning.
The fight went out of her at once. She turned to find herself locked in a stare that felt fatal.
The wheelchair did nothing to lessen the effect.
"S-Sebastian," she managed, her voice a thin whisper. "You're here."
Sebastian sat still, a dark blanket covering his lap. His face was too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were deep and bruised.
"What did you call me?" Sebastian asked, turning his gaze toward Linda.
The look was so sharp that it made her legs go weak.
Stella watched the reporters from behind Sebastian's wheelchair. Now she understood why he had arranged for Lucas to be taken straight inside.
"Bring them all over here," Sebastian ordered in a flat, calm voice, but Stella could feel something cold and dangerous lying just beneath his quiet surface.
The reporters were quickly ushered toward him.
It had been years since the incident, and though Sebastian had kept out of sight since then, his reputation had never faded.
"Don't worry, Mr. Gray. Every photo will be destroyed," one reporter said quickly, his voice shaking.
They stood there trembling, knowing their jobs weren't worth their lives.
Sebastian stayed quiet, his long fingers slowly spinning the dark beads around his wrist.
The soft clack of the beads was steady, a measured sound. It was the rhythm of Sebastian keeping a darker impulse in check.
Stella's gaze settled on the beads, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.
Then the room filled with a shared, silent gasp.
Her hand, cool and delicate, came to rest over his, stilling the beads beneath her touch.
Standing behind Linda, Sophia watched it all unfold, her sharp eyes taking careful note.
The tension around Sebastian dissolved as quickly as it had gathered.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Let go." It was not the violent reaction everyone had feared.
"Oh, okay," she said and withdrew her hand without pause.
"There is only one matriarch in this family," Sebastian said, his voice low but carrying clearly. "Let that be clear in your accounts."
Jake, a wall of muscle, crushed the reporters' cameras under his boot, making Sebastian's point for him.
The reporters scrambled away without a second thought for their ruined gear. They were simply grateful to escape with their lives.
Linda gritted her teeth as she watched them go, furious but silent. She knew better than to cause a scene.
After all, money meant nothing if she wasn't alive to spend it.
"Sebastian," said Sophia, her voice gentle. Her posture was still elegant, a quiet reminder of the beauty she once was.
"Excuse us," Stella said, not letting her finish. She pushed the wheelchair forward and nearly ran over Linda's foot.
"Watch where you're going!" Linda shrieked, jumping back. The limited-edition Louis Vuitton heels she wore had just arrived that morning, and damaging them would cost far more than she could ever pay back.
Stella stopped and looked at her. The gaze was cool, the kind that seemed to leave no room for lies.
"Very touching. You wore your best shoes to visit the sick," Stella observed, her tone dry and unimpressed.
Linda's face colored with shame. She turned helplessly to Sophia.
"Sophia..." she said, her voice tight.
"Aren't you a bit old to be calling for your elder?" Stella asked, the remark perfectly aimed.
She then gave the wheelchair a gentle push and moved past them without another glance.
*****
Sebastian watched the numbers climb in the quiet elevator. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low. "You had no right to speak for me."
Stella leaned down, her hands coming to rest on the arms of his chair. "A 'thank you' would be more appropriate," she said, meeting his cold stare without flinching.
He was close enough now that she could see the surprising length of his lashes, dark against his skin.
Jake tried his best to disappear into the corner.
Finally, the elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.
Chapter 5 I Can Help Her
Without a word to Sebastian, Stella stepped out of the elevator first, her hands behind her back.
"M-Mr. Gray..." Jake said quietly.
The thought that Stella might have just flirted with him flashed through Jake's mind.
Sebastian's cold glance was enough to silence Jake and send a chill down his back.
*****
Outside the VIP suite, a doctor spoke to Carlos Gray, Sebastian's grandfather, "I'm sorry. We tried everything, but Annette was brought to us too late and has suffered brain damage.
"The medical team agrees that if she doesn't regain consciousness by tonight, we will have to announce brain death."
The doctor was Emily Chase, a longtime family friend of the Grays and one of the country's most accomplished young surgeons.
She removed her mask and let out a tired sigh.
Carlos's cane clattered to the floor. He staggered back, the world swimming before his eyes.
The hall was loud with the cries of the Gray family relatives. Some of the grief looked real, some did not.
"Lucas is a Jinx," Lauren Gray's voice carried over the noise. "Every disaster in this house starts with him."
She pressed a handkerchief that smelled of onion to her eyes, summoning a convincing veil of tears. Through them, she managed to catch her brother Richard Gray's gaze where he stood near Carlos.
After the scandal years ago, their mother, Sophia, had brought them to claim their place as Carlos's children. It was only his wife Annette's fierce opposition that had kept them from being formally recognized all this time.
Now, they saw their chance.
"Dad," Lauren said, her eyes glistening as she looked at Carlos. "You must remove Lucas from the family. Before he brings ruin to us all."
"Is that so?" The quiet question dropped into the room like ice, stopping all sound.
Sebastian's wheelchair rolled forward from the dim edge of the hall. Every face in the family went pale, and the air filled with the sound of stunned breath catching in throats.
"Sebastian," Carlos began, rising quickly to his feet. But the words died in his throat as he met Sebastian's cold stare.
The wheelchair stopped in front of Lauren.
"Look at me," Sebastian said, his voice cold and dangerous. "And say that again."
Lauren was so terrified that her knees buckled. She fell hard to the floor before him, her face damp with cold sweat.
"Who else would like to suggest removing Lucas from the family?" he asked the room.
Sebastian began to turn the black prayer beads around his wrist, his eyes moving slowly across the silent crowd. No one dared meet his gaze.
It was common knowledge that Sebastian only removed those beads when he intended to draw blood.
Just as Sebastian was about to remove his prayer beads, a moment that promised violence, Emily's sharp scream came from Annette's private ward. "What are you doing?"
He went still. Every head turned toward the room.
Its door was now open.
Emily called out clearly from inside, "Carlos, I saw her. She had a needle. She was going to put it in Annette's head."
Within, Stella stood with her wrist caught in Emily's grasp, a silver needle still visible in her hand.
Lucas clung to Emily's coat, his small face distressed.
Carlos's anger found a new target. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is this?"
John, pushing Sebastian's wheelchair, saw Stella and frowned. He was certain she was causing trouble.
Stella's gaze shifted to Sebastian. Her expression smoothed into perfect calm. "Mr. Gray," she said, her voice so steady that it sounded almost detached.
Emily suddenly cried out in pain when Lucas bit her wrist. She let go of Stella immediately.
"You want her to wake up, don't you?" Stella said, pausing briefly. "I can do it."
The room erupted into whispers.
"Are you a doctor?" Emily asked coldly, still cradling her injured wrist.
"No," Stella replied flatly.
"Do you have a license to practice?" Emily pressed.
"No," Stella repeated the word.
Each answer made Emily more scornful. To her, Stella was nothing more than a delusional girl looking for attention.
"Who trained you, then?" Emily asked, her tone thick with sarcasm.
"I just learned," Stella replied, totally unfazed.
Emily didn't hide her contempt this time. She laughed outright. "You really have no idea what you're saying."
Emily found the claim absurd. 'If she's going to make up a story, she might as well have claimed to be a medical genius,' she scoffed to herself.
"Enough," John said quietly, his patience gone. "This isn't a game, Ms. Carter."
He knew better than anyone what Annette meant to Sebastian. To treat her life as a trivial matter was beyond understanding.
"It's not a game," Stella said, her voice low and steady. For the first time, a hard certainty filled her eyes.
She didn't know how she knew, but when she saw Annette, the knowledge came to her with quiet certainty. She could picture exactly where to place the needles, how deep, and at what angle.
"I can help her," Stella said, her gaze locked with Sebastian's. His face gave nothing away, a storm held in check.
"Take her," Carlos ordered, his voice thick with a rage that promised violence.
Before anyone could touch Stella, Lucas stepped in front of Stella, his small body tense and a silent warning growling in his throat.
Sebastian didn't shift. He only raised his eyes to the men advancing on Stella, and the room went still with sudden threat.
"I mean it, Sebastian," Stella said, her words spoken with quiet force.
Stella knew what Annette meant to Lucas and Sebastian. She wasn't one to make promises lightly, but here, she had no proof to offer.
"That's enough," Emily cut in, her voice tight. "Just who do you think you are? A handful of needles? You might as well say you can wake her up right now."
The audacity almost made Emily laugh. 'Does she think she's Shark?' she thought bitterly.
Shark was a freelance surgeon, a medical genius with no ties to any hospital. She was the only doctor in the world with a certified perfect record, and stories claimed her silver needles could work miracles.
She was famously difficult and charged impossible prices, and no one even knew what she looked like. Yet the world's most powerful people still begged for her help.
"You know the cost of failure," Sebastian said, his eyes steady and cold, the air growing heavy as he spoke.
"Mr. Gray!" Emily stared at him in disbelief.
Even Carlos looked shocked.
In the corner, Richard and Lauren exchanged a look of quiet victory.
If Annette died by Stella's hand, their mother's position would be secured, and the family fortune would shift in their direction.
"Mr. Gray, please reconsider it," John said, his voice urgent.
He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Annette's fate in the hands of someone so inexperienced.
Stella looked back at Sebastian, a faint, sure smile on her face. She pulled her hair up into a loose knot with a shark-topped hair tie, and then carefully sterilized the needle.
Her hands moved with a quiet competence that looked strange on someone so young.
John's heart hammered in his chest. "Mr. Gray," he said, his voice strained.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Stella carefully inserted a silver needle into Annette's scalp.
Chapter 1 Wake Up to a New World
Icy water drenched Stella Carter, shocking her awake. She shook her aching head, and as her vision cleared, a deep frown settled on her face.
"She's awake, boss," a male voice said.
Stella glanced around the derelict warehouse, finding herself surrounded by a group of muscular thugs, their eyes cold and dangerous.
"Just bad luck," the boss said. "Once we get the money, we'll take care of you both." He then walked out with his crew to smoke and play cards outside.
Hearing that, Stella turned and met the wide, frightened eyes of a little boy tied up next to her.
The boy was small and pale, maybe four or five years old. A cloth gag filled his mouth, and tears welled up under his long lashes, falling in heavy drops as he stared at her helplessly.
Stella took a long, steadying breath.
Even for someone sharp like her, waking up in a new life to this was beyond belief. She was kidnapped, and to make it worse, she had no memory left.
Stella searched within herself, but her past was a blank slate. She knew her name. She knew she was clever and strong. But that was all.
There was a soft pop-pop as Stella dislocated her wrist and slipped her hand free of the ropes.
The boy next to her paled, forgetting to cry as he watched her reset the joint with another quick, precise twist.
Without a word, Stella reached over and untied him.
Her gaze shifted to the steel pipe the kidnappers had tossed in the corner. A sudden coldness filled the air around her, dropping the temperature in the warehouse with it.
A deep, restless anger tightened in her chest. She needed to move, to let it out.
"At least there's one good thing," she murmured to herself, striding over to lift the steel pipe before turning toward the door.
*****
Far away, on Sandridge Island, the sky hung low and gray.
A hall stood crowded with people, every gaze nervously fixed on the young man seated alone on a leather sofa. He was Sebastian Gray, and no one dared look away.
He wore a simple black shirt, open at the collar. A cigarette glowed between his fingers, its smoke softening the lines of his face.
A string of black prayer beads hung from his wrist.
In front of Sebastian, a man was pinned to the floor.
"Who told you to do this?" Sebastian asked, his voice cool and even.
At his feet, a massive white python slid in slow, silent curves across the floor, its tongue flicking out. The scene was cold and unnatural, a mirror to Sebastian himself.
While he spoke, the python moved onto the sofa and rested its broad head on his thigh.
The man on the floor seemed to collapse in on himself, too terrified to speak a word.
Sebastian's expression didn't change as he slid the beads from his wrist. The simple action sent a chill through the room, and no one dared to make a sound.
He reached down to stroke the python's head, totally unaware of the suffocating weight of his presence.
"Are you hungry?" Sebastian asked, his voice quiet.
The moment he finished speaking, two men stepped forward and hauled the prisoner away.
"Mercy, Mr. Gray. Just one chance..." the voice pleaded desperately, trailing off until nothing remained but silence.
"Mr. Gray, we've got a location," said a bodyguard in black as he stepped quietly to Sebastian's side.
Sebastian's only nephew was missing, and this was the kind of trouble that could turn the world upside down.
When Sebastian looked up, a cold, sharp fear shot through the bodyguard, freezing him where he stood.
"We'll be there in thirty minutes," Sebastian said coldly.
*****
In the old warehouse, the brief but brutal fight was just over.
Stella sat in the only undamaged chair, working the stiffness from her neck with a blank expression. The steel pipe in her hand scraped slowly across the concrete floor, the sound grating and sharp.
She was quiet, her eyes fixed on some distant point.
The once-bold kidnappers now were sprawled on the floor with their hands up, their faces bruised and tear-streaked. They flinched visibly each time the pipe scraped against the ground.
They never thought she'd be this tough. Now they just felt stupid.
Stella sat where the light barely reached, which only made her seem more formidable.
Suddenly, a quiet shuffling sound came from behind her.
It would stop, then start again, full of hesitation.
Then she felt a small, hesitant pull on her sleeve.
Stella went still and looked down to meet the boy's eyes.
He gave her a shy, hopeful smile. With his eyes still red from crying and his long lashes, he looked utterly precious. Sensing his own charm, he leaned his cheek softly into her palm.
"What's your name?" Stella asked, gently pinching his nose.
He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled again, took her hand, and began to write letters carefully on her palm.
"Lucas Gray?" she read his name, realizing he couldn't speak.
When he heard his name, Lucas's face brightened. He quickly held out a tiny phone to her.
He had somehow kept it hidden all along.
The moment Stella took it, the phone rang, the screen flashing "Gray." Without thinking, she pressed it to her ear.
"Had enough fun?" came the low, smooth voice from the other end.
Stella's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Mr. Gray," she said, clearing her throat. "Your kid is with me."
There was only silence from the other side.
Stella, lost in the call, took no notice of the men sprawled on the floor ahead of her. They were staring past her now, their faces ghostly white.
"Is that so?" The words were quiet, but the air in the room grew heavy and still.
"Of course..." Stella began to reply into the phone. Then she paused when she realized that the voice hadn't come from the receiver. It had come from directly behind her.
She turned, and her eyes met a cold, steady gaze.
Stella had to admit, Sebastian was the most striking man she had ever seen.
He stood backlit, a cold outline against the light. Men in dark suits flanked him, but he alone seemed carved from ice, distant and utterly untouchable.
As he lifted his hand, she noticed the black prayer beads around his wrist.
A piercing headache tore through Stella's mind, shattering her focus.
"John," Sebastian said, his voice a cold whisper.
Before Stella could react, a shadow moved behind her. A sharp strike landed on her neck, and she fell, darkness swallowing her whole.
*****
The next morning, Stella stirred in her sleep, feeling something cool and smooth slide against her leg.
A soft, threatening hiss sounded in the quiet room.
She reached out sleepily to push it away, but the moment her fingers touched its skin, her eyes shot open.
She froze as her vision cleared. In the soft morning light, she was staring directly into the black gaze of a huge white python lying right next to her on the bed. It flicked its tongue with a quiet hiss.
"You're awake," Sebastian said.
Chapter 2 A Pet Python
Stella turned toward the sound.
Sebastian sat in the morning light, wearing only a black robe tied loosely at the waist. He was holding a cup of coffee, his long legs stretched out as he read a file open on his lap.
A strand of dark beads hung from his wrist. They swayed gently, giving him a quiet stillness that felt ancient and unreadable.
Stella took him in, and for a moment, she just stared. Then she snapped back to herself, the defiance returning to her eyes as she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth.
"You..." she began.
He looked up then, and their eyes met. That was all it took. The memory of what happened right before she was knocked out rushed back to her in a single, vivid wave.
The large python shifted slowly on the bed, its size making its movements look heavy and almost harmless.
"Snowball," Sebastian said, his voice low and cold.
Stella stared. To her, a man who kept a pet python and gave it a cute name like Snowball was clearly out of the ordinary.
At Sebastian's call, the python slid down from the bed. It wound its way around his legs, coiled onto the sofa behind him, and settled its large head on his shoulder with a soft nudge.
"You're Lucas's father?" Stella asked.
Stella knew she had to explain. She wasn't the kidnapper, but a victim herself.
Sebastian stroked the python's head, his gaze locked on Stella's face as she spoke.
His expression was cool and unreadable, and the casual way he handled the massive python sent a shiver through her.
The folder on Sebastian's lap slipped to the floor, its contents spilling out. Photographs scattered across the tiles, and Stella's words died in her throat.
Every single picture was of her, from childhood through adolescence to recent months. It was a complete dossier on her life.
He had known she was innocent this whole time. Yet he'd sat there silently, letting her talk, when he'd had the truth in his lap all along.
It hit her then that he was testing her. His calculation ran deeper than she had imagined.
"Is this really fun for you, Mr. Gray?" Stella squinted, her slender frame slouched lazily against the headboard.
Sebastian didn't answer. He merely gestured toward the other side of the room.
Stella glanced toward where he pointed and met her own eyes in the mirror.
Her face was a mess of thick, smudged smoky makeup, her ears cluttered with several skull-shaped clips. It was pure punk overload.
She stared at the reflection, her fingers tracing the line of her brow. The cheap makeup was caked on thick, but beneath it all, the elegant lines of her face were still there. It gave her a look that was naturally cool and reserved.
"Mr. Gray..." She threw off the covers, stood up barefoot, and moved with a swagger. "I'm getting this off."
*****
In the bathroom, Stella cleared the fog from the mirror. Her flawless skin was flushed and dewy from the shower, giving her a fresh, delicate beauty.
Her face was bare, without a trace of makeup. In the stillness, her captivating eyes blinked slowly, their gaze catching the light with a faint, honeyed warmth.
She seemed calm, but there was a cool distance in her expression that kept people away.
A small mole rested on her collarbone.
Her hair, freshly dried, fell in soft, shiny waves all the way down her back.
Yet Stella's mind was empty. She knew her name, but nothing else about who she was.
After she got dressed and walked out, both Sebastian and the large white python were gone.
Only a mess of photos and files remained, scattered across the floor.
"Stella Carter... eighteen," she murmured to herself, her slender fingers turning the pages as she scanned the file's sparse lines.
The records stated she was a former student of Central High School, expelled just last week for failing grades and excessive absences. She had a reputation as a rebel, and her home life was reportedly strained.
It also revealed that her younger sister, Hazel Carter, attended Edenbury Academy, the city's most elite and costly private school.
Stella turned the page, and a chill settled in her eyes as she read that she was not the Carters' real daughter.
The Carters had known the truth all along, which was why they had always treated the two sisters so differently.
What made no sense was the money. The Carters were not wealthy, yet they managed to pay for Edenbury Academy's enormous fees year after year, a sum that ran into the millions.
She was still turning this over in her mind when a rapid, anxious knock came at her bedroom door.
"Ms. Carter!" came the tense voice of Jake Yates, Sebastian's other subordinate, as he pounded hard on the wood.
He started to speak again as the door suddenly opened from the inside.
His raised fist almost struck her, but Stella moved swiftly out of the way.
He froze, his words dying on his lips as he got a clear look at her face.
He stared, hardly believing this was the same girl Sebastian had brought home yesterday, the one with messy, smudged makeup. Now, she looked clear and quietly beautiful.
"So you're sending me away," Stella said, her voice steady and without much emotion.
Lucas was safe now. Even if Sebastian had said nothing, she would have been ready to go.
"Ms. Carter, please follow me," Jake said, shaking his head as he remembered his actual task.
The memory of Lucas's demolished room was enough to make his blood run cold.
He would gladly trade a month in combat for a single day of babysitting duty.
"Has something happened to him?" Stella asked, a sudden fear gripping her as she followed Jake to the elevator.
Lucas's room was on the third floor. When the elevator doors opened, a vase shot past them and exploded against the wall. The floor was a sea of wreckage, with no clear path through.
Stella stared, utterly speechless.
"He did this alone?" Stella asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. The devastation was absolute.
Jake could only give a stiff, helpless nod.
Stella turned and entered the room. The scene grew more chaotic with every step.
The servants stood quietly nearby, their silence a clear sign they had seen this all before.
"Bring in a fresh set for him to break," Sebastian ordered. His tone was icy and held no mercy for the five-year-old boy, cutting with a ruthless edge.
Soon, a servant was replacing the broken items on the shelves with new ones, each piece a costly antique.
Lucas grunted angrily, swinging his small fists to warn anyone who tried to come close.
The white python, Snowball, coiled protectively around Lucas, letting the boy rest against his scales.
Seeing Lucas on the verge of total exhaustion, Stella turned a cold glare toward Sebastian. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded.
Stella's expression tightened as Lucas started to move, her eyes flashing with immediate concern.
He was barefoot on a floor littered with glass. One wrong step could cut him.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming to you," she said firmly.
As Stella approached, Lucas's face lit up for a moment before his eyes glistened with tears.
His chin trembled as he reached his small hands out to her.
Chapter 3 Paid to Stay
Silent sobs shook Lucas's little frame, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. His need for comfort was clear.
"Do not pick him up," Sebastian ordered, his icy voice cutting through the room and deepening the tension.
Stella acted as if she hadn't heard him. She leaned down, shielding Lucas's ears with her hands, and whispered softly to him, "Ignore that weirdo."
Jake was trying to ease his way out of the room when his brother John shot him a look that could freeze fire. He stopped moving at once, his face settling into a resigned frown.
He was trapped. When forces like these clashed, the bystanders never fared well.
"Stella," Sebastian said, a slow and dangerous smile crossing his face. He had never met anyone brave enough to defy him so openly.
"You're not a young man, Mr. Gray. Why bother fighting with a child?" Stella's voice was laced with clear sarcasm.
She easily lifted Lucas into her arms and held him close, all while giving Sebastian a sharp, challenging look.
Sebastian's expression turned cold, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, unyielding intensity.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone watching held their breath, sharing the same silent thought that Stella was either fearless or foolish.
A long moment passed before Sebastian finally moved, just a slight shift of his fingers. It was enough. The tension broke, and everyone around them let out a slow, collective breath. The sudden shift in tension felt utterly surreal.
Servants rushed forward, quietly clearing the wreckage from the floor before slipping out again.
With Lucas in her arms, Stella turned to leave.
As Stella turned to leave, John blocked her path at the door. "You have not been dismissed by Mr. Gray, Ms. Carter," he stated flatly.
Stella recognized him immediately as the man who had knocked her unconscious in the warehouse. She regarded him with a thoughtful look.
Lucas huffed and tried to bite at John's hand, but Stella gently caught his chin and held his mouth closed.
Lucas blinked, and then tilted his head to the side, looking suddenly as soft and harmless as a baby bird.
"Alright. I'm not going," Stella replied calmly. She carried Lucas back into the room and took a seat directly facing Sebastian.
As she sat, a quiet realization stopped her. Sebastian was in a wheelchair, a detail she had missed until now. This didn't fit, since she clearly remembered him standing in that warehouse.
She wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her.
"You've never asked my name," Sebastian said, his voice low. His eyes, steady and inscrutable, stayed fixed on Stella.
His face revealed nothing, his sharp, handsome features a mask of cool control. He held himself with the calm authority of someone accustomed to being in charge.
Jake's eyes lit up at the comment. He instinctively glanced toward John with an openly curious look.
John answered with another sharp look, a clear command for his brother to stop.
"Does it matter?" Stella said without thinking, her face showing her genuine confusion.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
A moment later, sensing her own bluntness, she added with a casual shrug, "I'm leaving soon anyway. Does it even matter what your name is, Mr. Gray?"
The air in the room seemed to grow even heavier.
Jake hunched his shoulders slightly, watching Stella. In his eyes, her manner was straightforward to the point of being almost tactless.
Sebastian's voice was quiet. "I didn't give you permission to go."
He watched her with a look that felt too deep, too knowing. His hand moved slowly over the python's head as it lay across his lap, the gesture steady and unnervingly patient.
Stella's face showed nothing, but she was listening, weighing each word.
Then a contract was set down in front of her.
"Stay and look after him," he said. "The offer is thirty million dollars." He said it plainly, as if naming a price for an ordinary service.
Stella remained silent, though her lashes lowered for a beat.
Sebastian didn't press her. He simply twisted the python's tail in his fingers, his attention drifting back to her delicate face now and then. Something shifted behind his calm expression, a quiet intensity she couldn't read.
Lucas tilted his head back, blinking his wide, bright eyes up at Stella. He nuzzled his soft, curly hair against her hand in a little plea for affection.
A wave of regret washed over him for his earlier outburst, and he worried that he might have scared her.
He wondered if she thought he was a bad kid now.
"All of your needs will be taken care of," Sebastian stated. "Your only job is to stay here with him."
Noticing Lucas's genuine unhappiness, Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Snowball slipped swiftly from Sebastian's lap and retreated to a corner, coiling itself into a tight, defensive loop.
"John..." Jake leaned in close to John, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me, after watching a ton of dramas, I can already see it.
"Ms. Carter is gonna shove that contract right in Mr. Gray's face, yell 'You think money can buy me?', and run out crying."
John ignored him completely.
As Sebastian's most trusted man, John knew his duty. If Sebastian wanted her to stay, John would make it happen by any means necessary.
"You..." Stella looked up, her voice quiet but steady. Her expression was impossible to read.
Jake nudged John, his eyes bright with expectation.
Sebastian's presence was cold and absolute. Even seated in the wheelchair, he was no less intimidating.
"You have to give me a pen," she said simply. A signature required a pen, and there was none.
Everyone looked at the empty space on the table beside the contract. There was no pen.
Sebastian turned his head toward Jake, who had brought the papers. His handsome face showed no feeling, his gaze as flat and dismissive as if Jake were furniture.
A silent cry for help flashed in Jake's mind as he braced himself for the consequences.
A pen was quickly brought forward. Stella took it, letting it roll once through her fingers in a smooth, practiced motion before holding it still.
She looked directly at Sebastian and said, "Mr. Gray, let me ask you one last question...
"Are you really willing to pay thirty million to keep me here with Lucas, even if I might cause trouble for you later?"
It was a choice she was leaving in his hands.
Even without her memories, something deep inside assured her that she always kept her promises.
Payment meant responsibility.
Sebastian's reply was immediate and straightforward. In one smooth motion, he slid a black bank card across the table toward her. It was an unlimited account, loaded with thirty million dollars.
"The pin is six zeroes," he said, his voice calm and steady.
A small smile touched Stella's lips, and her eyes seemed to brighten. "I have one more condition, though."
"Name it," Sebastian replied. His handsome face remained completely impassive, even as she raised the stakes.
"My condition is admission to Edenbury Academy," Stella said. That elite academy was her price, and she would not be refused.
"Deal," Sebastian replied, sounding like he'd been waiting for her to ask.
His swift agreement settled it. Stella took the pen and signed. "A deal, then."
From that moment on, she saw him as her sponsor.
"Mr. Gray," John's voice cut in, sharp with urgency. "Your grandmother is in the hospital."
The atmosphere in the room turned.
Chapter 4 Go to the Hospital
A cold stillness fell, radiating from Sebastian until the very air felt brittle.
"Go on," Sebastian said, the words a low command.
"Someone told your grandmother about the kidnapping. She collapsed on the spot, her heart giving out from the shock. They've taken her to the hospital," John replied.
His eyes flicked toward Sebastian before he spoke again, his voice lowered, "It doesn't look good."
As she processed the information, Stella felt Lucas grow tense and fearful in her arms. He was whimpering softly against her.
A suffocating tension filled the room, pressing down on everyone until it was almost unbearable.
Just as the silence became too much to endure, Sebastian finally gave the order. "Have the car brought around. We're going to the hospital."
Stella had hoped to stay behind, but Sebastian glanced at her and shattered that hope. "You're going with Lucas."
She accepted it quietly, reasoning that the person who paid was the one who made the rules.
*****
A black Maybach glided smoothly along the highway. Its custom interior was quiet and comfortable.
Stella watched the world pass by outside her window. Had she not just been there, she never would have believed they had come from a private island.
The fact that Sebastian owned an entire island made her wonder just who he really was.
But she had no time to dwell on it. The moment Sebastian settled into the car, she could tell something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
His gaze was heavy and shadowed. The chronic pain in his head, worn thin from years of sleepless nights, was sharpening into something violent.
A dangerous stillness had entered his eyes, and even Lucas had sensed the tension.
"Your pills, Mr. Gray," Jake said quickly from the front seat, turning to pass a small bottle back.
Before he could deliver it, the car hit a rut. The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, stopping near Stella's foot.
She looked down at the bottle, noticing that the label was in a foreign language.
She recognized the class of medication. It was for the mind.
"Could you get that, Ms. Carter?" Jake mouthed, his expression pleading as he pressed his hands together in a silent appeal.
Stella picked it up and held it out to Sebastian. "Here."
In the next instant, Sebastian's hand closed firmly around hers, trapping both her fingers and the bottle in his grip.
Stella looked down at their linked hands but said nothing.
A moment later, Sebastian released her hand and took the medicine bottle without even glancing her way.
Then he rolled down the window and tossed the bottle out.
'He is not right in the head,' Stella thought to herself.
"Drive faster," Sebastian ordered. He leaned back heavily into the leather seat and closed his eyes, his brows pulled together tightly.
"Yes, sir," John answered from the front.
*****
Half an hour earlier, the emergency wing of the private hospital had been sealed off by a cordon of armed guards. No one was getting through.
The news had leaked, and reporters were already gathered outside, their camera flashes lighting up the scene.
"We pay your wages," a shrill voice declared. "How dare you keep the family matriarch from entering?"
Linda Gray held the arm of an elderly woman in a tailored dress, her own posture full of disdain. With a dismissive sway of her hips, she tried to push past the guards.
The woman she was pulling along was Sophia Chapman. Her silver hair was swept into a soft bun, and her simple white dress carried a calm grace that made Linda's tense urgency seem all the more jarring.
They were halted just steps from the door.
"Do you not see who is here?" Linda said, her voice sharp.
Before Linda could utter another word, the air behind them turned cold and dense with warning.
The fight went out of her at once. She turned to find herself locked in a stare that felt fatal.
The wheelchair did nothing to lessen the effect.
"S-Sebastian," she managed, her voice a thin whisper. "You're here."
Sebastian sat still, a dark blanket covering his lap. His face was too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were deep and bruised.
"What did you call me?" Sebastian asked, turning his gaze toward Linda.
The look was so sharp that it made her legs go weak.
Stella watched the reporters from behind Sebastian's wheelchair. Now she understood why he had arranged for Lucas to be taken straight inside.
"Bring them all over here," Sebastian ordered in a flat, calm voice, but Stella could feel something cold and dangerous lying just beneath his quiet surface.
The reporters were quickly ushered toward him.
It had been years since the incident, and though Sebastian had kept out of sight since then, his reputation had never faded.
"Don't worry, Mr. Gray. Every photo will be destroyed," one reporter said quickly, his voice shaking.
They stood there trembling, knowing their jobs weren't worth their lives.
Sebastian stayed quiet, his long fingers slowly spinning the dark beads around his wrist.
The soft clack of the beads was steady, a measured sound. It was the rhythm of Sebastian keeping a darker impulse in check.
Stella's gaze settled on the beads, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.
Then the room filled with a shared, silent gasp.
Her hand, cool and delicate, came to rest over his, stilling the beads beneath her touch.
Standing behind Linda, Sophia watched it all unfold, her sharp eyes taking careful note.
The tension around Sebastian dissolved as quickly as it had gathered.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Let go." It was not the violent reaction everyone had feared.
"Oh, okay," she said and withdrew her hand without pause.
"There is only one matriarch in this family," Sebastian said, his voice low but carrying clearly. "Let that be clear in your accounts."
Jake, a wall of muscle, crushed the reporters' cameras under his boot, making Sebastian's point for him.
The reporters scrambled away without a second thought for their ruined gear. They were simply grateful to escape with their lives.
Linda gritted her teeth as she watched them go, furious but silent. She knew better than to cause a scene.
After all, money meant nothing if she wasn't alive to spend it.
"Sebastian," said Sophia, her voice gentle. Her posture was still elegant, a quiet reminder of the beauty she once was.
"Excuse us," Stella said, not letting her finish. She pushed the wheelchair forward and nearly ran over Linda's foot.
"Watch where you're going!" Linda shrieked, jumping back. The limited-edition Louis Vuitton heels she wore had just arrived that morning, and damaging them would cost far more than she could ever pay back.
Stella stopped and looked at her. The gaze was cool, the kind that seemed to leave no room for lies.
"Very touching. You wore your best shoes to visit the sick," Stella observed, her tone dry and unimpressed.
Linda's face colored with shame. She turned helplessly to Sophia.
"Sophia..." she said, her voice tight.
"Aren't you a bit old to be calling for your elder?" Stella asked, the remark perfectly aimed.
She then gave the wheelchair a gentle push and moved past them without another glance.
*****
Sebastian watched the numbers climb in the quiet elevator. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low. "You had no right to speak for me."
Stella leaned down, her hands coming to rest on the arms of his chair. "A 'thank you' would be more appropriate," she said, meeting his cold stare without flinching.
He was close enough now that she could see the surprising length of his lashes, dark against his skin.
Jake tried his best to disappear into the corner.
Finally, the elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.
Chapter 5 I Can Help Her
Without a word to Sebastian, Stella stepped out of the elevator first, her hands behind her back.
"M-Mr. Gray..." Jake said quietly.
The thought that Stella might have just flirted with him flashed through Jake's mind.
Sebastian's cold glance was enough to silence Jake and send a chill down his back.
*****
Outside the VIP suite, a doctor spoke to Carlos Gray, Sebastian's grandfather, "I'm sorry. We tried everything, but Annette was brought to us too late and has suffered brain damage.
"The medical team agrees that if she doesn't regain consciousness by tonight, we will have to announce brain death."
The doctor was Emily Chase, a longtime family friend of the Grays and one of the country's most accomplished young surgeons.
She removed her mask and let out a tired sigh.
Carlos's cane clattered to the floor. He staggered back, the world swimming before his eyes.
The hall was loud with the cries of the Gray family relatives. Some of the grief looked real, some did not.
"Lucas is a Jinx," Lauren Gray's voice carried over the noise. "Every disaster in this house starts with him."
She pressed a handkerchief that smelled of onion to her eyes, summoning a convincing veil of tears. Through them, she managed to catch her brother Richard Gray's gaze where he stood near Carlos.
After the scandal years ago, their mother, Sophia, had brought them to claim their place as Carlos's children. It was only his wife Annette's fierce opposition that had kept them from being formally recognized all this time.
Now, they saw their chance.
"Dad," Lauren said, her eyes glistening as she looked at Carlos. "You must remove Lucas from the family. Before he brings ruin to us all."
"Is that so?" The quiet question dropped into the room like ice, stopping all sound.
Sebastian's wheelchair rolled forward from the dim edge of the hall. Every face in the family went pale, and the air filled with the sound of stunned breath catching in throats.
"Sebastian," Carlos began, rising quickly to his feet. But the words died in his throat as he met Sebastian's cold stare.
The wheelchair stopped in front of Lauren.
"Look at me," Sebastian said, his voice cold and dangerous. "And say that again."
Lauren was so terrified that her knees buckled. She fell hard to the floor before him, her face damp with cold sweat.
"Who else would like to suggest removing Lucas from the family?" he asked the room.
Sebastian began to turn the black prayer beads around his wrist, his eyes moving slowly across the silent crowd. No one dared meet his gaze.
It was common knowledge that Sebastian only removed those beads when he intended to draw blood.
Just as Sebastian was about to remove his prayer beads, a moment that promised violence, Emily's sharp scream came from Annette's private ward. "What are you doing?"
He went still. Every head turned toward the room.
Its door was now open.
Emily called out clearly from inside, "Carlos, I saw her. She had a needle. She was going to put it in Annette's head."
Within, Stella stood with her wrist caught in Emily's grasp, a silver needle still visible in her hand.
Lucas clung to Emily's coat, his small face distressed.
Carlos's anger found a new target. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is this?"
John, pushing Sebastian's wheelchair, saw Stella and frowned. He was certain she was causing trouble.
Stella's gaze shifted to Sebastian. Her expression smoothed into perfect calm. "Mr. Gray," she said, her voice so steady that it sounded almost detached.
Emily suddenly cried out in pain when Lucas bit her wrist. She let go of Stella immediately.
"You want her to wake up, don't you?" Stella said, pausing briefly. "I can do it."
The room erupted into whispers.
"Are you a doctor?" Emily asked coldly, still cradling her injured wrist.
"No," Stella replied flatly.
"Do you have a license to practice?" Emily pressed.
"No," Stella repeated the word.
Each answer made Emily more scornful. To her, Stella was nothing more than a delusional girl looking for attention.
"Who trained you, then?" Emily asked, her tone thick with sarcasm.
"I just learned," Stella replied, totally unfazed.
Emily didn't hide her contempt this time. She laughed outright. "You really have no idea what you're saying."
Emily found the claim absurd. 'If she's going to make up a story, she might as well have claimed to be a medical genius,' she scoffed to herself.
"Enough," John said quietly, his patience gone. "This isn't a game, Ms. Carter."
He knew better than anyone what Annette meant to Sebastian. To treat her life as a trivial matter was beyond understanding.
"It's not a game," Stella said, her voice low and steady. For the first time, a hard certainty filled her eyes.
She didn't know how she knew, but when she saw Annette, the knowledge came to her with quiet certainty. She could picture exactly where to place the needles, how deep, and at what angle.
"I can help her," Stella said, her gaze locked with Sebastian's. His face gave nothing away, a storm held in check.
"Take her," Carlos ordered, his voice thick with a rage that promised violence.
Before anyone could touch Stella, Lucas stepped in front of Stella, his small body tense and a silent warning growling in his throat.
Sebastian didn't shift. He only raised his eyes to the men advancing on Stella, and the room went still with sudden threat.
"I mean it, Sebastian," Stella said, her words spoken with quiet force.
Stella knew what Annette meant to Lucas and Sebastian. She wasn't one to make promises lightly, but here, she had no proof to offer.
"That's enough," Emily cut in, her voice tight. "Just who do you think you are? A handful of needles? You might as well say you can wake her up right now."
The audacity almost made Emily laugh. 'Does she think she's Shark?' she thought bitterly.
Shark was a freelance surgeon, a medical genius with no ties to any hospital. She was the only doctor in the world with a certified perfect record, and stories claimed her silver needles could work miracles.
She was famously difficult and charged impossible prices, and no one even knew what she looked like. Yet the world's most powerful people still begged for her help.
"You know the cost of failure," Sebastian said, his eyes steady and cold, the air growing heavy as he spoke.
"Mr. Gray!" Emily stared at him in disbelief.
Even Carlos looked shocked.
In the corner, Richard and Lauren exchanged a look of quiet victory.
If Annette died by Stella's hand, their mother's position would be secured, and the family fortune would shift in their direction.
"Mr. Gray, please reconsider it," John said, his voice urgent.
He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Annette's fate in the hands of someone so inexperienced.
Stella looked back at Sebastian, a faint, sure smile on her face. She pulled her hair up into a loose knot with a shark-topped hair tie, and then carefully sterilized the needle.
Her hands moved with a quiet competence that looked strange on someone so young.
John's heart hammered in his chest. "Mr. Gray," he said, his voice strained.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Stella carefully inserted a silver needle into Annette's scalp.
Chapter 1 Wake Up to a New World
Icy water drenched Stella Carter, shocking her awake. She shook her aching head, and as her vision cleared, a deep frown settled on her face.
"She's awake, boss," a male voice said.
Stella glanced around the derelict warehouse, finding herself surrounded by a group of muscular thugs, their eyes cold and dangerous.
"Just bad luck," the boss said. "Once we get the money, we'll take care of you both." He then walked out with his crew to smoke and play cards outside.
Hearing that, Stella turned and met the wide, frightened eyes of a little boy tied up next to her.
The boy was small and pale, maybe four or five years old. A cloth gag filled his mouth, and tears welled up under his long lashes, falling in heavy drops as he stared at her helplessly.
Stella took a long, steadying breath.
Even for someone sharp like her, waking up in a new life to this was beyond belief. She was kidnapped, and to make it worse, she had no memory left.
Stella searched within herself, but her past was a blank slate. She knew her name. She knew she was clever and strong. But that was all.
There was a soft pop-pop as Stella dislocated her wrist and slipped her hand free of the ropes.
The boy next to her paled, forgetting to cry as he watched her reset the joint with another quick, precise twist.
Without a word, Stella reached over and untied him.
Her gaze shifted to the steel pipe the kidnappers had tossed in the corner. A sudden coldness filled the air around her, dropping the temperature in the warehouse with it.
A deep, restless anger tightened in her chest. She needed to move, to let it out.
"At least there's one good thing," she murmured to herself, striding over to lift the steel pipe before turning toward the door.
*****
Far away, on Sandridge Island, the sky hung low and gray.
A hall stood crowded with people, every gaze nervously fixed on the young man seated alone on a leather sofa. He was Sebastian Gray, and no one dared look away.
He wore a simple black shirt, open at the collar. A cigarette glowed between his fingers, its smoke softening the lines of his face.
A string of black prayer beads hung from his wrist.
In front of Sebastian, a man was pinned to the floor.
"Who told you to do this?" Sebastian asked, his voice cool and even.
At his feet, a massive white python slid in slow, silent curves across the floor, its tongue flicking out. The scene was cold and unnatural, a mirror to Sebastian himself.
While he spoke, the python moved onto the sofa and rested its broad head on his thigh.
The man on the floor seemed to collapse in on himself, too terrified to speak a word.
Sebastian's expression didn't change as he slid the beads from his wrist. The simple action sent a chill through the room, and no one dared to make a sound.
He reached down to stroke the python's head, totally unaware of the suffocating weight of his presence.
"Are you hungry?" Sebastian asked, his voice quiet.
The moment he finished speaking, two men stepped forward and hauled the prisoner away.
"Mercy, Mr. Gray. Just one chance..." the voice pleaded desperately, trailing off until nothing remained but silence.
"Mr. Gray, we've got a location," said a bodyguard in black as he stepped quietly to Sebastian's side.
Sebastian's only nephew was missing, and this was the kind of trouble that could turn the world upside down.
When Sebastian looked up, a cold, sharp fear shot through the bodyguard, freezing him where he stood.
"We'll be there in thirty minutes," Sebastian said coldly.
*****
In the old warehouse, the brief but brutal fight was just over.
Stella sat in the only undamaged chair, working the stiffness from her neck with a blank expression. The steel pipe in her hand scraped slowly across the concrete floor, the sound grating and sharp.
She was quiet, her eyes fixed on some distant point.
The once-bold kidnappers now were sprawled on the floor with their hands up, their faces bruised and tear-streaked. They flinched visibly each time the pipe scraped against the ground.
They never thought she'd be this tough. Now they just felt stupid.
Stella sat where the light barely reached, which only made her seem more formidable.
Suddenly, a quiet shuffling sound came from behind her.
It would stop, then start again, full of hesitation.
Then she felt a small, hesitant pull on her sleeve.
Stella went still and looked down to meet the boy's eyes.
He gave her a shy, hopeful smile. With his eyes still red from crying and his long lashes, he looked utterly precious. Sensing his own charm, he leaned his cheek softly into her palm.
"What's your name?" Stella asked, gently pinching his nose.
He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled again, took her hand, and began to write letters carefully on her palm.
"Lucas Gray?" she read his name, realizing he couldn't speak.
When he heard his name, Lucas's face brightened. He quickly held out a tiny phone to her.
He had somehow kept it hidden all along.
The moment Stella took it, the phone rang, the screen flashing "Gray." Without thinking, she pressed it to her ear.
"Had enough fun?" came the low, smooth voice from the other end.
Stella's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Mr. Gray," she said, clearing her throat. "Your kid is with me."
There was only silence from the other side.
Stella, lost in the call, took no notice of the men sprawled on the floor ahead of her. They were staring past her now, their faces ghostly white.
"Is that so?" The words were quiet, but the air in the room grew heavy and still.
"Of course..." Stella began to reply into the phone. Then she paused when she realized that the voice hadn't come from the receiver. It had come from directly behind her.
She turned, and her eyes met a cold, steady gaze.
Stella had to admit, Sebastian was the most striking man she had ever seen.
He stood backlit, a cold outline against the light. Men in dark suits flanked him, but he alone seemed carved from ice, distant and utterly untouchable.
As he lifted his hand, she noticed the black prayer beads around his wrist.
A piercing headache tore through Stella's mind, shattering her focus.
"John," Sebastian said, his voice a cold whisper.
Before Stella could react, a shadow moved behind her. A sharp strike landed on her neck, and she fell, darkness swallowing her whole.
*****
The next morning, Stella stirred in her sleep, feeling something cool and smooth slide against her leg.
A soft, threatening hiss sounded in the quiet room.
She reached out sleepily to push it away, but the moment her fingers touched its skin, her eyes shot open.
She froze as her vision cleared. In the soft morning light, she was staring directly into the black gaze of a huge white python lying right next to her on the bed. It flicked its tongue with a quiet hiss.
"You're awake," Sebastian said.
Chapter 2 A Pet Python
Stella turned toward the sound.
Sebastian sat in the morning light, wearing only a black robe tied loosely at the waist. He was holding a cup of coffee, his long legs stretched out as he read a file open on his lap.
A strand of dark beads hung from his wrist. They swayed gently, giving him a quiet stillness that felt ancient and unreadable.
Stella took him in, and for a moment, she just stared. Then she snapped back to herself, the defiance returning to her eyes as she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth.
"You..." she began.
He looked up then, and their eyes met. That was all it took. The memory of what happened right before she was knocked out rushed back to her in a single, vivid wave.
The large python shifted slowly on the bed, its size making its movements look heavy and almost harmless.
"Snowball," Sebastian said, his voice low and cold.
Stella stared. To her, a man who kept a pet python and gave it a cute name like Snowball was clearly out of the ordinary.
At Sebastian's call, the python slid down from the bed. It wound its way around his legs, coiled onto the sofa behind him, and settled its large head on his shoulder with a soft nudge.
"You're Lucas's father?" Stella asked.
Stella knew she had to explain. She wasn't the kidnapper, but a victim herself.
Sebastian stroked the python's head, his gaze locked on Stella's face as she spoke.
His expression was cool and unreadable, and the casual way he handled the massive python sent a shiver through her.
The folder on Sebastian's lap slipped to the floor, its contents spilling out. Photographs scattered across the tiles, and Stella's words died in her throat.
Every single picture was of her, from childhood through adolescence to recent months. It was a complete dossier on her life.
He had known she was innocent this whole time. Yet he'd sat there silently, letting her talk, when he'd had the truth in his lap all along.
It hit her then that he was testing her. His calculation ran deeper than she had imagined.
"Is this really fun for you, Mr. Gray?" Stella squinted, her slender frame slouched lazily against the headboard.
Sebastian didn't answer. He merely gestured toward the other side of the room.
Stella glanced toward where he pointed and met her own eyes in the mirror.
Her face was a mess of thick, smudged smoky makeup, her ears cluttered with several skull-shaped clips. It was pure punk overload.
She stared at the reflection, her fingers tracing the line of her brow. The cheap makeup was caked on thick, but beneath it all, the elegant lines of her face were still there. It gave her a look that was naturally cool and reserved.
"Mr. Gray..." She threw off the covers, stood up barefoot, and moved with a swagger. "I'm getting this off."
*****
In the bathroom, Stella cleared the fog from the mirror. Her flawless skin was flushed and dewy from the shower, giving her a fresh, delicate beauty.
Her face was bare, without a trace of makeup. In the stillness, her captivating eyes blinked slowly, their gaze catching the light with a faint, honeyed warmth.
She seemed calm, but there was a cool distance in her expression that kept people away.
A small mole rested on her collarbone.
Her hair, freshly dried, fell in soft, shiny waves all the way down her back.
Yet Stella's mind was empty. She knew her name, but nothing else about who she was.
After she got dressed and walked out, both Sebastian and the large white python were gone.
Only a mess of photos and files remained, scattered across the floor.
"Stella Carter... eighteen," she murmured to herself, her slender fingers turning the pages as she scanned the file's sparse lines.
The records stated she was a former student of Central High School, expelled just last week for failing grades and excessive absences. She had a reputation as a rebel, and her home life was reportedly strained.
It also revealed that her younger sister, Hazel Carter, attended Edenbury Academy, the city's most elite and costly private school.
Stella turned the page, and a chill settled in her eyes as she read that she was not the Carters' real daughter.
The Carters had known the truth all along, which was why they had always treated the two sisters so differently.
What made no sense was the money. The Carters were not wealthy, yet they managed to pay for Edenbury Academy's enormous fees year after year, a sum that ran into the millions.
She was still turning this over in her mind when a rapid, anxious knock came at her bedroom door.
"Ms. Carter!" came the tense voice of Jake Yates, Sebastian's other subordinate, as he pounded hard on the wood.
He started to speak again as the door suddenly opened from the inside.
His raised fist almost struck her, but Stella moved swiftly out of the way.
He froze, his words dying on his lips as he got a clear look at her face.
He stared, hardly believing this was the same girl Sebastian had brought home yesterday, the one with messy, smudged makeup. Now, she looked clear and quietly beautiful.
"So you're sending me away," Stella said, her voice steady and without much emotion.
Lucas was safe now. Even if Sebastian had said nothing, she would have been ready to go.
"Ms. Carter, please follow me," Jake said, shaking his head as he remembered his actual task.
The memory of Lucas's demolished room was enough to make his blood run cold.
He would gladly trade a month in combat for a single day of babysitting duty.
"Has something happened to him?" Stella asked, a sudden fear gripping her as she followed Jake to the elevator.
Lucas's room was on the third floor. When the elevator doors opened, a vase shot past them and exploded against the wall. The floor was a sea of wreckage, with no clear path through.
Stella stared, utterly speechless.
"He did this alone?" Stella asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. The devastation was absolute.
Jake could only give a stiff, helpless nod.
Stella turned and entered the room. The scene grew more chaotic with every step.
The servants stood quietly nearby, their silence a clear sign they had seen this all before.
"Bring in a fresh set for him to break," Sebastian ordered. His tone was icy and held no mercy for the five-year-old boy, cutting with a ruthless edge.
Soon, a servant was replacing the broken items on the shelves with new ones, each piece a costly antique.
Lucas grunted angrily, swinging his small fists to warn anyone who tried to come close.
The white python, Snowball, coiled protectively around Lucas, letting the boy rest against his scales.
Seeing Lucas on the verge of total exhaustion, Stella turned a cold glare toward Sebastian. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded.
Stella's expression tightened as Lucas started to move, her eyes flashing with immediate concern.
He was barefoot on a floor littered with glass. One wrong step could cut him.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming to you," she said firmly.
As Stella approached, Lucas's face lit up for a moment before his eyes glistened with tears.
His chin trembled as he reached his small hands out to her.
Chapter 3 Paid to Stay
Silent sobs shook Lucas's little frame, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. His need for comfort was clear.
"Do not pick him up," Sebastian ordered, his icy voice cutting through the room and deepening the tension.
Stella acted as if she hadn't heard him. She leaned down, shielding Lucas's ears with her hands, and whispered softly to him, "Ignore that weirdo."
Jake was trying to ease his way out of the room when his brother John shot him a look that could freeze fire. He stopped moving at once, his face settling into a resigned frown.
He was trapped. When forces like these clashed, the bystanders never fared well.
"Stella," Sebastian said, a slow and dangerous smile crossing his face. He had never met anyone brave enough to defy him so openly.
"You're not a young man, Mr. Gray. Why bother fighting with a child?" Stella's voice was laced with clear sarcasm.
She easily lifted Lucas into her arms and held him close, all while giving Sebastian a sharp, challenging look.
Sebastian's expression turned cold, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, unyielding intensity.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone watching held their breath, sharing the same silent thought that Stella was either fearless or foolish.
A long moment passed before Sebastian finally moved, just a slight shift of his fingers. It was enough. The tension broke, and everyone around them let out a slow, collective breath. The sudden shift in tension felt utterly surreal.
Servants rushed forward, quietly clearing the wreckage from the floor before slipping out again.
With Lucas in her arms, Stella turned to leave.
As Stella turned to leave, John blocked her path at the door. "You have not been dismissed by Mr. Gray, Ms. Carter," he stated flatly.
Stella recognized him immediately as the man who had knocked her unconscious in the warehouse. She regarded him with a thoughtful look.
Lucas huffed and tried to bite at John's hand, but Stella gently caught his chin and held his mouth closed.
Lucas blinked, and then tilted his head to the side, looking suddenly as soft and harmless as a baby bird.
"Alright. I'm not going," Stella replied calmly. She carried Lucas back into the room and took a seat directly facing Sebastian.
As she sat, a quiet realization stopped her. Sebastian was in a wheelchair, a detail she had missed until now. This didn't fit, since she clearly remembered him standing in that warehouse.
She wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her.
"You've never asked my name," Sebastian said, his voice low. His eyes, steady and inscrutable, stayed fixed on Stella.
His face revealed nothing, his sharp, handsome features a mask of cool control. He held himself with the calm authority of someone accustomed to being in charge.
Jake's eyes lit up at the comment. He instinctively glanced toward John with an openly curious look.
John answered with another sharp look, a clear command for his brother to stop.
"Does it matter?" Stella said without thinking, her face showing her genuine confusion.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
A moment later, sensing her own bluntness, she added with a casual shrug, "I'm leaving soon anyway. Does it even matter what your name is, Mr. Gray?"
The air in the room seemed to grow even heavier.
Jake hunched his shoulders slightly, watching Stella. In his eyes, her manner was straightforward to the point of being almost tactless.
Sebastian's voice was quiet. "I didn't give you permission to go."
He watched her with a look that felt too deep, too knowing. His hand moved slowly over the python's head as it lay across his lap, the gesture steady and unnervingly patient.
Stella's face showed nothing, but she was listening, weighing each word.
Then a contract was set down in front of her.
"Stay and look after him," he said. "The offer is thirty million dollars." He said it plainly, as if naming a price for an ordinary service.
Stella remained silent, though her lashes lowered for a beat.
Sebastian didn't press her. He simply twisted the python's tail in his fingers, his attention drifting back to her delicate face now and then. Something shifted behind his calm expression, a quiet intensity she couldn't read.
Lucas tilted his head back, blinking his wide, bright eyes up at Stella. He nuzzled his soft, curly hair against her hand in a little plea for affection.
A wave of regret washed over him for his earlier outburst, and he worried that he might have scared her.
He wondered if she thought he was a bad kid now.
"All of your needs will be taken care of," Sebastian stated. "Your only job is to stay here with him."
Noticing Lucas's genuine unhappiness, Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Snowball slipped swiftly from Sebastian's lap and retreated to a corner, coiling itself into a tight, defensive loop.
"John..." Jake leaned in close to John, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me, after watching a ton of dramas, I can already see it.
"Ms. Carter is gonna shove that contract right in Mr. Gray's face, yell 'You think money can buy me?', and run out crying."
John ignored him completely.
As Sebastian's most trusted man, John knew his duty. If Sebastian wanted her to stay, John would make it happen by any means necessary.
"You..." Stella looked up, her voice quiet but steady. Her expression was impossible to read.
Jake nudged John, his eyes bright with expectation.
Sebastian's presence was cold and absolute. Even seated in the wheelchair, he was no less intimidating.
"You have to give me a pen," she said simply. A signature required a pen, and there was none.
Everyone looked at the empty space on the table beside the contract. There was no pen.
Sebastian turned his head toward Jake, who had brought the papers. His handsome face showed no feeling, his gaze as flat and dismissive as if Jake were furniture.
A silent cry for help flashed in Jake's mind as he braced himself for the consequences.
A pen was quickly brought forward. Stella took it, letting it roll once through her fingers in a smooth, practiced motion before holding it still.
She looked directly at Sebastian and said, "Mr. Gray, let me ask you one last question...
"Are you really willing to pay thirty million to keep me here with Lucas, even if I might cause trouble for you later?"
It was a choice she was leaving in his hands.
Even without her memories, something deep inside assured her that she always kept her promises.
Payment meant responsibility.
Sebastian's reply was immediate and straightforward. In one smooth motion, he slid a black bank card across the table toward her. It was an unlimited account, loaded with thirty million dollars.
"The pin is six zeroes," he said, his voice calm and steady.
A small smile touched Stella's lips, and her eyes seemed to brighten. "I have one more condition, though."
"Name it," Sebastian replied. His handsome face remained completely impassive, even as she raised the stakes.
"My condition is admission to Edenbury Academy," Stella said. That elite academy was her price, and she would not be refused.
"Deal," Sebastian replied, sounding like he'd been waiting for her to ask.
His swift agreement settled it. Stella took the pen and signed. "A deal, then."
From that moment on, she saw him as her sponsor.
"Mr. Gray," John's voice cut in, sharp with urgency. "Your grandmother is in the hospital."
The atmosphere in the room turned.
Chapter 4 Go to the Hospital
A cold stillness fell, radiating from Sebastian until the very air felt brittle.
"Go on," Sebastian said, the words a low command.
"Someone told your grandmother about the kidnapping. She collapsed on the spot, her heart giving out from the shock. They've taken her to the hospital," John replied.
His eyes flicked toward Sebastian before he spoke again, his voice lowered, "It doesn't look good."
As she processed the information, Stella felt Lucas grow tense and fearful in her arms. He was whimpering softly against her.
A suffocating tension filled the room, pressing down on everyone until it was almost unbearable.
Just as the silence became too much to endure, Sebastian finally gave the order. "Have the car brought around. We're going to the hospital."
Stella had hoped to stay behind, but Sebastian glanced at her and shattered that hope. "You're going with Lucas."
She accepted it quietly, reasoning that the person who paid was the one who made the rules.
*****
A black Maybach glided smoothly along the highway. Its custom interior was quiet and comfortable.
Stella watched the world pass by outside her window. Had she not just been there, she never would have believed they had come from a private island.
The fact that Sebastian owned an entire island made her wonder just who he really was.
But she had no time to dwell on it. The moment Sebastian settled into the car, she could tell something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
His gaze was heavy and shadowed. The chronic pain in his head, worn thin from years of sleepless nights, was sharpening into something violent.
A dangerous stillness had entered his eyes, and even Lucas had sensed the tension.
"Your pills, Mr. Gray," Jake said quickly from the front seat, turning to pass a small bottle back.
Before he could deliver it, the car hit a rut. The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, stopping near Stella's foot.
She looked down at the bottle, noticing that the label was in a foreign language.
She recognized the class of medication. It was for the mind.
"Could you get that, Ms. Carter?" Jake mouthed, his expression pleading as he pressed his hands together in a silent appeal.
Stella picked it up and held it out to Sebastian. "Here."
In the next instant, Sebastian's hand closed firmly around hers, trapping both her fingers and the bottle in his grip.
Stella looked down at their linked hands but said nothing.
A moment later, Sebastian released her hand and took the medicine bottle without even glancing her way.
Then he rolled down the window and tossed the bottle out.
'He is not right in the head,' Stella thought to herself.
"Drive faster," Sebastian ordered. He leaned back heavily into the leather seat and closed his eyes, his brows pulled together tightly.
"Yes, sir," John answered from the front.
*****
Half an hour earlier, the emergency wing of the private hospital had been sealed off by a cordon of armed guards. No one was getting through.
The news had leaked, and reporters were already gathered outside, their camera flashes lighting up the scene.
"We pay your wages," a shrill voice declared. "How dare you keep the family matriarch from entering?"
Linda Gray held the arm of an elderly woman in a tailored dress, her own posture full of disdain. With a dismissive sway of her hips, she tried to push past the guards.
The woman she was pulling along was Sophia Chapman. Her silver hair was swept into a soft bun, and her simple white dress carried a calm grace that made Linda's tense urgency seem all the more jarring.
They were halted just steps from the door.
"Do you not see who is here?" Linda said, her voice sharp.
Before Linda could utter another word, the air behind them turned cold and dense with warning.
The fight went out of her at once. She turned to find herself locked in a stare that felt fatal.
The wheelchair did nothing to lessen the effect.
"S-Sebastian," she managed, her voice a thin whisper. "You're here."
Sebastian sat still, a dark blanket covering his lap. His face was too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were deep and bruised.
"What did you call me?" Sebastian asked, turning his gaze toward Linda.
The look was so sharp that it made her legs go weak.
Stella watched the reporters from behind Sebastian's wheelchair. Now she understood why he had arranged for Lucas to be taken straight inside.
"Bring them all over here," Sebastian ordered in a flat, calm voice, but Stella could feel something cold and dangerous lying just beneath his quiet surface.
The reporters were quickly ushered toward him.
It had been years since the incident, and though Sebastian had kept out of sight since then, his reputation had never faded.
"Don't worry, Mr. Gray. Every photo will be destroyed," one reporter said quickly, his voice shaking.
They stood there trembling, knowing their jobs weren't worth their lives.
Sebastian stayed quiet, his long fingers slowly spinning the dark beads around his wrist.
The soft clack of the beads was steady, a measured sound. It was the rhythm of Sebastian keeping a darker impulse in check.
Stella's gaze settled on the beads, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.
Then the room filled with a shared, silent gasp.
Her hand, cool and delicate, came to rest over his, stilling the beads beneath her touch.
Standing behind Linda, Sophia watched it all unfold, her sharp eyes taking careful note.
The tension around Sebastian dissolved as quickly as it had gathered.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Let go." It was not the violent reaction everyone had feared.
"Oh, okay," she said and withdrew her hand without pause.
"There is only one matriarch in this family," Sebastian said, his voice low but carrying clearly. "Let that be clear in your accounts."
Jake, a wall of muscle, crushed the reporters' cameras under his boot, making Sebastian's point for him.
The reporters scrambled away without a second thought for their ruined gear. They were simply grateful to escape with their lives.
Linda gritted her teeth as she watched them go, furious but silent. She knew better than to cause a scene.
After all, money meant nothing if she wasn't alive to spend it.
"Sebastian," said Sophia, her voice gentle. Her posture was still elegant, a quiet reminder of the beauty she once was.
"Excuse us," Stella said, not letting her finish. She pushed the wheelchair forward and nearly ran over Linda's foot.
"Watch where you're going!" Linda shrieked, jumping back. The limited-edition Louis Vuitton heels she wore had just arrived that morning, and damaging them would cost far more than she could ever pay back.
Stella stopped and looked at her. The gaze was cool, the kind that seemed to leave no room for lies.
"Very touching. You wore your best shoes to visit the sick," Stella observed, her tone dry and unimpressed.
Linda's face colored with shame. She turned helplessly to Sophia.
"Sophia..." she said, her voice tight.
"Aren't you a bit old to be calling for your elder?" Stella asked, the remark perfectly aimed.
She then gave the wheelchair a gentle push and moved past them without another glance.
*****
Sebastian watched the numbers climb in the quiet elevator. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low. "You had no right to speak for me."
Stella leaned down, her hands coming to rest on the arms of his chair. "A 'thank you' would be more appropriate," she said, meeting his cold stare without flinching.
He was close enough now that she could see the surprising length of his lashes, dark against his skin.
Jake tried his best to disappear into the corner.
Finally, the elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.
Chapter 5 I Can Help Her
Without a word to Sebastian, Stella stepped out of the elevator first, her hands behind her back.
"M-Mr. Gray..." Jake said quietly.
The thought that Stella might have just flirted with him flashed through Jake's mind.
Sebastian's cold glance was enough to silence Jake and send a chill down his back.
*****
Outside the VIP suite, a doctor spoke to Carlos Gray, Sebastian's grandfather, "I'm sorry. We tried everything, but Annette was brought to us too late and has suffered brain damage.
"The medical team agrees that if she doesn't regain consciousness by tonight, we will have to announce brain death."
The doctor was Emily Chase, a longtime family friend of the Grays and one of the country's most accomplished young surgeons.
She removed her mask and let out a tired sigh.
Carlos's cane clattered to the floor. He staggered back, the world swimming before his eyes.
The hall was loud with the cries of the Gray family relatives. Some of the grief looked real, some did not.
"Lucas is a Jinx," Lauren Gray's voice carried over the noise. "Every disaster in this house starts with him."
She pressed a handkerchief that smelled of onion to her eyes, summoning a convincing veil of tears. Through them, she managed to catch her brother Richard Gray's gaze where he stood near Carlos.
After the scandal years ago, their mother, Sophia, had brought them to claim their place as Carlos's children. It was only his wife Annette's fierce opposition that had kept them from being formally recognized all this time.
Now, they saw their chance.
"Dad," Lauren said, her eyes glistening as she looked at Carlos. "You must remove Lucas from the family. Before he brings ruin to us all."
"Is that so?" The quiet question dropped into the room like ice, stopping all sound.
Sebastian's wheelchair rolled forward from the dim edge of the hall. Every face in the family went pale, and the air filled with the sound of stunned breath catching in throats.
"Sebastian," Carlos began, rising quickly to his feet. But the words died in his throat as he met Sebastian's cold stare.
The wheelchair stopped in front of Lauren.
"Look at me," Sebastian said, his voice cold and dangerous. "And say that again."
Lauren was so terrified that her knees buckled. She fell hard to the floor before him, her face damp with cold sweat.
"Who else would like to suggest removing Lucas from the family?" he asked the room.
Sebastian began to turn the black prayer beads around his wrist, his eyes moving slowly across the silent crowd. No one dared meet his gaze.
It was common knowledge that Sebastian only removed those beads when he intended to draw blood.
Just as Sebastian was about to remove his prayer beads, a moment that promised violence, Emily's sharp scream came from Annette's private ward. "What are you doing?"
He went still. Every head turned toward the room.
Its door was now open.
Emily called out clearly from inside, "Carlos, I saw her. She had a needle. She was going to put it in Annette's head."
Within, Stella stood with her wrist caught in Emily's grasp, a silver needle still visible in her hand.
Lucas clung to Emily's coat, his small face distressed.
Carlos's anger found a new target. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is this?"
John, pushing Sebastian's wheelchair, saw Stella and frowned. He was certain she was causing trouble.
Stella's gaze shifted to Sebastian. Her expression smoothed into perfect calm. "Mr. Gray," she said, her voice so steady that it sounded almost detached.
Emily suddenly cried out in pain when Lucas bit her wrist. She let go of Stella immediately.
"You want her to wake up, don't you?" Stella said, pausing briefly. "I can do it."
The room erupted into whispers.
"Are you a doctor?" Emily asked coldly, still cradling her injured wrist.
"No," Stella replied flatly.
"Do you have a license to practice?" Emily pressed.
"No," Stella repeated the word.
Each answer made Emily more scornful. To her, Stella was nothing more than a delusional girl looking for attention.
"Who trained you, then?" Emily asked, her tone thick with sarcasm.
"I just learned," Stella replied, totally unfazed.
Emily didn't hide her contempt this time. She laughed outright. "You really have no idea what you're saying."
Emily found the claim absurd. 'If she's going to make up a story, she might as well have claimed to be a medical genius,' she scoffed to herself.
"Enough," John said quietly, his patience gone. "This isn't a game, Ms. Carter."
He knew better than anyone what Annette meant to Sebastian. To treat her life as a trivial matter was beyond understanding.
"It's not a game," Stella said, her voice low and steady. For the first time, a hard certainty filled her eyes.
She didn't know how she knew, but when she saw Annette, the knowledge came to her with quiet certainty. She could picture exactly where to place the needles, how deep, and at what angle.
"I can help her," Stella said, her gaze locked with Sebastian's. His face gave nothing away, a storm held in check.
"Take her," Carlos ordered, his voice thick with a rage that promised violence.
Before anyone could touch Stella, Lucas stepped in front of Stella, his small body tense and a silent warning growling in his throat.
Sebastian didn't shift. He only raised his eyes to the men advancing on Stella, and the room went still with sudden threat.
"I mean it, Sebastian," Stella said, her words spoken with quiet force.
Stella knew what Annette meant to Lucas and Sebastian. She wasn't one to make promises lightly, but here, she had no proof to offer.
"That's enough," Emily cut in, her voice tight. "Just who do you think you are? A handful of needles? You might as well say you can wake her up right now."
The audacity almost made Emily laugh. 'Does she think she's Shark?' she thought bitterly.
Shark was a freelance surgeon, a medical genius with no ties to any hospital. She was the only doctor in the world with a certified perfect record, and stories claimed her silver needles could work miracles.
She was famously difficult and charged impossible prices, and no one even knew what she looked like. Yet the world's most powerful people still begged for her help.
"You know the cost of failure," Sebastian said, his eyes steady and cold, the air growing heavy as he spoke.
"Mr. Gray!" Emily stared at him in disbelief.
Even Carlos looked shocked.
In the corner, Richard and Lauren exchanged a look of quiet victory.
If Annette died by Stella's hand, their mother's position would be secured, and the family fortune would shift in their direction.
"Mr. Gray, please reconsider it," John said, his voice urgent.
He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Annette's fate in the hands of someone so inexperienced.
Stella looked back at Sebastian, a faint, sure smile on her face. She pulled her hair up into a loose knot with a shark-topped hair tie, and then carefully sterilized the needle.
Her hands moved with a quiet competence that looked strange on someone so young.
John's heart hammered in his chest. "Mr. Gray," he said, his voice strained.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Stella carefully inserted a silver needle into Annette's scalp.
Chapter 1 Wake Up to a New World
Icy water drenched Stella Carter, shocking her awake. She shook her aching head, and as her vision cleared, a deep frown settled on her face.
"She's awake, boss," a male voice said.
Stella glanced around the derelict warehouse, finding herself surrounded by a group of muscular thugs, their eyes cold and dangerous.
"Just bad luck," the boss said. "Once we get the money, we'll take care of you both." He then walked out with his crew to smoke and play cards outside.
Hearing that, Stella turned and met the wide, frightened eyes of a little boy tied up next to her.
The boy was small and pale, maybe four or five years old. A cloth gag filled his mouth, and tears welled up under his long lashes, falling in heavy drops as he stared at her helplessly.
Stella took a long, steadying breath.
Even for someone sharp like her, waking up in a new life to this was beyond belief. She was kidnapped, and to make it worse, she had no memory left.
Stella searched within herself, but her past was a blank slate. She knew her name. She knew she was clever and strong. But that was all.
There was a soft pop-pop as Stella dislocated her wrist and slipped her hand free of the ropes.
The boy next to her paled, forgetting to cry as he watched her reset the joint with another quick, precise twist.
Without a word, Stella reached over and untied him.
Her gaze shifted to the steel pipe the kidnappers had tossed in the corner. A sudden coldness filled the air around her, dropping the temperature in the warehouse with it.
A deep, restless anger tightened in her chest. She needed to move, to let it out.
"At least there's one good thing," she murmured to herself, striding over to lift the steel pipe before turning toward the door.
*****
Far away, on Sandridge Island, the sky hung low and gray.
A hall stood crowded with people, every gaze nervously fixed on the young man seated alone on a leather sofa. He was Sebastian Gray, and no one dared look away.
He wore a simple black shirt, open at the collar. A cigarette glowed between his fingers, its smoke softening the lines of his face.
A string of black prayer beads hung from his wrist.
In front of Sebastian, a man was pinned to the floor.
"Who told you to do this?" Sebastian asked, his voice cool and even.
At his feet, a massive white python slid in slow, silent curves across the floor, its tongue flicking out. The scene was cold and unnatural, a mirror to Sebastian himself.
While he spoke, the python moved onto the sofa and rested its broad head on his thigh.
The man on the floor seemed to collapse in on himself, too terrified to speak a word.
Sebastian's expression didn't change as he slid the beads from his wrist. The simple action sent a chill through the room, and no one dared to make a sound.
He reached down to stroke the python's head, totally unaware of the suffocating weight of his presence.
"Are you hungry?" Sebastian asked, his voice quiet.
The moment he finished speaking, two men stepped forward and hauled the prisoner away.
"Mercy, Mr. Gray. Just one chance..." the voice pleaded desperately, trailing off until nothing remained but silence.
"Mr. Gray, we've got a location," said a bodyguard in black as he stepped quietly to Sebastian's side.
Sebastian's only nephew was missing, and this was the kind of trouble that could turn the world upside down.
When Sebastian looked up, a cold, sharp fear shot through the bodyguard, freezing him where he stood.
"We'll be there in thirty minutes," Sebastian said coldly.
*****
In the old warehouse, the brief but brutal fight was just over.
Stella sat in the only undamaged chair, working the stiffness from her neck with a blank expression. The steel pipe in her hand scraped slowly across the concrete floor, the sound grating and sharp.
She was quiet, her eyes fixed on some distant point.
The once-bold kidnappers now were sprawled on the floor with their hands up, their faces bruised and tear-streaked. They flinched visibly each time the pipe scraped against the ground.
They never thought she'd be this tough. Now they just felt stupid.
Stella sat where the light barely reached, which only made her seem more formidable.
Suddenly, a quiet shuffling sound came from behind her.
It would stop, then start again, full of hesitation.
Then she felt a small, hesitant pull on her sleeve.
Stella went still and looked down to meet the boy's eyes.
He gave her a shy, hopeful smile. With his eyes still red from crying and his long lashes, he looked utterly precious. Sensing his own charm, he leaned his cheek softly into her palm.
"What's your name?" Stella asked, gently pinching his nose.
He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled again, took her hand, and began to write letters carefully on her palm.
"Lucas Gray?" she read his name, realizing he couldn't speak.
When he heard his name, Lucas's face brightened. He quickly held out a tiny phone to her.
He had somehow kept it hidden all along.
The moment Stella took it, the phone rang, the screen flashing "Gray." Without thinking, she pressed it to her ear.
"Had enough fun?" came the low, smooth voice from the other end.
Stella's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Mr. Gray," she said, clearing her throat. "Your kid is with me."
There was only silence from the other side.
Stella, lost in the call, took no notice of the men sprawled on the floor ahead of her. They were staring past her now, their faces ghostly white.
"Is that so?" The words were quiet, but the air in the room grew heavy and still.
"Of course..." Stella began to reply into the phone. Then she paused when she realized that the voice hadn't come from the receiver. It had come from directly behind her.
She turned, and her eyes met a cold, steady gaze.
Stella had to admit, Sebastian was the most striking man she had ever seen.
He stood backlit, a cold outline against the light. Men in dark suits flanked him, but he alone seemed carved from ice, distant and utterly untouchable.
As he lifted his hand, she noticed the black prayer beads around his wrist.
A piercing headache tore through Stella's mind, shattering her focus.
"John," Sebastian said, his voice a cold whisper.
Before Stella could react, a shadow moved behind her. A sharp strike landed on her neck, and she fell, darkness swallowing her whole.
*****
The next morning, Stella stirred in her sleep, feeling something cool and smooth slide against her leg.
A soft, threatening hiss sounded in the quiet room.
She reached out sleepily to push it away, but the moment her fingers touched its skin, her eyes shot open.
She froze as her vision cleared. In the soft morning light, she was staring directly into the black gaze of a huge white python lying right next to her on the bed. It flicked its tongue with a quiet hiss.
"You're awake," Sebastian said.
Chapter 2 A Pet Python
Stella turned toward the sound.
Sebastian sat in the morning light, wearing only a black robe tied loosely at the waist. He was holding a cup of coffee, his long legs stretched out as he read a file open on his lap.
A strand of dark beads hung from his wrist. They swayed gently, giving him a quiet stillness that felt ancient and unreadable.
Stella took him in, and for a moment, she just stared. Then she snapped back to herself, the defiance returning to her eyes as she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth.
"You..." she began.
He looked up then, and their eyes met. That was all it took. The memory of what happened right before she was knocked out rushed back to her in a single, vivid wave.
The large python shifted slowly on the bed, its size making its movements look heavy and almost harmless.
"Snowball," Sebastian said, his voice low and cold.
Stella stared. To her, a man who kept a pet python and gave it a cute name like Snowball was clearly out of the ordinary.
At Sebastian's call, the python slid down from the bed. It wound its way around his legs, coiled onto the sofa behind him, and settled its large head on his shoulder with a soft nudge.
"You're Lucas's father?" Stella asked.
Stella knew she had to explain. She wasn't the kidnapper, but a victim herself.
Sebastian stroked the python's head, his gaze locked on Stella's face as she spoke.
His expression was cool and unreadable, and the casual way he handled the massive python sent a shiver through her.
The folder on Sebastian's lap slipped to the floor, its contents spilling out. Photographs scattered across the tiles, and Stella's words died in her throat.
Every single picture was of her, from childhood through adolescence to recent months. It was a complete dossier on her life.
He had known she was innocent this whole time. Yet he'd sat there silently, letting her talk, when he'd had the truth in his lap all along.
It hit her then that he was testing her. His calculation ran deeper than she had imagined.
"Is this really fun for you, Mr. Gray?" Stella squinted, her slender frame slouched lazily against the headboard.
Sebastian didn't answer. He merely gestured toward the other side of the room.
Stella glanced toward where he pointed and met her own eyes in the mirror.
Her face was a mess of thick, smudged smoky makeup, her ears cluttered with several skull-shaped clips. It was pure punk overload.
She stared at the reflection, her fingers tracing the line of her brow. The cheap makeup was caked on thick, but beneath it all, the elegant lines of her face were still there. It gave her a look that was naturally cool and reserved.
"Mr. Gray..." She threw off the covers, stood up barefoot, and moved with a swagger. "I'm getting this off."
*****
In the bathroom, Stella cleared the fog from the mirror. Her flawless skin was flushed and dewy from the shower, giving her a fresh, delicate beauty.
Her face was bare, without a trace of makeup. In the stillness, her captivating eyes blinked slowly, their gaze catching the light with a faint, honeyed warmth.
She seemed calm, but there was a cool distance in her expression that kept people away.
A small mole rested on her collarbone.
Her hair, freshly dried, fell in soft, shiny waves all the way down her back.
Yet Stella's mind was empty. She knew her name, but nothing else about who she was.
After she got dressed and walked out, both Sebastian and the large white python were gone.
Only a mess of photos and files remained, scattered across the floor.
"Stella Carter... eighteen," she murmured to herself, her slender fingers turning the pages as she scanned the file's sparse lines.
The records stated she was a former student of Central High School, expelled just last week for failing grades and excessive absences. She had a reputation as a rebel, and her home life was reportedly strained.
It also revealed that her younger sister, Hazel Carter, attended Edenbury Academy, the city's most elite and costly private school.
Stella turned the page, and a chill settled in her eyes as she read that she was not the Carters' real daughter.
The Carters had known the truth all along, which was why they had always treated the two sisters so differently.
What made no sense was the money. The Carters were not wealthy, yet they managed to pay for Edenbury Academy's enormous fees year after year, a sum that ran into the millions.
She was still turning this over in her mind when a rapid, anxious knock came at her bedroom door.
"Ms. Carter!" came the tense voice of Jake Yates, Sebastian's other subordinate, as he pounded hard on the wood.
He started to speak again as the door suddenly opened from the inside.
His raised fist almost struck her, but Stella moved swiftly out of the way.
He froze, his words dying on his lips as he got a clear look at her face.
He stared, hardly believing this was the same girl Sebastian had brought home yesterday, the one with messy, smudged makeup. Now, she looked clear and quietly beautiful.
"So you're sending me away," Stella said, her voice steady and without much emotion.
Lucas was safe now. Even if Sebastian had said nothing, she would have been ready to go.
"Ms. Carter, please follow me," Jake said, shaking his head as he remembered his actual task.
The memory of Lucas's demolished room was enough to make his blood run cold.
He would gladly trade a month in combat for a single day of babysitting duty.
"Has something happened to him?" Stella asked, a sudden fear gripping her as she followed Jake to the elevator.
Lucas's room was on the third floor. When the elevator doors opened, a vase shot past them and exploded against the wall. The floor was a sea of wreckage, with no clear path through.
Stella stared, utterly speechless.
"He did this alone?" Stella asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. The devastation was absolute.
Jake could only give a stiff, helpless nod.
Stella turned and entered the room. The scene grew more chaotic with every step.
The servants stood quietly nearby, their silence a clear sign they had seen this all before.
"Bring in a fresh set for him to break," Sebastian ordered. His tone was icy and held no mercy for the five-year-old boy, cutting with a ruthless edge.
Soon, a servant was replacing the broken items on the shelves with new ones, each piece a costly antique.
Lucas grunted angrily, swinging his small fists to warn anyone who tried to come close.
The white python, Snowball, coiled protectively around Lucas, letting the boy rest against his scales.
Seeing Lucas on the verge of total exhaustion, Stella turned a cold glare toward Sebastian. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded.
Stella's expression tightened as Lucas started to move, her eyes flashing with immediate concern.
He was barefoot on a floor littered with glass. One wrong step could cut him.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming to you," she said firmly.
As Stella approached, Lucas's face lit up for a moment before his eyes glistened with tears.
His chin trembled as he reached his small hands out to her.
Chapter 3 Paid to Stay
Silent sobs shook Lucas's little frame, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. His need for comfort was clear.
"Do not pick him up," Sebastian ordered, his icy voice cutting through the room and deepening the tension.
Stella acted as if she hadn't heard him. She leaned down, shielding Lucas's ears with her hands, and whispered softly to him, "Ignore that weirdo."
Jake was trying to ease his way out of the room when his brother John shot him a look that could freeze fire. He stopped moving at once, his face settling into a resigned frown.
He was trapped. When forces like these clashed, the bystanders never fared well.
"Stella," Sebastian said, a slow and dangerous smile crossing his face. He had never met anyone brave enough to defy him so openly.
"You're not a young man, Mr. Gray. Why bother fighting with a child?" Stella's voice was laced with clear sarcasm.
She easily lifted Lucas into her arms and held him close, all while giving Sebastian a sharp, challenging look.
Sebastian's expression turned cold, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, unyielding intensity.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone watching held their breath, sharing the same silent thought that Stella was either fearless or foolish.
A long moment passed before Sebastian finally moved, just a slight shift of his fingers. It was enough. The tension broke, and everyone around them let out a slow, collective breath. The sudden shift in tension felt utterly surreal.
Servants rushed forward, quietly clearing the wreckage from the floor before slipping out again.
With Lucas in her arms, Stella turned to leave.
As Stella turned to leave, John blocked her path at the door. "You have not been dismissed by Mr. Gray, Ms. Carter," he stated flatly.
Stella recognized him immediately as the man who had knocked her unconscious in the warehouse. She regarded him with a thoughtful look.
Lucas huffed and tried to bite at John's hand, but Stella gently caught his chin and held his mouth closed.
Lucas blinked, and then tilted his head to the side, looking suddenly as soft and harmless as a baby bird.
"Alright. I'm not going," Stella replied calmly. She carried Lucas back into the room and took a seat directly facing Sebastian.
As she sat, a quiet realization stopped her. Sebastian was in a wheelchair, a detail she had missed until now. This didn't fit, since she clearly remembered him standing in that warehouse.
She wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her.
"You've never asked my name," Sebastian said, his voice low. His eyes, steady and inscrutable, stayed fixed on Stella.
His face revealed nothing, his sharp, handsome features a mask of cool control. He held himself with the calm authority of someone accustomed to being in charge.
Jake's eyes lit up at the comment. He instinctively glanced toward John with an openly curious look.
John answered with another sharp look, a clear command for his brother to stop.
"Does it matter?" Stella said without thinking, her face showing her genuine confusion.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
A moment later, sensing her own bluntness, she added with a casual shrug, "I'm leaving soon anyway. Does it even matter what your name is, Mr. Gray?"
The air in the room seemed to grow even heavier.
Jake hunched his shoulders slightly, watching Stella. In his eyes, her manner was straightforward to the point of being almost tactless.
Sebastian's voice was quiet. "I didn't give you permission to go."
He watched her with a look that felt too deep, too knowing. His hand moved slowly over the python's head as it lay across his lap, the gesture steady and unnervingly patient.
Stella's face showed nothing, but she was listening, weighing each word.
Then a contract was set down in front of her.
"Stay and look after him," he said. "The offer is thirty million dollars." He said it plainly, as if naming a price for an ordinary service.
Stella remained silent, though her lashes lowered for a beat.
Sebastian didn't press her. He simply twisted the python's tail in his fingers, his attention drifting back to her delicate face now and then. Something shifted behind his calm expression, a quiet intensity she couldn't read.
Lucas tilted his head back, blinking his wide, bright eyes up at Stella. He nuzzled his soft, curly hair against her hand in a little plea for affection.
A wave of regret washed over him for his earlier outburst, and he worried that he might have scared her.
He wondered if she thought he was a bad kid now.
"All of your needs will be taken care of," Sebastian stated. "Your only job is to stay here with him."
Noticing Lucas's genuine unhappiness, Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Snowball slipped swiftly from Sebastian's lap and retreated to a corner, coiling itself into a tight, defensive loop.
"John..." Jake leaned in close to John, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me, after watching a ton of dramas, I can already see it.
"Ms. Carter is gonna shove that contract right in Mr. Gray's face, yell 'You think money can buy me?', and run out crying."
John ignored him completely.
As Sebastian's most trusted man, John knew his duty. If Sebastian wanted her to stay, John would make it happen by any means necessary.
"You..." Stella looked up, her voice quiet but steady. Her expression was impossible to read.
Jake nudged John, his eyes bright with expectation.
Sebastian's presence was cold and absolute. Even seated in the wheelchair, he was no less intimidating.
"You have to give me a pen," she said simply. A signature required a pen, and there was none.
Everyone looked at the empty space on the table beside the contract. There was no pen.
Sebastian turned his head toward Jake, who had brought the papers. His handsome face showed no feeling, his gaze as flat and dismissive as if Jake were furniture.
A silent cry for help flashed in Jake's mind as he braced himself for the consequences.
A pen was quickly brought forward. Stella took it, letting it roll once through her fingers in a smooth, practiced motion before holding it still.
She looked directly at Sebastian and said, "Mr. Gray, let me ask you one last question...
"Are you really willing to pay thirty million to keep me here with Lucas, even if I might cause trouble for you later?"
It was a choice she was leaving in his hands.
Even without her memories, something deep inside assured her that she always kept her promises.
Payment meant responsibility.
Sebastian's reply was immediate and straightforward. In one smooth motion, he slid a black bank card across the table toward her. It was an unlimited account, loaded with thirty million dollars.
"The pin is six zeroes," he said, his voice calm and steady.
A small smile touched Stella's lips, and her eyes seemed to brighten. "I have one more condition, though."
"Name it," Sebastian replied. His handsome face remained completely impassive, even as she raised the stakes.
"My condition is admission to Edenbury Academy," Stella said. That elite academy was her price, and she would not be refused.
"Deal," Sebastian replied, sounding like he'd been waiting for her to ask.
His swift agreement settled it. Stella took the pen and signed. "A deal, then."
From that moment on, she saw him as her sponsor.
"Mr. Gray," John's voice cut in, sharp with urgency. "Your grandmother is in the hospital."
The atmosphere in the room turned.
Chapter 4 Go to the Hospital
A cold stillness fell, radiating from Sebastian until the very air felt brittle.
"Go on," Sebastian said, the words a low command.
"Someone told your grandmother about the kidnapping. She collapsed on the spot, her heart giving out from the shock. They've taken her to the hospital," John replied.
His eyes flicked toward Sebastian before he spoke again, his voice lowered, "It doesn't look good."
As she processed the information, Stella felt Lucas grow tense and fearful in her arms. He was whimpering softly against her.
A suffocating tension filled the room, pressing down on everyone until it was almost unbearable.
Just as the silence became too much to endure, Sebastian finally gave the order. "Have the car brought around. We're going to the hospital."
Stella had hoped to stay behind, but Sebastian glanced at her and shattered that hope. "You're going with Lucas."
She accepted it quietly, reasoning that the person who paid was the one who made the rules.
*****
A black Maybach glided smoothly along the highway. Its custom interior was quiet and comfortable.
Stella watched the world pass by outside her window. Had she not just been there, she never would have believed they had come from a private island.
The fact that Sebastian owned an entire island made her wonder just who he really was.
But she had no time to dwell on it. The moment Sebastian settled into the car, she could tell something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
His gaze was heavy and shadowed. The chronic pain in his head, worn thin from years of sleepless nights, was sharpening into something violent.
A dangerous stillness had entered his eyes, and even Lucas had sensed the tension.
"Your pills, Mr. Gray," Jake said quickly from the front seat, turning to pass a small bottle back.
Before he could deliver it, the car hit a rut. The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, stopping near Stella's foot.
She looked down at the bottle, noticing that the label was in a foreign language.
She recognized the class of medication. It was for the mind.
"Could you get that, Ms. Carter?" Jake mouthed, his expression pleading as he pressed his hands together in a silent appeal.
Stella picked it up and held it out to Sebastian. "Here."
In the next instant, Sebastian's hand closed firmly around hers, trapping both her fingers and the bottle in his grip.
Stella looked down at their linked hands but said nothing.
A moment later, Sebastian released her hand and took the medicine bottle without even glancing her way.
Then he rolled down the window and tossed the bottle out.
'He is not right in the head,' Stella thought to herself.
"Drive faster," Sebastian ordered. He leaned back heavily into the leather seat and closed his eyes, his brows pulled together tightly.
"Yes, sir," John answered from the front.
*****
Half an hour earlier, the emergency wing of the private hospital had been sealed off by a cordon of armed guards. No one was getting through.
The news had leaked, and reporters were already gathered outside, their camera flashes lighting up the scene.
"We pay your wages," a shrill voice declared. "How dare you keep the family matriarch from entering?"
Linda Gray held the arm of an elderly woman in a tailored dress, her own posture full of disdain. With a dismissive sway of her hips, she tried to push past the guards.
The woman she was pulling along was Sophia Chapman. Her silver hair was swept into a soft bun, and her simple white dress carried a calm grace that made Linda's tense urgency seem all the more jarring.
They were halted just steps from the door.
"Do you not see who is here?" Linda said, her voice sharp.
Before Linda could utter another word, the air behind them turned cold and dense with warning.
The fight went out of her at once. She turned to find herself locked in a stare that felt fatal.
The wheelchair did nothing to lessen the effect.
"S-Sebastian," she managed, her voice a thin whisper. "You're here."
Sebastian sat still, a dark blanket covering his lap. His face was too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were deep and bruised.
"What did you call me?" Sebastian asked, turning his gaze toward Linda.
The look was so sharp that it made her legs go weak.
Stella watched the reporters from behind Sebastian's wheelchair. Now she understood why he had arranged for Lucas to be taken straight inside.
"Bring them all over here," Sebastian ordered in a flat, calm voice, but Stella could feel something cold and dangerous lying just beneath his quiet surface.
The reporters were quickly ushered toward him.
It had been years since the incident, and though Sebastian had kept out of sight since then, his reputation had never faded.
"Don't worry, Mr. Gray. Every photo will be destroyed," one reporter said quickly, his voice shaking.
They stood there trembling, knowing their jobs weren't worth their lives.
Sebastian stayed quiet, his long fingers slowly spinning the dark beads around his wrist.
The soft clack of the beads was steady, a measured sound. It was the rhythm of Sebastian keeping a darker impulse in check.
Stella's gaze settled on the beads, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.
Then the room filled with a shared, silent gasp.
Her hand, cool and delicate, came to rest over his, stilling the beads beneath her touch.
Standing behind Linda, Sophia watched it all unfold, her sharp eyes taking careful note.
The tension around Sebastian dissolved as quickly as it had gathered.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Let go." It was not the violent reaction everyone had feared.
"Oh, okay," she said and withdrew her hand without pause.
"There is only one matriarch in this family," Sebastian said, his voice low but carrying clearly. "Let that be clear in your accounts."
Jake, a wall of muscle, crushed the reporters' cameras under his boot, making Sebastian's point for him.
The reporters scrambled away without a second thought for their ruined gear. They were simply grateful to escape with their lives.
Linda gritted her teeth as she watched them go, furious but silent. She knew better than to cause a scene.
After all, money meant nothing if she wasn't alive to spend it.
"Sebastian," said Sophia, her voice gentle. Her posture was still elegant, a quiet reminder of the beauty she once was.
"Excuse us," Stella said, not letting her finish. She pushed the wheelchair forward and nearly ran over Linda's foot.
"Watch where you're going!" Linda shrieked, jumping back. The limited-edition Louis Vuitton heels she wore had just arrived that morning, and damaging them would cost far more than she could ever pay back.
Stella stopped and looked at her. The gaze was cool, the kind that seemed to leave no room for lies.
"Very touching. You wore your best shoes to visit the sick," Stella observed, her tone dry and unimpressed.
Linda's face colored with shame. She turned helplessly to Sophia.
"Sophia..." she said, her voice tight.
"Aren't you a bit old to be calling for your elder?" Stella asked, the remark perfectly aimed.
She then gave the wheelchair a gentle push and moved past them without another glance.
*****
Sebastian watched the numbers climb in the quiet elevator. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low. "You had no right to speak for me."
Stella leaned down, her hands coming to rest on the arms of his chair. "A 'thank you' would be more appropriate," she said, meeting his cold stare without flinching.
He was close enough now that she could see the surprising length of his lashes, dark against his skin.
Jake tried his best to disappear into the corner.
Finally, the elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.
Chapter 5 I Can Help Her
Without a word to Sebastian, Stella stepped out of the elevator first, her hands behind her back.
"M-Mr. Gray..." Jake said quietly.
The thought that Stella might have just flirted with him flashed through Jake's mind.
Sebastian's cold glance was enough to silence Jake and send a chill down his back.
*****
Outside the VIP suite, a doctor spoke to Carlos Gray, Sebastian's grandfather, "I'm sorry. We tried everything, but Annette was brought to us too late and has suffered brain damage.
"The medical team agrees that if she doesn't regain consciousness by tonight, we will have to announce brain death."
The doctor was Emily Chase, a longtime family friend of the Grays and one of the country's most accomplished young surgeons.
She removed her mask and let out a tired sigh.
Carlos's cane clattered to the floor. He staggered back, the world swimming before his eyes.
The hall was loud with the cries of the Gray family relatives. Some of the grief looked real, some did not.
"Lucas is a Jinx," Lauren Gray's voice carried over the noise. "Every disaster in this house starts with him."
She pressed a handkerchief that smelled of onion to her eyes, summoning a convincing veil of tears. Through them, she managed to catch her brother Richard Gray's gaze where he stood near Carlos.
After the scandal years ago, their mother, Sophia, had brought them to claim their place as Carlos's children. It was only his wife Annette's fierce opposition that had kept them from being formally recognized all this time.
Now, they saw their chance.
"Dad," Lauren said, her eyes glistening as she looked at Carlos. "You must remove Lucas from the family. Before he brings ruin to us all."
"Is that so?" The quiet question dropped into the room like ice, stopping all sound.
Sebastian's wheelchair rolled forward from the dim edge of the hall. Every face in the family went pale, and the air filled with the sound of stunned breath catching in throats.
"Sebastian," Carlos began, rising quickly to his feet. But the words died in his throat as he met Sebastian's cold stare.
The wheelchair stopped in front of Lauren.
"Look at me," Sebastian said, his voice cold and dangerous. "And say that again."
Lauren was so terrified that her knees buckled. She fell hard to the floor before him, her face damp with cold sweat.
"Who else would like to suggest removing Lucas from the family?" he asked the room.
Sebastian began to turn the black prayer beads around his wrist, his eyes moving slowly across the silent crowd. No one dared meet his gaze.
It was common knowledge that Sebastian only removed those beads when he intended to draw blood.
Just as Sebastian was about to remove his prayer beads, a moment that promised violence, Emily's sharp scream came from Annette's private ward. "What are you doing?"
He went still. Every head turned toward the room.
Its door was now open.
Emily called out clearly from inside, "Carlos, I saw her. She had a needle. She was going to put it in Annette's head."
Within, Stella stood with her wrist caught in Emily's grasp, a silver needle still visible in her hand.
Lucas clung to Emily's coat, his small face distressed.
Carlos's anger found a new target. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is this?"
John, pushing Sebastian's wheelchair, saw Stella and frowned. He was certain she was causing trouble.
Stella's gaze shifted to Sebastian. Her expression smoothed into perfect calm. "Mr. Gray," she said, her voice so steady that it sounded almost detached.
Emily suddenly cried out in pain when Lucas bit her wrist. She let go of Stella immediately.
"You want her to wake up, don't you?" Stella said, pausing briefly. "I can do it."
The room erupted into whispers.
"Are you a doctor?" Emily asked coldly, still cradling her injured wrist.
"No," Stella replied flatly.
"Do you have a license to practice?" Emily pressed.
"No," Stella repeated the word.
Each answer made Emily more scornful. To her, Stella was nothing more than a delusional girl looking for attention.
"Who trained you, then?" Emily asked, her tone thick with sarcasm.
"I just learned," Stella replied, totally unfazed.
Emily didn't hide her contempt this time. She laughed outright. "You really have no idea what you're saying."
Emily found the claim absurd. 'If she's going to make up a story, she might as well have claimed to be a medical genius,' she scoffed to herself.
"Enough," John said quietly, his patience gone. "This isn't a game, Ms. Carter."
He knew better than anyone what Annette meant to Sebastian. To treat her life as a trivial matter was beyond understanding.
"It's not a game," Stella said, her voice low and steady. For the first time, a hard certainty filled her eyes.
She didn't know how she knew, but when she saw Annette, the knowledge came to her with quiet certainty. She could picture exactly where to place the needles, how deep, and at what angle.
"I can help her," Stella said, her gaze locked with Sebastian's. His face gave nothing away, a storm held in check.
"Take her," Carlos ordered, his voice thick with a rage that promised violence.
Before anyone could touch Stella, Lucas stepped in front of Stella, his small body tense and a silent warning growling in his throat.
Sebastian didn't shift. He only raised his eyes to the men advancing on Stella, and the room went still with sudden threat.
"I mean it, Sebastian," Stella said, her words spoken with quiet force.
Stella knew what Annette meant to Lucas and Sebastian. She wasn't one to make promises lightly, but here, she had no proof to offer.
"That's enough," Emily cut in, her voice tight. "Just who do you think you are? A handful of needles? You might as well say you can wake her up right now."
The audacity almost made Emily laugh. 'Does she think she's Shark?' she thought bitterly.
Shark was a freelance surgeon, a medical genius with no ties to any hospital. She was the only doctor in the world with a certified perfect record, and stories claimed her silver needles could work miracles.
She was famously difficult and charged impossible prices, and no one even knew what she looked like. Yet the world's most powerful people still begged for her help.
"You know the cost of failure," Sebastian said, his eyes steady and cold, the air growing heavy as he spoke.
"Mr. Gray!" Emily stared at him in disbelief.
Even Carlos looked shocked.
In the corner, Richard and Lauren exchanged a look of quiet victory.
If Annette died by Stella's hand, their mother's position would be secured, and the family fortune would shift in their direction.
"Mr. Gray, please reconsider it," John said, his voice urgent.
He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Annette's fate in the hands of someone so inexperienced.
Stella looked back at Sebastian, a faint, sure smile on her face. She pulled her hair up into a loose knot with a shark-topped hair tie, and then carefully sterilized the needle.
Her hands moved with a quiet competence that looked strange on someone so young.
John's heart hammered in his chest. "Mr. Gray," he said, his voice strained.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Stella carefully inserted a silver needle into Annette's scalp.
Chapter 1 Wake Up to a New World
Icy water drenched Stella Carter, shocking her awake. She shook her aching head, and as her vision cleared, a deep frown settled on her face.
"She's awake, boss," a male voice said.
Stella glanced around the derelict warehouse, finding herself surrounded by a group of muscular thugs, their eyes cold and dangerous.
"Just bad luck," the boss said. "Once we get the money, we'll take care of you both." He then walked out with his crew to smoke and play cards outside.
Hearing that, Stella turned and met the wide, frightened eyes of a little boy tied up next to her.
The boy was small and pale, maybe four or five years old. A cloth gag filled his mouth, and tears welled up under his long lashes, falling in heavy drops as he stared at her helplessly.
Stella took a long, steadying breath.
Even for someone sharp like her, waking up in a new life to this was beyond belief. She was kidnapped, and to make it worse, she had no memory left.
Stella searched within herself, but her past was a blank slate. She knew her name. She knew she was clever and strong. But that was all.
There was a soft pop-pop as Stella dislocated her wrist and slipped her hand free of the ropes.
The boy next to her paled, forgetting to cry as he watched her reset the joint with another quick, precise twist.
Without a word, Stella reached over and untied him.
Her gaze shifted to the steel pipe the kidnappers had tossed in the corner. A sudden coldness filled the air around her, dropping the temperature in the warehouse with it.
A deep, restless anger tightened in her chest. She needed to move, to let it out.
"At least there's one good thing," she murmured to herself, striding over to lift the steel pipe before turning toward the door.
*****
Far away, on Sandridge Island, the sky hung low and gray.
A hall stood crowded with people, every gaze nervously fixed on the young man seated alone on a leather sofa. He was Sebastian Gray, and no one dared look away.
He wore a simple black shirt, open at the collar. A cigarette glowed between his fingers, its smoke softening the lines of his face.
A string of black prayer beads hung from his wrist.
In front of Sebastian, a man was pinned to the floor.
"Who told you to do this?" Sebastian asked, his voice cool and even.
At his feet, a massive white python slid in slow, silent curves across the floor, its tongue flicking out. The scene was cold and unnatural, a mirror to Sebastian himself.
While he spoke, the python moved onto the sofa and rested its broad head on his thigh.
The man on the floor seemed to collapse in on himself, too terrified to speak a word.
Sebastian's expression didn't change as he slid the beads from his wrist. The simple action sent a chill through the room, and no one dared to make a sound.
He reached down to stroke the python's head, totally unaware of the suffocating weight of his presence.
"Are you hungry?" Sebastian asked, his voice quiet.
The moment he finished speaking, two men stepped forward and hauled the prisoner away.
"Mercy, Mr. Gray. Just one chance..." the voice pleaded desperately, trailing off until nothing remained but silence.
"Mr. Gray, we've got a location," said a bodyguard in black as he stepped quietly to Sebastian's side.
Sebastian's only nephew was missing, and this was the kind of trouble that could turn the world upside down.
When Sebastian looked up, a cold, sharp fear shot through the bodyguard, freezing him where he stood.
"We'll be there in thirty minutes," Sebastian said coldly.
*****
In the old warehouse, the brief but brutal fight was just over.
Stella sat in the only undamaged chair, working the stiffness from her neck with a blank expression. The steel pipe in her hand scraped slowly across the concrete floor, the sound grating and sharp.
She was quiet, her eyes fixed on some distant point.
The once-bold kidnappers now were sprawled on the floor with their hands up, their faces bruised and tear-streaked. They flinched visibly each time the pipe scraped against the ground.
They never thought she'd be this tough. Now they just felt stupid.
Stella sat where the light barely reached, which only made her seem more formidable.
Suddenly, a quiet shuffling sound came from behind her.
It would stop, then start again, full of hesitation.
Then she felt a small, hesitant pull on her sleeve.
Stella went still and looked down to meet the boy's eyes.
He gave her a shy, hopeful smile. With his eyes still red from crying and his long lashes, he looked utterly precious. Sensing his own charm, he leaned his cheek softly into her palm.
"What's your name?" Stella asked, gently pinching his nose.
He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled again, took her hand, and began to write letters carefully on her palm.
"Lucas Gray?" she read his name, realizing he couldn't speak.
When he heard his name, Lucas's face brightened. He quickly held out a tiny phone to her.
He had somehow kept it hidden all along.
The moment Stella took it, the phone rang, the screen flashing "Gray." Without thinking, she pressed it to her ear.
"Had enough fun?" came the low, smooth voice from the other end.
Stella's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Mr. Gray," she said, clearing her throat. "Your kid is with me."
There was only silence from the other side.
Stella, lost in the call, took no notice of the men sprawled on the floor ahead of her. They were staring past her now, their faces ghostly white.
"Is that so?" The words were quiet, but the air in the room grew heavy and still.
"Of course..." Stella began to reply into the phone. Then she paused when she realized that the voice hadn't come from the receiver. It had come from directly behind her.
She turned, and her eyes met a cold, steady gaze.
Stella had to admit, Sebastian was the most striking man she had ever seen.
He stood backlit, a cold outline against the light. Men in dark suits flanked him, but he alone seemed carved from ice, distant and utterly untouchable.
As he lifted his hand, she noticed the black prayer beads around his wrist.
A piercing headache tore through Stella's mind, shattering her focus.
"John," Sebastian said, his voice a cold whisper.
Before Stella could react, a shadow moved behind her. A sharp strike landed on her neck, and she fell, darkness swallowing her whole.
*****
The next morning, Stella stirred in her sleep, feeling something cool and smooth slide against her leg.
A soft, threatening hiss sounded in the quiet room.
She reached out sleepily to push it away, but the moment her fingers touched its skin, her eyes shot open.
She froze as her vision cleared. In the soft morning light, she was staring directly into the black gaze of a huge white python lying right next to her on the bed. It flicked its tongue with a quiet hiss.
"You're awake," Sebastian said.
Chapter 2 A Pet Python
Stella turned toward the sound.
Sebastian sat in the morning light, wearing only a black robe tied loosely at the waist. He was holding a cup of coffee, his long legs stretched out as he read a file open on his lap.
A strand of dark beads hung from his wrist. They swayed gently, giving him a quiet stillness that felt ancient and unreadable.
Stella took him in, and for a moment, she just stared. Then she snapped back to herself, the defiance returning to her eyes as she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth.
"You..." she began.
He looked up then, and their eyes met. That was all it took. The memory of what happened right before she was knocked out rushed back to her in a single, vivid wave.
The large python shifted slowly on the bed, its size making its movements look heavy and almost harmless.
"Snowball," Sebastian said, his voice low and cold.
Stella stared. To her, a man who kept a pet python and gave it a cute name like Snowball was clearly out of the ordinary.
At Sebastian's call, the python slid down from the bed. It wound its way around his legs, coiled onto the sofa behind him, and settled its large head on his shoulder with a soft nudge.
"You're Lucas's father?" Stella asked.
Stella knew she had to explain. She wasn't the kidnapper, but a victim herself.
Sebastian stroked the python's head, his gaze locked on Stella's face as she spoke.
His expression was cool and unreadable, and the casual way he handled the massive python sent a shiver through her.
The folder on Sebastian's lap slipped to the floor, its contents spilling out. Photographs scattered across the tiles, and Stella's words died in her throat.
Every single picture was of her, from childhood through adolescence to recent months. It was a complete dossier on her life.
He had known she was innocent this whole time. Yet he'd sat there silently, letting her talk, when he'd had the truth in his lap all along.
It hit her then that he was testing her. His calculation ran deeper than she had imagined.
"Is this really fun for you, Mr. Gray?" Stella squinted, her slender frame slouched lazily against the headboard.
Sebastian didn't answer. He merely gestured toward the other side of the room.
Stella glanced toward where he pointed and met her own eyes in the mirror.
Her face was a mess of thick, smudged smoky makeup, her ears cluttered with several skull-shaped clips. It was pure punk overload.
She stared at the reflection, her fingers tracing the line of her brow. The cheap makeup was caked on thick, but beneath it all, the elegant lines of her face were still there. It gave her a look that was naturally cool and reserved.
"Mr. Gray..." She threw off the covers, stood up barefoot, and moved with a swagger. "I'm getting this off."
*****
In the bathroom, Stella cleared the fog from the mirror. Her flawless skin was flushed and dewy from the shower, giving her a fresh, delicate beauty.
Her face was bare, without a trace of makeup. In the stillness, her captivating eyes blinked slowly, their gaze catching the light with a faint, honeyed warmth.
She seemed calm, but there was a cool distance in her expression that kept people away.
A small mole rested on her collarbone.
Her hair, freshly dried, fell in soft, shiny waves all the way down her back.
Yet Stella's mind was empty. She knew her name, but nothing else about who she was.
After she got dressed and walked out, both Sebastian and the large white python were gone.
Only a mess of photos and files remained, scattered across the floor.
"Stella Carter... eighteen," she murmured to herself, her slender fingers turning the pages as she scanned the file's sparse lines.
The records stated she was a former student of Central High School, expelled just last week for failing grades and excessive absences. She had a reputation as a rebel, and her home life was reportedly strained.
It also revealed that her younger sister, Hazel Carter, attended Edenbury Academy, the city's most elite and costly private school.
Stella turned the page, and a chill settled in her eyes as she read that she was not the Carters' real daughter.
The Carters had known the truth all along, which was why they had always treated the two sisters so differently.
What made no sense was the money. The Carters were not wealthy, yet they managed to pay for Edenbury Academy's enormous fees year after year, a sum that ran into the millions.
She was still turning this over in her mind when a rapid, anxious knock came at her bedroom door.
"Ms. Carter!" came the tense voice of Jake Yates, Sebastian's other subordinate, as he pounded hard on the wood.
He started to speak again as the door suddenly opened from the inside.
His raised fist almost struck her, but Stella moved swiftly out of the way.
He froze, his words dying on his lips as he got a clear look at her face.
He stared, hardly believing this was the same girl Sebastian had brought home yesterday, the one with messy, smudged makeup. Now, she looked clear and quietly beautiful.
"So you're sending me away," Stella said, her voice steady and without much emotion.
Lucas was safe now. Even if Sebastian had said nothing, she would have been ready to go.
"Ms. Carter, please follow me," Jake said, shaking his head as he remembered his actual task.
The memory of Lucas's demolished room was enough to make his blood run cold.
He would gladly trade a month in combat for a single day of babysitting duty.
"Has something happened to him?" Stella asked, a sudden fear gripping her as she followed Jake to the elevator.
Lucas's room was on the third floor. When the elevator doors opened, a vase shot past them and exploded against the wall. The floor was a sea of wreckage, with no clear path through.
Stella stared, utterly speechless.
"He did this alone?" Stella asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. The devastation was absolute.
Jake could only give a stiff, helpless nod.
Stella turned and entered the room. The scene grew more chaotic with every step.
The servants stood quietly nearby, their silence a clear sign they had seen this all before.
"Bring in a fresh set for him to break," Sebastian ordered. His tone was icy and held no mercy for the five-year-old boy, cutting with a ruthless edge.
Soon, a servant was replacing the broken items on the shelves with new ones, each piece a costly antique.
Lucas grunted angrily, swinging his small fists to warn anyone who tried to come close.
The white python, Snowball, coiled protectively around Lucas, letting the boy rest against his scales.
Seeing Lucas on the verge of total exhaustion, Stella turned a cold glare toward Sebastian. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded.
Stella's expression tightened as Lucas started to move, her eyes flashing with immediate concern.
He was barefoot on a floor littered with glass. One wrong step could cut him.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming to you," she said firmly.
As Stella approached, Lucas's face lit up for a moment before his eyes glistened with tears.
His chin trembled as he reached his small hands out to her.
Chapter 3 Paid to Stay
Silent sobs shook Lucas's little frame, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. His need for comfort was clear.
"Do not pick him up," Sebastian ordered, his icy voice cutting through the room and deepening the tension.
Stella acted as if she hadn't heard him. She leaned down, shielding Lucas's ears with her hands, and whispered softly to him, "Ignore that weirdo."
Jake was trying to ease his way out of the room when his brother John shot him a look that could freeze fire. He stopped moving at once, his face settling into a resigned frown.
He was trapped. When forces like these clashed, the bystanders never fared well.
"Stella," Sebastian said, a slow and dangerous smile crossing his face. He had never met anyone brave enough to defy him so openly.
"You're not a young man, Mr. Gray. Why bother fighting with a child?" Stella's voice was laced with clear sarcasm.
She easily lifted Lucas into her arms and held him close, all while giving Sebastian a sharp, challenging look.
Sebastian's expression turned cold, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, unyielding intensity.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone watching held their breath, sharing the same silent thought that Stella was either fearless or foolish.
A long moment passed before Sebastian finally moved, just a slight shift of his fingers. It was enough. The tension broke, and everyone around them let out a slow, collective breath. The sudden shift in tension felt utterly surreal.
Servants rushed forward, quietly clearing the wreckage from the floor before slipping out again.
With Lucas in her arms, Stella turned to leave.
As Stella turned to leave, John blocked her path at the door. "You have not been dismissed by Mr. Gray, Ms. Carter," he stated flatly.
Stella recognized him immediately as the man who had knocked her unconscious in the warehouse. She regarded him with a thoughtful look.
Lucas huffed and tried to bite at John's hand, but Stella gently caught his chin and held his mouth closed.
Lucas blinked, and then tilted his head to the side, looking suddenly as soft and harmless as a baby bird.
"Alright. I'm not going," Stella replied calmly. She carried Lucas back into the room and took a seat directly facing Sebastian.
As she sat, a quiet realization stopped her. Sebastian was in a wheelchair, a detail she had missed until now. This didn't fit, since she clearly remembered him standing in that warehouse.
She wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her.
"You've never asked my name," Sebastian said, his voice low. His eyes, steady and inscrutable, stayed fixed on Stella.
His face revealed nothing, his sharp, handsome features a mask of cool control. He held himself with the calm authority of someone accustomed to being in charge.
Jake's eyes lit up at the comment. He instinctively glanced toward John with an openly curious look.
John answered with another sharp look, a clear command for his brother to stop.
"Does it matter?" Stella said without thinking, her face showing her genuine confusion.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
A moment later, sensing her own bluntness, she added with a casual shrug, "I'm leaving soon anyway. Does it even matter what your name is, Mr. Gray?"
The air in the room seemed to grow even heavier.
Jake hunched his shoulders slightly, watching Stella. In his eyes, her manner was straightforward to the point of being almost tactless.
Sebastian's voice was quiet. "I didn't give you permission to go."
He watched her with a look that felt too deep, too knowing. His hand moved slowly over the python's head as it lay across his lap, the gesture steady and unnervingly patient.
Stella's face showed nothing, but she was listening, weighing each word.
Then a contract was set down in front of her.
"Stay and look after him," he said. "The offer is thirty million dollars." He said it plainly, as if naming a price for an ordinary service.
Stella remained silent, though her lashes lowered for a beat.
Sebastian didn't press her. He simply twisted the python's tail in his fingers, his attention drifting back to her delicate face now and then. Something shifted behind his calm expression, a quiet intensity she couldn't read.
Lucas tilted his head back, blinking his wide, bright eyes up at Stella. He nuzzled his soft, curly hair against her hand in a little plea for affection.
A wave of regret washed over him for his earlier outburst, and he worried that he might have scared her.
He wondered if she thought he was a bad kid now.
"All of your needs will be taken care of," Sebastian stated. "Your only job is to stay here with him."
Noticing Lucas's genuine unhappiness, Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Snowball slipped swiftly from Sebastian's lap and retreated to a corner, coiling itself into a tight, defensive loop.
"John..." Jake leaned in close to John, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me, after watching a ton of dramas, I can already see it.
"Ms. Carter is gonna shove that contract right in Mr. Gray's face, yell 'You think money can buy me?', and run out crying."
John ignored him completely.
As Sebastian's most trusted man, John knew his duty. If Sebastian wanted her to stay, John would make it happen by any means necessary.
"You..." Stella looked up, her voice quiet but steady. Her expression was impossible to read.
Jake nudged John, his eyes bright with expectation.
Sebastian's presence was cold and absolute. Even seated in the wheelchair, he was no less intimidating.
"You have to give me a pen," she said simply. A signature required a pen, and there was none.
Everyone looked at the empty space on the table beside the contract. There was no pen.
Sebastian turned his head toward Jake, who had brought the papers. His handsome face showed no feeling, his gaze as flat and dismissive as if Jake were furniture.
A silent cry for help flashed in Jake's mind as he braced himself for the consequences.
A pen was quickly brought forward. Stella took it, letting it roll once through her fingers in a smooth, practiced motion before holding it still.
She looked directly at Sebastian and said, "Mr. Gray, let me ask you one last question...
"Are you really willing to pay thirty million to keep me here with Lucas, even if I might cause trouble for you later?"
It was a choice she was leaving in his hands.
Even without her memories, something deep inside assured her that she always kept her promises.
Payment meant responsibility.
Sebastian's reply was immediate and straightforward. In one smooth motion, he slid a black bank card across the table toward her. It was an unlimited account, loaded with thirty million dollars.
"The pin is six zeroes," he said, his voice calm and steady.
A small smile touched Stella's lips, and her eyes seemed to brighten. "I have one more condition, though."
"Name it," Sebastian replied. His handsome face remained completely impassive, even as she raised the stakes.
"My condition is admission to Edenbury Academy," Stella said. That elite academy was her price, and she would not be refused.
"Deal," Sebastian replied, sounding like he'd been waiting for her to ask.
His swift agreement settled it. Stella took the pen and signed. "A deal, then."
From that moment on, she saw him as her sponsor.
"Mr. Gray," John's voice cut in, sharp with urgency. "Your grandmother is in the hospital."
The atmosphere in the room turned.
Chapter 4 Go to the Hospital
A cold stillness fell, radiating from Sebastian until the very air felt brittle.
"Go on," Sebastian said, the words a low command.
"Someone told your grandmother about the kidnapping. She collapsed on the spot, her heart giving out from the shock. They've taken her to the hospital," John replied.
His eyes flicked toward Sebastian before he spoke again, his voice lowered, "It doesn't look good."
As she processed the information, Stella felt Lucas grow tense and fearful in her arms. He was whimpering softly against her.
A suffocating tension filled the room, pressing down on everyone until it was almost unbearable.
Just as the silence became too much to endure, Sebastian finally gave the order. "Have the car brought around. We're going to the hospital."
Stella had hoped to stay behind, but Sebastian glanced at her and shattered that hope. "You're going with Lucas."
She accepted it quietly, reasoning that the person who paid was the one who made the rules.
*****
A black Maybach glided smoothly along the highway. Its custom interior was quiet and comfortable.
Stella watched the world pass by outside her window. Had she not just been there, she never would have believed they had come from a private island.
The fact that Sebastian owned an entire island made her wonder just who he really was.
But she had no time to dwell on it. The moment Sebastian settled into the car, she could tell something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
His gaze was heavy and shadowed. The chronic pain in his head, worn thin from years of sleepless nights, was sharpening into something violent.
A dangerous stillness had entered his eyes, and even Lucas had sensed the tension.
"Your pills, Mr. Gray," Jake said quickly from the front seat, turning to pass a small bottle back.
Before he could deliver it, the car hit a rut. The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, stopping near Stella's foot.
She looked down at the bottle, noticing that the label was in a foreign language.
She recognized the class of medication. It was for the mind.
"Could you get that, Ms. Carter?" Jake mouthed, his expression pleading as he pressed his hands together in a silent appeal.
Stella picked it up and held it out to Sebastian. "Here."
In the next instant, Sebastian's hand closed firmly around hers, trapping both her fingers and the bottle in his grip.
Stella looked down at their linked hands but said nothing.
A moment later, Sebastian released her hand and took the medicine bottle without even glancing her way.
Then he rolled down the window and tossed the bottle out.
'He is not right in the head,' Stella thought to herself.
"Drive faster," Sebastian ordered. He leaned back heavily into the leather seat and closed his eyes, his brows pulled together tightly.
"Yes, sir," John answered from the front.
*****
Half an hour earlier, the emergency wing of the private hospital had been sealed off by a cordon of armed guards. No one was getting through.
The news had leaked, and reporters were already gathered outside, their camera flashes lighting up the scene.
"We pay your wages," a shrill voice declared. "How dare you keep the family matriarch from entering?"
Linda Gray held the arm of an elderly woman in a tailored dress, her own posture full of disdain. With a dismissive sway of her hips, she tried to push past the guards.
The woman she was pulling along was Sophia Chapman. Her silver hair was swept into a soft bun, and her simple white dress carried a calm grace that made Linda's tense urgency seem all the more jarring.
They were halted just steps from the door.
"Do you not see who is here?" Linda said, her voice sharp.
Before Linda could utter another word, the air behind them turned cold and dense with warning.
The fight went out of her at once. She turned to find herself locked in a stare that felt fatal.
The wheelchair did nothing to lessen the effect.
"S-Sebastian," she managed, her voice a thin whisper. "You're here."
Sebastian sat still, a dark blanket covering his lap. His face was too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were deep and bruised.
"What did you call me?" Sebastian asked, turning his gaze toward Linda.
The look was so sharp that it made her legs go weak.
Stella watched the reporters from behind Sebastian's wheelchair. Now she understood why he had arranged for Lucas to be taken straight inside.
"Bring them all over here," Sebastian ordered in a flat, calm voice, but Stella could feel something cold and dangerous lying just beneath his quiet surface.
The reporters were quickly ushered toward him.
It had been years since the incident, and though Sebastian had kept out of sight since then, his reputation had never faded.
"Don't worry, Mr. Gray. Every photo will be destroyed," one reporter said quickly, his voice shaking.
They stood there trembling, knowing their jobs weren't worth their lives.
Sebastian stayed quiet, his long fingers slowly spinning the dark beads around his wrist.
The soft clack of the beads was steady, a measured sound. It was the rhythm of Sebastian keeping a darker impulse in check.
Stella's gaze settled on the beads, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.
Then the room filled with a shared, silent gasp.
Her hand, cool and delicate, came to rest over his, stilling the beads beneath her touch.
Standing behind Linda, Sophia watched it all unfold, her sharp eyes taking careful note.
The tension around Sebastian dissolved as quickly as it had gathered.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Let go." It was not the violent reaction everyone had feared.
"Oh, okay," she said and withdrew her hand without pause.
"There is only one matriarch in this family," Sebastian said, his voice low but carrying clearly. "Let that be clear in your accounts."
Jake, a wall of muscle, crushed the reporters' cameras under his boot, making Sebastian's point for him.
The reporters scrambled away without a second thought for their ruined gear. They were simply grateful to escape with their lives.
Linda gritted her teeth as she watched them go, furious but silent. She knew better than to cause a scene.
After all, money meant nothing if she wasn't alive to spend it.
"Sebastian," said Sophia, her voice gentle. Her posture was still elegant, a quiet reminder of the beauty she once was.
"Excuse us," Stella said, not letting her finish. She pushed the wheelchair forward and nearly ran over Linda's foot.
"Watch where you're going!" Linda shrieked, jumping back. The limited-edition Louis Vuitton heels she wore had just arrived that morning, and damaging them would cost far more than she could ever pay back.
Stella stopped and looked at her. The gaze was cool, the kind that seemed to leave no room for lies.
"Very touching. You wore your best shoes to visit the sick," Stella observed, her tone dry and unimpressed.
Linda's face colored with shame. She turned helplessly to Sophia.
"Sophia..." she said, her voice tight.
"Aren't you a bit old to be calling for your elder?" Stella asked, the remark perfectly aimed.
She then gave the wheelchair a gentle push and moved past them without another glance.
*****
Sebastian watched the numbers climb in the quiet elevator. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low. "You had no right to speak for me."
Stella leaned down, her hands coming to rest on the arms of his chair. "A 'thank you' would be more appropriate," she said, meeting his cold stare without flinching.
He was close enough now that she could see the surprising length of his lashes, dark against his skin.
Jake tried his best to disappear into the corner.
Finally, the elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.
Chapter 5 I Can Help Her
Without a word to Sebastian, Stella stepped out of the elevator first, her hands behind her back.
"M-Mr. Gray..." Jake said quietly.
The thought that Stella might have just flirted with him flashed through Jake's mind.
Sebastian's cold glance was enough to silence Jake and send a chill down his back.
*****
Outside the VIP suite, a doctor spoke to Carlos Gray, Sebastian's grandfather, "I'm sorry. We tried everything, but Annette was brought to us too late and has suffered brain damage.
"The medical team agrees that if she doesn't regain consciousness by tonight, we will have to announce brain death."
The doctor was Emily Chase, a longtime family friend of the Grays and one of the country's most accomplished young surgeons.
She removed her mask and let out a tired sigh.
Carlos's cane clattered to the floor. He staggered back, the world swimming before his eyes.
The hall was loud with the cries of the Gray family relatives. Some of the grief looked real, some did not.
"Lucas is a Jinx," Lauren Gray's voice carried over the noise. "Every disaster in this house starts with him."
She pressed a handkerchief that smelled of onion to her eyes, summoning a convincing veil of tears. Through them, she managed to catch her brother Richard Gray's gaze where he stood near Carlos.
After the scandal years ago, their mother, Sophia, had brought them to claim their place as Carlos's children. It was only his wife Annette's fierce opposition that had kept them from being formally recognized all this time.
Now, they saw their chance.
"Dad," Lauren said, her eyes glistening as she looked at Carlos. "You must remove Lucas from the family. Before he brings ruin to us all."
"Is that so?" The quiet question dropped into the room like ice, stopping all sound.
Sebastian's wheelchair rolled forward from the dim edge of the hall. Every face in the family went pale, and the air filled with the sound of stunned breath catching in throats.
"Sebastian," Carlos began, rising quickly to his feet. But the words died in his throat as he met Sebastian's cold stare.
The wheelchair stopped in front of Lauren.
"Look at me," Sebastian said, his voice cold and dangerous. "And say that again."
Lauren was so terrified that her knees buckled. She fell hard to the floor before him, her face damp with cold sweat.
"Who else would like to suggest removing Lucas from the family?" he asked the room.
Sebastian began to turn the black prayer beads around his wrist, his eyes moving slowly across the silent crowd. No one dared meet his gaze.
It was common knowledge that Sebastian only removed those beads when he intended to draw blood.
Just as Sebastian was about to remove his prayer beads, a moment that promised violence, Emily's sharp scream came from Annette's private ward. "What are you doing?"
He went still. Every head turned toward the room.
Its door was now open.
Emily called out clearly from inside, "Carlos, I saw her. She had a needle. She was going to put it in Annette's head."
Within, Stella stood with her wrist caught in Emily's grasp, a silver needle still visible in her hand.
Lucas clung to Emily's coat, his small face distressed.
Carlos's anger found a new target. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is this?"
John, pushing Sebastian's wheelchair, saw Stella and frowned. He was certain she was causing trouble.
Stella's gaze shifted to Sebastian. Her expression smoothed into perfect calm. "Mr. Gray," she said, her voice so steady that it sounded almost detached.
Emily suddenly cried out in pain when Lucas bit her wrist. She let go of Stella immediately.
"You want her to wake up, don't you?" Stella said, pausing briefly. "I can do it."
The room erupted into whispers.
"Are you a doctor?" Emily asked coldly, still cradling her injured wrist.
"No," Stella replied flatly.
"Do you have a license to practice?" Emily pressed.
"No," Stella repeated the word.
Each answer made Emily more scornful. To her, Stella was nothing more than a delusional girl looking for attention.
"Who trained you, then?" Emily asked, her tone thick with sarcasm.
"I just learned," Stella replied, totally unfazed.
Emily didn't hide her contempt this time. She laughed outright. "You really have no idea what you're saying."
Emily found the claim absurd. 'If she's going to make up a story, she might as well have claimed to be a medical genius,' she scoffed to herself.
"Enough," John said quietly, his patience gone. "This isn't a game, Ms. Carter."
He knew better than anyone what Annette meant to Sebastian. To treat her life as a trivial matter was beyond understanding.
"It's not a game," Stella said, her voice low and steady. For the first time, a hard certainty filled her eyes.
She didn't know how she knew, but when she saw Annette, the knowledge came to her with quiet certainty. She could picture exactly where to place the needles, how deep, and at what angle.
"I can help her," Stella said, her gaze locked with Sebastian's. His face gave nothing away, a storm held in check.
"Take her," Carlos ordered, his voice thick with a rage that promised violence.
Before anyone could touch Stella, Lucas stepped in front of Stella, his small body tense and a silent warning growling in his throat.
Sebastian didn't shift. He only raised his eyes to the men advancing on Stella, and the room went still with sudden threat.
"I mean it, Sebastian," Stella said, her words spoken with quiet force.
Stella knew what Annette meant to Lucas and Sebastian. She wasn't one to make promises lightly, but here, she had no proof to offer.
"That's enough," Emily cut in, her voice tight. "Just who do you think you are? A handful of needles? You might as well say you can wake her up right now."
The audacity almost made Emily laugh. 'Does she think she's Shark?' she thought bitterly.
Shark was a freelance surgeon, a medical genius with no ties to any hospital. She was the only doctor in the world with a certified perfect record, and stories claimed her silver needles could work miracles.
She was famously difficult and charged impossible prices, and no one even knew what she looked like. Yet the world's most powerful people still begged for her help.
"You know the cost of failure," Sebastian said, his eyes steady and cold, the air growing heavy as he spoke.
"Mr. Gray!" Emily stared at him in disbelief.
Even Carlos looked shocked.
In the corner, Richard and Lauren exchanged a look of quiet victory.
If Annette died by Stella's hand, their mother's position would be secured, and the family fortune would shift in their direction.
"Mr. Gray, please reconsider it," John said, his voice urgent.
He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Annette's fate in the hands of someone so inexperienced.
Stella looked back at Sebastian, a faint, sure smile on her face. She pulled her hair up into a loose knot with a shark-topped hair tie, and then carefully sterilized the needle.
Her hands moved with a quiet competence that looked strange on someone so young.
John's heart hammered in his chest. "Mr. Gray," he said, his voice strained.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Stella carefully inserted a silver needle into Annette's scalp.
Chapter 1 Wake Up to a New World
Icy water drenched Stella Carter, shocking her awake. She shook her aching head, and as her vision cleared, a deep frown settled on her face.
"She's awake, boss," a male voice said.
Stella glanced around the derelict warehouse, finding herself surrounded by a group of muscular thugs, their eyes cold and dangerous.
"Just bad luck," the boss said. "Once we get the money, we'll take care of you both." He then walked out with his crew to smoke and play cards outside.
Hearing that, Stella turned and met the wide, frightened eyes of a little boy tied up next to her.
The boy was small and pale, maybe four or five years old. A cloth gag filled his mouth, and tears welled up under his long lashes, falling in heavy drops as he stared at her helplessly.
Stella took a long, steadying breath.
Even for someone sharp like her, waking up in a new life to this was beyond belief. She was kidnapped, and to make it worse, she had no memory left.
Stella searched within herself, but her past was a blank slate. She knew her name. She knew she was clever and strong. But that was all.
There was a soft pop-pop as Stella dislocated her wrist and slipped her hand free of the ropes.
The boy next to her paled, forgetting to cry as he watched her reset the joint with another quick, precise twist.
Without a word, Stella reached over and untied him.
Her gaze shifted to the steel pipe the kidnappers had tossed in the corner. A sudden coldness filled the air around her, dropping the temperature in the warehouse with it.
A deep, restless anger tightened in her chest. She needed to move, to let it out.
"At least there's one good thing," she murmured to herself, striding over to lift the steel pipe before turning toward the door.
*****
Far away, on Sandridge Island, the sky hung low and gray.
A hall stood crowded with people, every gaze nervously fixed on the young man seated alone on a leather sofa. He was Sebastian Gray, and no one dared look away.
He wore a simple black shirt, open at the collar. A cigarette glowed between his fingers, its smoke softening the lines of his face.
A string of black prayer beads hung from his wrist.
In front of Sebastian, a man was pinned to the floor.
"Who told you to do this?" Sebastian asked, his voice cool and even.
At his feet, a massive white python slid in slow, silent curves across the floor, its tongue flicking out. The scene was cold and unnatural, a mirror to Sebastian himself.
While he spoke, the python moved onto the sofa and rested its broad head on his thigh.
The man on the floor seemed to collapse in on himself, too terrified to speak a word.
Sebastian's expression didn't change as he slid the beads from his wrist. The simple action sent a chill through the room, and no one dared to make a sound.
He reached down to stroke the python's head, totally unaware of the suffocating weight of his presence.
"Are you hungry?" Sebastian asked, his voice quiet.
The moment he finished speaking, two men stepped forward and hauled the prisoner away.
"Mercy, Mr. Gray. Just one chance..." the voice pleaded desperately, trailing off until nothing remained but silence.
"Mr. Gray, we've got a location," said a bodyguard in black as he stepped quietly to Sebastian's side.
Sebastian's only nephew was missing, and this was the kind of trouble that could turn the world upside down.
When Sebastian looked up, a cold, sharp fear shot through the bodyguard, freezing him where he stood.
"We'll be there in thirty minutes," Sebastian said coldly.
*****
In the old warehouse, the brief but brutal fight was just over.
Stella sat in the only undamaged chair, working the stiffness from her neck with a blank expression. The steel pipe in her hand scraped slowly across the concrete floor, the sound grating and sharp.
She was quiet, her eyes fixed on some distant point.
The once-bold kidnappers now were sprawled on the floor with their hands up, their faces bruised and tear-streaked. They flinched visibly each time the pipe scraped against the ground.
They never thought she'd be this tough. Now they just felt stupid.
Stella sat where the light barely reached, which only made her seem more formidable.
Suddenly, a quiet shuffling sound came from behind her.
It would stop, then start again, full of hesitation.
Then she felt a small, hesitant pull on her sleeve.
Stella went still and looked down to meet the boy's eyes.
He gave her a shy, hopeful smile. With his eyes still red from crying and his long lashes, he looked utterly precious. Sensing his own charm, he leaned his cheek softly into her palm.
"What's your name?" Stella asked, gently pinching his nose.
He didn't answer. Instead, he smiled again, took her hand, and began to write letters carefully on her palm.
"Lucas Gray?" she read his name, realizing he couldn't speak.
When he heard his name, Lucas's face brightened. He quickly held out a tiny phone to her.
He had somehow kept it hidden all along.
The moment Stella took it, the phone rang, the screen flashing "Gray." Without thinking, she pressed it to her ear.
"Had enough fun?" came the low, smooth voice from the other end.
Stella's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Mr. Gray," she said, clearing her throat. "Your kid is with me."
There was only silence from the other side.
Stella, lost in the call, took no notice of the men sprawled on the floor ahead of her. They were staring past her now, their faces ghostly white.
"Is that so?" The words were quiet, but the air in the room grew heavy and still.
"Of course..." Stella began to reply into the phone. Then she paused when she realized that the voice hadn't come from the receiver. It had come from directly behind her.
She turned, and her eyes met a cold, steady gaze.
Stella had to admit, Sebastian was the most striking man she had ever seen.
He stood backlit, a cold outline against the light. Men in dark suits flanked him, but he alone seemed carved from ice, distant and utterly untouchable.
As he lifted his hand, she noticed the black prayer beads around his wrist.
A piercing headache tore through Stella's mind, shattering her focus.
"John," Sebastian said, his voice a cold whisper.
Before Stella could react, a shadow moved behind her. A sharp strike landed on her neck, and she fell, darkness swallowing her whole.
*****
The next morning, Stella stirred in her sleep, feeling something cool and smooth slide against her leg.
A soft, threatening hiss sounded in the quiet room.
She reached out sleepily to push it away, but the moment her fingers touched its skin, her eyes shot open.
She froze as her vision cleared. In the soft morning light, she was staring directly into the black gaze of a huge white python lying right next to her on the bed. It flicked its tongue with a quiet hiss.
"You're awake," Sebastian said.
Chapter 2 A Pet Python
Stella turned toward the sound.
Sebastian sat in the morning light, wearing only a black robe tied loosely at the waist. He was holding a cup of coffee, his long legs stretched out as he read a file open on his lap.
A strand of dark beads hung from his wrist. They swayed gently, giving him a quiet stillness that felt ancient and unreadable.
Stella took him in, and for a moment, she just stared. Then she snapped back to herself, the defiance returning to her eyes as she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth.
"You..." she began.
He looked up then, and their eyes met. That was all it took. The memory of what happened right before she was knocked out rushed back to her in a single, vivid wave.
The large python shifted slowly on the bed, its size making its movements look heavy and almost harmless.
"Snowball," Sebastian said, his voice low and cold.
Stella stared. To her, a man who kept a pet python and gave it a cute name like Snowball was clearly out of the ordinary.
At Sebastian's call, the python slid down from the bed. It wound its way around his legs, coiled onto the sofa behind him, and settled its large head on his shoulder with a soft nudge.
"You're Lucas's father?" Stella asked.
Stella knew she had to explain. She wasn't the kidnapper, but a victim herself.
Sebastian stroked the python's head, his gaze locked on Stella's face as she spoke.
His expression was cool and unreadable, and the casual way he handled the massive python sent a shiver through her.
The folder on Sebastian's lap slipped to the floor, its contents spilling out. Photographs scattered across the tiles, and Stella's words died in her throat.
Every single picture was of her, from childhood through adolescence to recent months. It was a complete dossier on her life.
He had known she was innocent this whole time. Yet he'd sat there silently, letting her talk, when he'd had the truth in his lap all along.
It hit her then that he was testing her. His calculation ran deeper than she had imagined.
"Is this really fun for you, Mr. Gray?" Stella squinted, her slender frame slouched lazily against the headboard.
Sebastian didn't answer. He merely gestured toward the other side of the room.
Stella glanced toward where he pointed and met her own eyes in the mirror.
Her face was a mess of thick, smudged smoky makeup, her ears cluttered with several skull-shaped clips. It was pure punk overload.
She stared at the reflection, her fingers tracing the line of her brow. The cheap makeup was caked on thick, but beneath it all, the elegant lines of her face were still there. It gave her a look that was naturally cool and reserved.
"Mr. Gray..." She threw off the covers, stood up barefoot, and moved with a swagger. "I'm getting this off."
*****
In the bathroom, Stella cleared the fog from the mirror. Her flawless skin was flushed and dewy from the shower, giving her a fresh, delicate beauty.
Her face was bare, without a trace of makeup. In the stillness, her captivating eyes blinked slowly, their gaze catching the light with a faint, honeyed warmth.
She seemed calm, but there was a cool distance in her expression that kept people away.
A small mole rested on her collarbone.
Her hair, freshly dried, fell in soft, shiny waves all the way down her back.
Yet Stella's mind was empty. She knew her name, but nothing else about who she was.
After she got dressed and walked out, both Sebastian and the large white python were gone.
Only a mess of photos and files remained, scattered across the floor.
"Stella Carter... eighteen," she murmured to herself, her slender fingers turning the pages as she scanned the file's sparse lines.
The records stated she was a former student of Central High School, expelled just last week for failing grades and excessive absences. She had a reputation as a rebel, and her home life was reportedly strained.
It also revealed that her younger sister, Hazel Carter, attended Edenbury Academy, the city's most elite and costly private school.
Stella turned the page, and a chill settled in her eyes as she read that she was not the Carters' real daughter.
The Carters had known the truth all along, which was why they had always treated the two sisters so differently.
What made no sense was the money. The Carters were not wealthy, yet they managed to pay for Edenbury Academy's enormous fees year after year, a sum that ran into the millions.
She was still turning this over in her mind when a rapid, anxious knock came at her bedroom door.
"Ms. Carter!" came the tense voice of Jake Yates, Sebastian's other subordinate, as he pounded hard on the wood.
He started to speak again as the door suddenly opened from the inside.
His raised fist almost struck her, but Stella moved swiftly out of the way.
He froze, his words dying on his lips as he got a clear look at her face.
He stared, hardly believing this was the same girl Sebastian had brought home yesterday, the one with messy, smudged makeup. Now, she looked clear and quietly beautiful.
"So you're sending me away," Stella said, her voice steady and without much emotion.
Lucas was safe now. Even if Sebastian had said nothing, she would have been ready to go.
"Ms. Carter, please follow me," Jake said, shaking his head as he remembered his actual task.
The memory of Lucas's demolished room was enough to make his blood run cold.
He would gladly trade a month in combat for a single day of babysitting duty.
"Has something happened to him?" Stella asked, a sudden fear gripping her as she followed Jake to the elevator.
Lucas's room was on the third floor. When the elevator doors opened, a vase shot past them and exploded against the wall. The floor was a sea of wreckage, with no clear path through.
Stella stared, utterly speechless.
"He did this alone?" Stella asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. The devastation was absolute.
Jake could only give a stiff, helpless nod.
Stella turned and entered the room. The scene grew more chaotic with every step.
The servants stood quietly nearby, their silence a clear sign they had seen this all before.
"Bring in a fresh set for him to break," Sebastian ordered. His tone was icy and held no mercy for the five-year-old boy, cutting with a ruthless edge.
Soon, a servant was replacing the broken items on the shelves with new ones, each piece a costly antique.
Lucas grunted angrily, swinging his small fists to warn anyone who tried to come close.
The white python, Snowball, coiled protectively around Lucas, letting the boy rest against his scales.
Seeing Lucas on the verge of total exhaustion, Stella turned a cold glare toward Sebastian. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded.
Stella's expression tightened as Lucas started to move, her eyes flashing with immediate concern.
He was barefoot on a floor littered with glass. One wrong step could cut him.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming to you," she said firmly.
As Stella approached, Lucas's face lit up for a moment before his eyes glistened with tears.
His chin trembled as he reached his small hands out to her.
Chapter 3 Paid to Stay
Silent sobs shook Lucas's little frame, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. His need for comfort was clear.
"Do not pick him up," Sebastian ordered, his icy voice cutting through the room and deepening the tension.
Stella acted as if she hadn't heard him. She leaned down, shielding Lucas's ears with her hands, and whispered softly to him, "Ignore that weirdo."
Jake was trying to ease his way out of the room when his brother John shot him a look that could freeze fire. He stopped moving at once, his face settling into a resigned frown.
He was trapped. When forces like these clashed, the bystanders never fared well.
"Stella," Sebastian said, a slow and dangerous smile crossing his face. He had never met anyone brave enough to defy him so openly.
"You're not a young man, Mr. Gray. Why bother fighting with a child?" Stella's voice was laced with clear sarcasm.
She easily lifted Lucas into her arms and held him close, all while giving Sebastian a sharp, challenging look.
Sebastian's expression turned cold, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, unyielding intensity.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone watching held their breath, sharing the same silent thought that Stella was either fearless or foolish.
A long moment passed before Sebastian finally moved, just a slight shift of his fingers. It was enough. The tension broke, and everyone around them let out a slow, collective breath. The sudden shift in tension felt utterly surreal.
Servants rushed forward, quietly clearing the wreckage from the floor before slipping out again.
With Lucas in her arms, Stella turned to leave.
As Stella turned to leave, John blocked her path at the door. "You have not been dismissed by Mr. Gray, Ms. Carter," he stated flatly.
Stella recognized him immediately as the man who had knocked her unconscious in the warehouse. She regarded him with a thoughtful look.
Lucas huffed and tried to bite at John's hand, but Stella gently caught his chin and held his mouth closed.
Lucas blinked, and then tilted his head to the side, looking suddenly as soft and harmless as a baby bird.
"Alright. I'm not going," Stella replied calmly. She carried Lucas back into the room and took a seat directly facing Sebastian.
As she sat, a quiet realization stopped her. Sebastian was in a wheelchair, a detail she had missed until now. This didn't fit, since she clearly remembered him standing in that warehouse.
She wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her.
"You've never asked my name," Sebastian said, his voice low. His eyes, steady and inscrutable, stayed fixed on Stella.
His face revealed nothing, his sharp, handsome features a mask of cool control. He held himself with the calm authority of someone accustomed to being in charge.
Jake's eyes lit up at the comment. He instinctively glanced toward John with an openly curious look.
John answered with another sharp look, a clear command for his brother to stop.
"Does it matter?" Stella said without thinking, her face showing her genuine confusion.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
A moment later, sensing her own bluntness, she added with a casual shrug, "I'm leaving soon anyway. Does it even matter what your name is, Mr. Gray?"
The air in the room seemed to grow even heavier.
Jake hunched his shoulders slightly, watching Stella. In his eyes, her manner was straightforward to the point of being almost tactless.
Sebastian's voice was quiet. "I didn't give you permission to go."
He watched her with a look that felt too deep, too knowing. His hand moved slowly over the python's head as it lay across his lap, the gesture steady and unnervingly patient.
Stella's face showed nothing, but she was listening, weighing each word.
Then a contract was set down in front of her.
"Stay and look after him," he said. "The offer is thirty million dollars." He said it plainly, as if naming a price for an ordinary service.
Stella remained silent, though her lashes lowered for a beat.
Sebastian didn't press her. He simply twisted the python's tail in his fingers, his attention drifting back to her delicate face now and then. Something shifted behind his calm expression, a quiet intensity she couldn't read.
Lucas tilted his head back, blinking his wide, bright eyes up at Stella. He nuzzled his soft, curly hair against her hand in a little plea for affection.
A wave of regret washed over him for his earlier outburst, and he worried that he might have scared her.
He wondered if she thought he was a bad kid now.
"All of your needs will be taken care of," Sebastian stated. "Your only job is to stay here with him."
Noticing Lucas's genuine unhappiness, Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Snowball slipped swiftly from Sebastian's lap and retreated to a corner, coiling itself into a tight, defensive loop.
"John..." Jake leaned in close to John, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me, after watching a ton of dramas, I can already see it.
"Ms. Carter is gonna shove that contract right in Mr. Gray's face, yell 'You think money can buy me?', and run out crying."
John ignored him completely.
As Sebastian's most trusted man, John knew his duty. If Sebastian wanted her to stay, John would make it happen by any means necessary.
"You..." Stella looked up, her voice quiet but steady. Her expression was impossible to read.
Jake nudged John, his eyes bright with expectation.
Sebastian's presence was cold and absolute. Even seated in the wheelchair, he was no less intimidating.
"You have to give me a pen," she said simply. A signature required a pen, and there was none.
Everyone looked at the empty space on the table beside the contract. There was no pen.
Sebastian turned his head toward Jake, who had brought the papers. His handsome face showed no feeling, his gaze as flat and dismissive as if Jake were furniture.
A silent cry for help flashed in Jake's mind as he braced himself for the consequences.
A pen was quickly brought forward. Stella took it, letting it roll once through her fingers in a smooth, practiced motion before holding it still.
She looked directly at Sebastian and said, "Mr. Gray, let me ask you one last question...
"Are you really willing to pay thirty million to keep me here with Lucas, even if I might cause trouble for you later?"
It was a choice she was leaving in his hands.
Even without her memories, something deep inside assured her that she always kept her promises.
Payment meant responsibility.
Sebastian's reply was immediate and straightforward. In one smooth motion, he slid a black bank card across the table toward her. It was an unlimited account, loaded with thirty million dollars.
"The pin is six zeroes," he said, his voice calm and steady.
A small smile touched Stella's lips, and her eyes seemed to brighten. "I have one more condition, though."
"Name it," Sebastian replied. His handsome face remained completely impassive, even as she raised the stakes.
"My condition is admission to Edenbury Academy," Stella said. That elite academy was her price, and she would not be refused.
"Deal," Sebastian replied, sounding like he'd been waiting for her to ask.
His swift agreement settled it. Stella took the pen and signed. "A deal, then."
From that moment on, she saw him as her sponsor.
"Mr. Gray," John's voice cut in, sharp with urgency. "Your grandmother is in the hospital."
The atmosphere in the room turned.
Chapter 4 Go to the Hospital
A cold stillness fell, radiating from Sebastian until the very air felt brittle.
"Go on," Sebastian said, the words a low command.
"Someone told your grandmother about the kidnapping. She collapsed on the spot, her heart giving out from the shock. They've taken her to the hospital," John replied.
His eyes flicked toward Sebastian before he spoke again, his voice lowered, "It doesn't look good."
As she processed the information, Stella felt Lucas grow tense and fearful in her arms. He was whimpering softly against her.
A suffocating tension filled the room, pressing down on everyone until it was almost unbearable.
Just as the silence became too much to endure, Sebastian finally gave the order. "Have the car brought around. We're going to the hospital."
Stella had hoped to stay behind, but Sebastian glanced at her and shattered that hope. "You're going with Lucas."
She accepted it quietly, reasoning that the person who paid was the one who made the rules.
*****
A black Maybach glided smoothly along the highway. Its custom interior was quiet and comfortable.
Stella watched the world pass by outside her window. Had she not just been there, she never would have believed they had come from a private island.
The fact that Sebastian owned an entire island made her wonder just who he really was.
But she had no time to dwell on it. The moment Sebastian settled into the car, she could tell something was wrong.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
His gaze was heavy and shadowed. The chronic pain in his head, worn thin from years of sleepless nights, was sharpening into something violent.
A dangerous stillness had entered his eyes, and even Lucas had sensed the tension.
"Your pills, Mr. Gray," Jake said quickly from the front seat, turning to pass a small bottle back.
Before he could deliver it, the car hit a rut. The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, stopping near Stella's foot.
She looked down at the bottle, noticing that the label was in a foreign language.
She recognized the class of medication. It was for the mind.
"Could you get that, Ms. Carter?" Jake mouthed, his expression pleading as he pressed his hands together in a silent appeal.
Stella picked it up and held it out to Sebastian. "Here."
In the next instant, Sebastian's hand closed firmly around hers, trapping both her fingers and the bottle in his grip.
Stella looked down at their linked hands but said nothing.
A moment later, Sebastian released her hand and took the medicine bottle without even glancing her way.
Then he rolled down the window and tossed the bottle out.
'He is not right in the head,' Stella thought to herself.
"Drive faster," Sebastian ordered. He leaned back heavily into the leather seat and closed his eyes, his brows pulled together tightly.
"Yes, sir," John answered from the front.
*****
Half an hour earlier, the emergency wing of the private hospital had been sealed off by a cordon of armed guards. No one was getting through.
The news had leaked, and reporters were already gathered outside, their camera flashes lighting up the scene.
"We pay your wages," a shrill voice declared. "How dare you keep the family matriarch from entering?"
Linda Gray held the arm of an elderly woman in a tailored dress, her own posture full of disdain. With a dismissive sway of her hips, she tried to push past the guards.
The woman she was pulling along was Sophia Chapman. Her silver hair was swept into a soft bun, and her simple white dress carried a calm grace that made Linda's tense urgency seem all the more jarring.
They were halted just steps from the door.
"Do you not see who is here?" Linda said, her voice sharp.
Before Linda could utter another word, the air behind them turned cold and dense with warning.
The fight went out of her at once. She turned to find herself locked in a stare that felt fatal.
The wheelchair did nothing to lessen the effect.
"S-Sebastian," she managed, her voice a thin whisper. "You're here."
Sebastian sat still, a dark blanket covering his lap. His face was too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were deep and bruised.
"What did you call me?" Sebastian asked, turning his gaze toward Linda.
The look was so sharp that it made her legs go weak.
Stella watched the reporters from behind Sebastian's wheelchair. Now she understood why he had arranged for Lucas to be taken straight inside.
"Bring them all over here," Sebastian ordered in a flat, calm voice, but Stella could feel something cold and dangerous lying just beneath his quiet surface.
The reporters were quickly ushered toward him.
It had been years since the incident, and though Sebastian had kept out of sight since then, his reputation had never faded.
"Don't worry, Mr. Gray. Every photo will be destroyed," one reporter said quickly, his voice shaking.
They stood there trembling, knowing their jobs weren't worth their lives.
Sebastian stayed quiet, his long fingers slowly spinning the dark beads around his wrist.
The soft clack of the beads was steady, a measured sound. It was the rhythm of Sebastian keeping a darker impulse in check.
Stella's gaze settled on the beads, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.
Then the room filled with a shared, silent gasp.
Her hand, cool and delicate, came to rest over his, stilling the beads beneath her touch.
Standing behind Linda, Sophia watched it all unfold, her sharp eyes taking careful note.
The tension around Sebastian dissolved as quickly as it had gathered.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Let go." It was not the violent reaction everyone had feared.
"Oh, okay," she said and withdrew her hand without pause.
"There is only one matriarch in this family," Sebastian said, his voice low but carrying clearly. "Let that be clear in your accounts."
Jake, a wall of muscle, crushed the reporters' cameras under his boot, making Sebastian's point for him.
The reporters scrambled away without a second thought for their ruined gear. They were simply grateful to escape with their lives.
Linda gritted her teeth as she watched them go, furious but silent. She knew better than to cause a scene.
After all, money meant nothing if she wasn't alive to spend it.
"Sebastian," said Sophia, her voice gentle. Her posture was still elegant, a quiet reminder of the beauty she once was.
"Excuse us," Stella said, not letting her finish. She pushed the wheelchair forward and nearly ran over Linda's foot.
"Watch where you're going!" Linda shrieked, jumping back. The limited-edition Louis Vuitton heels she wore had just arrived that morning, and damaging them would cost far more than she could ever pay back.
Stella stopped and looked at her. The gaze was cool, the kind that seemed to leave no room for lies.
"Very touching. You wore your best shoes to visit the sick," Stella observed, her tone dry and unimpressed.
Linda's face colored with shame. She turned helplessly to Sophia.
"Sophia..." she said, her voice tight.
"Aren't you a bit old to be calling for your elder?" Stella asked, the remark perfectly aimed.
She then gave the wheelchair a gentle push and moved past them without another glance.
*****
Sebastian watched the numbers climb in the quiet elevator. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low. "You had no right to speak for me."
Stella leaned down, her hands coming to rest on the arms of his chair. "A 'thank you' would be more appropriate," she said, meeting his cold stare without flinching.
He was close enough now that she could see the surprising length of his lashes, dark against his skin.
Jake tried his best to disappear into the corner.
Finally, the elevator doors opened with a quiet chime.
Chapter 5 I Can Help Her
Without a word to Sebastian, Stella stepped out of the elevator first, her hands behind her back.
"M-Mr. Gray..." Jake said quietly.
The thought that Stella might have just flirted with him flashed through Jake's mind.
Sebastian's cold glance was enough to silence Jake and send a chill down his back.
*****
Outside the VIP suite, a doctor spoke to Carlos Gray, Sebastian's grandfather, "I'm sorry. We tried everything, but Annette was brought to us too late and has suffered brain damage.
"The medical team agrees that if she doesn't regain consciousness by tonight, we will have to announce brain death."
The doctor was Emily Chase, a longtime family friend of the Grays and one of the country's most accomplished young surgeons.
She removed her mask and let out a tired sigh.
Carlos's cane clattered to the floor. He staggered back, the world swimming before his eyes.
The hall was loud with the cries of the Gray family relatives. Some of the grief looked real, some did not.
"Lucas is a Jinx," Lauren Gray's voice carried over the noise. "Every disaster in this house starts with him."
She pressed a handkerchief that smelled of onion to her eyes, summoning a convincing veil of tears. Through them, she managed to catch her brother Richard Gray's gaze where he stood near Carlos.
After the scandal years ago, their mother, Sophia, had brought them to claim their place as Carlos's children. It was only his wife Annette's fierce opposition that had kept them from being formally recognized all this time.
Now, they saw their chance.
"Dad," Lauren said, her eyes glistening as she looked at Carlos. "You must remove Lucas from the family. Before he brings ruin to us all."
"Is that so?" The quiet question dropped into the room like ice, stopping all sound.
Sebastian's wheelchair rolled forward from the dim edge of the hall. Every face in the family went pale, and the air filled with the sound of stunned breath catching in throats.
"Sebastian," Carlos began, rising quickly to his feet. But the words died in his throat as he met Sebastian's cold stare.
The wheelchair stopped in front of Lauren.
"Look at me," Sebastian said, his voice cold and dangerous. "And say that again."
Lauren was so terrified that her knees buckled. She fell hard to the floor before him, her face damp with cold sweat.
"Who else would like to suggest removing Lucas from the family?" he asked the room.
Sebastian began to turn the black prayer beads around his wrist, his eyes moving slowly across the silent crowd. No one dared meet his gaze.
It was common knowledge that Sebastian only removed those beads when he intended to draw blood.
Just as Sebastian was about to remove his prayer beads, a moment that promised violence, Emily's sharp scream came from Annette's private ward. "What are you doing?"
He went still. Every head turned toward the room.
Its door was now open.
Emily called out clearly from inside, "Carlos, I saw her. She had a needle. She was going to put it in Annette's head."
Within, Stella stood with her wrist caught in Emily's grasp, a silver needle still visible in her hand.
Lucas clung to Emily's coat, his small face distressed.
Carlos's anger found a new target. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is this?"
John, pushing Sebastian's wheelchair, saw Stella and frowned. He was certain she was causing trouble.
Stella's gaze shifted to Sebastian. Her expression smoothed into perfect calm. "Mr. Gray," she said, her voice so steady that it sounded almost detached.
Emily suddenly cried out in pain when Lucas bit her wrist. She let go of Stella immediately.
"You want her to wake up, don't you?" Stella said, pausing briefly. "I can do it."
The room erupted into whispers.
"Are you a doctor?" Emily asked coldly, still cradling her injured wrist.
"No," Stella replied flatly.
"Do you have a license to practice?" Emily pressed.
"No," Stella repeated the word.
Each answer made Emily more scornful. To her, Stella was nothing more than a delusional girl looking for attention.
"Who trained you, then?" Emily asked, her tone thick with sarcasm.
"I just learned," Stella replied, totally unfazed.
Emily didn't hide her contempt this time. She laughed outright. "You really have no idea what you're saying."
Emily found the claim absurd. 'If she's going to make up a story, she might as well have claimed to be a medical genius,' she scoffed to herself.
"Enough," John said quietly, his patience gone. "This isn't a game, Ms. Carter."
He knew better than anyone what Annette meant to Sebastian. To treat her life as a trivial matter was beyond understanding.
"It's not a game," Stella said, her voice low and steady. For the first time, a hard certainty filled her eyes.
She didn't know how she knew, but when she saw Annette, the knowledge came to her with quiet certainty. She could picture exactly where to place the needles, how deep, and at what angle.
"I can help her," Stella said, her gaze locked with Sebastian's. His face gave nothing away, a storm held in check.
"Take her," Carlos ordered, his voice thick with a rage that promised violence.
Before anyone could touch Stella, Lucas stepped in front of Stella, his small body tense and a silent warning growling in his throat.
Sebastian didn't shift. He only raised his eyes to the men advancing on Stella, and the room went still with sudden threat.
"I mean it, Sebastian," Stella said, her words spoken with quiet force.
Stella knew what Annette meant to Lucas and Sebastian. She wasn't one to make promises lightly, but here, she had no proof to offer.
"That's enough," Emily cut in, her voice tight. "Just who do you think you are? A handful of needles? You might as well say you can wake her up right now."
The audacity almost made Emily laugh. 'Does she think she's Shark?' she thought bitterly.
Shark was a freelance surgeon, a medical genius with no ties to any hospital. She was the only doctor in the world with a certified perfect record, and stories claimed her silver needles could work miracles.
She was famously difficult and charged impossible prices, and no one even knew what she looked like. Yet the world's most powerful people still begged for her help.
"You know the cost of failure," Sebastian said, his eyes steady and cold, the air growing heavy as he spoke.
"Mr. Gray!" Emily stared at him in disbelief.
Even Carlos looked shocked.
In the corner, Richard and Lauren exchanged a look of quiet victory.
If Annette died by Stella's hand, their mother's position would be secured, and the family fortune would shift in their direction.
"Mr. Gray, please reconsider it," John said, his voice urgent.
He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Annette's fate in the hands of someone so inexperienced.
Stella looked back at Sebastian, a faint, sure smile on her face. She pulled her hair up into a loose knot with a shark-topped hair tie, and then carefully sterilized the needle.
Her hands moved with a quiet competence that looked strange on someone so young.
John's heart hammered in his chest. "Mr. Gray," he said, his voice strained.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Stella carefully inserted a silver needle into Annette's scalp.
Marrying a Warhound
I pictured Cassian Valemont stepping over the bodies of his four wives. Did they scream? Did he linger to relish the sound, or stride on, already hunting bride number five?
“Atasha, the council assured us that this marriage is done to appease the young lord. It is nothing but formalities,” my mother’s voice brought me back from my stupor.
Marriage.
Yes. A marriage with Cassian Valemont himself.
I pressed two fingers against the unmarked skin over my heart and tried, one last futile time, to feel even a flicker of fur beneath. Nothing. Empty, the same as yesterday, the same as every day since my sixteenth birthday.
Wolfless.
The word echoed with the thunder hammering the council-hall roof. Each rumble felt like the place chanting the verdict I’d lived with for four years: useless, weak, expendable.
If my wolf had awakened that night, would they still send me north as Cassian Valemont’s fifth bride?
I dragged my eyes back to my parents. Both of them were silent, both waiting for me to say yes.
My father broke the silence first. “If you refuse, the treaty dissolves. Nightfall will stand alone. The Alpha King will not protect us when Fang Demon marches.”
Genevieve, my mother, spoke next. “Think of your sister. Celeste is the future of this pack. We cannot let her marry that man. The north is too far away from our pack. How could she travel—” she paused. “Atasha… you are different. You must marry the lord in her stead.”
I looked at the face that used to glow with pride. “Lord Cassian has been married four times,” I said flatly. “Three of them died on the wedding night. The fourth lasted a week.” Marrying Lord Cassian would be marrying my own killer. How could they send me to my death?
My mother didn’t flinch. “He is widowed now,” she replied quickly. “The envoy swore this union is in name only. You will not remain at his castle. After the ceremony, you can live where you choose. Far from him. Peace, Atasha. Freedom. This is what you want.”
Peace. The word rang hollow.
Four years had passed since my sixteenth birthday, since I failed to awaken, and every day since had proven how little they valued a daughter without a wolf.
Now, thunder rolled again.
My father bent over parchment, quill scratching out the final terms. My mother leaned close. “This bargain saves Celeste and secures the pack. You will finally be free of any duties. This is the freedom that you want.”
Freedom. A life near the border, maybe. Somewhere no one would bother whispering the word “human.” But how could they use the word freedom after trying to convince me to marry Lord Cassian? Right. Nothing says ‘freedom’ like signing myself over to a bride‑killer.
But if I don’t marry him? Who will? Celeste?
I pictured Celeste in white beside the Alpha King. Yes, Celeste should be the one standing next to the Alpha King, not to the King’s crazed brother.
If marrying Cassian Valemont meant protecting Celeste and securing Nightfall, I’d do it. Even a wolfless daughter could still be of use.
I would save Celeste, even if it cost my life. My hand trembled on the quill, then I willed it still and signed in neat strokes—Atasha Genevieve Black.
No applause followed. Deals like this didn’t deserve it.
Near the doors, Celeste caught my eye as she mouthed two words. Thank you.
I simply gave her a nod. This wasn’t her fault. This wasn’t anyone’s fault. I knew that we were both victims of the circumstances and that, if given a choice, Celeste would never let me marry that beast.
“Cassian Valemont will arrive tomorrow night,” my father said. “He will come to get the bride. Prepare your things. We will ensure that your dowry is sufficient. You do not need to think of anything else.”
I nodded as the rain slammed the roof harder.
As the ink dried, I straightened my back. Then I left the room without another word.
A marriage to Cassian Valemont.
The Cassian Valemont. The Alpha’s brother. The one who didn’t follow the council, didn’t answer to the King. The one who led the King’s Army like a warhound let off the leash. The man who killed every bride they gave him. Perhaps my dream of living by the borders was nothing but a fairytale. So maybe I wasn’t destined for a life on the border after all.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I turned right.
My room was in the attic. It used to be a storage space.
When Celeste asked for the larger room on the second floor, no one argued. I was quietly told to move upstairs. I never complained. Complaining was pointless when you didn’t even have a wolf.
Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me.
The attic felt claustrophobic—its low, sloping ceiling pressing down on a single wooden bed, a battered dresser, and a trunk by the window. A threadbare rug barely hid warped floorboards, and cobwebs clung to every corner.
Tonight, the wind howled, and rain lashed the panes, lightning carving jagged shadows through the trees. Sadly, I had no time to linger on the storm.
Lord Cassian arrives tomorrow. Sweat prickled my palms as I hauled the leather trunk from beneath the cot. With a groan, I flipped it open, and a cloud of cedar‑dust revealed the same faded cotton dresses I’d worn since my seventeenth winter, nothing more substantial than a shawl.
I slipped a hand between the cotton layers. I could already feel draughts knifing through the attic boards. If this room chilled me, what would a northern keep do?
The north is a land where the sun seldom rises, a place where frost slicks the stones even at noon. And yet here I was, folding lace into my trunk as if it stood a chance against the cold.
I started looking for something that would at least keep me warm.
After what felt like forever, I found only one cloak thick enough to call a cloak. It was Father’s cast-off hunting wrap, wool scarred by burrs, smelling faintly of pine smoke. I pulled it around my shoulders as I pictured northern wind howling through castle corridors and shoved the cloak into the trunk.
Then, I took Celeste’s quilt from the foot of my bed instead. Midnight blue, stitched with silver thread in tiny moons. She’d sworn it would keep nightmares out. Last night proved otherwise.
Now, the trunk was half-full, half-empty. Pressing the lid down, I fastened the brass latch. The leather creaked, protesting the weight, and so did my heart.
If my wolf had awakened, would I even be here, packing for my own funeral?
Tomorrow, the Tyrant Lord would take his bride to the northern walls, and I would arrive wearing clothes meant for summer. Well, it’s not like I would survive this marriage. I would be lucky if I lasted a month. No. A week.
Another flash of lightning cut across the sky. Thunder cracked close behind it, loud enough to rattle the window.
Then the curtain lifted violently as if something had surged through the room.
Startled, I stood and moved to the window. The latch again, probably. It always slipped loose in storms.
My fingers reached for it… then froze mid-air.
The air had shifted.
The kind of shift every wolf's instinct recognized. And I immediately knew it wasn’t just because of the wind.
Someone else was here.
My chest seized as the curtains whipped aside. I dared not blink, straining to read the darkness. Then I saw him. A man, standing not too far away from me. And it didn’t take too long for me to recognize that face.
It was him! A gasp caught in my throat.
Cassian Valemont!
Lightning fractured the sky, etching his broad shoulders and hard features. Dressed in black, he stood unmoving at the foot of my bed.
For a long, tense moment, the room fell silent as his burnished‑steel eyes felt like ice against my bones, yet I could not look away.
I had seen him before, once beside the King during a coronation, once on a blood-soaked battlefield. But this was different. This was not a man glimpsed from a distance. This was the tyrant lord standing in my room. In my silence.
The Cassian Valemont.
The one mothers warned their children about.
And now he was here as if this night—this storm—belonged to him.
Then he smiled. “You signed your name like a lamb. It makes me curious…” his gaze slid to my throat. “Will your last scream sound like a wolf’s roar or a lamb’s bleat?”
Useless Bride
“I knew you were wolfless,” he continued, voice as steady as the storm outside. “I didn’t know you were mute.”
I forced my feet to move forward, but my voice was gone, swallowed by fear. My throat clenched as I stared at him, sweat slicking my palms against my skirt. I wanted to demand, “How did you slip in unseen?” but all that came out was a ragged hitch in my chest.
“My… My lord,” I lowered my head slightly, careful not to break eye contact too soon. “Please forgive my current state. I was not informed that you would be visiting my humble rooms tonight.”
His steps were soundless across the warped floorboards, yet every movement made the walls feel smaller. He didn’t pace, he prowled, like something untamed that had wandered too far from its leash. Even when still, he moved. Like the storm, like the wind. Always watching. Always ready to strike.
Then he said it, softly, almost idly, like it amused him. “Say… what do you think will happen if the bride ends her own life before the Prince arrives?”
The words slid like a blade between my ribs.
Inside, I froze. Outside, I didn’t even flinch.
I wasn’t stupid.
If he wanted me dead, he could do it now. No one would stop him. No one would question it. And something told me he wouldn’t even blink.
Still, I did my best to control myself. Not too calm, calm would sound practiced. Not too frightened, fear would only feed whatever game this was.
“My death would start a war,” I answered. “If I refuse the King’s decree, if I die before we wed, my entire pack will be annihilated to punish us for insubordination.”
Cassian’s storm‑lit profile didn’t change, but I sensed his gaze sharpen.
“He demands a bride for his brother,” I continued, voice steadier now that the truth was out. “If that bride perishes… the King would see it as treason. He’d give you free rein to cleanse Nightfall.”
He made a deliberate pause. Did I pass? Was that the answer that he wanted to hear?
Then Cassian’s lips curved, not kindly, but slowly, like the smile had been earned. “Clever.”
His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. Not amusement. Not approval.
Something worse.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he said. “They told me you were quiet. Fragile. Dull. But not stupid.”
He stepped closer. The shadows clung to him like smoke, and yet his presence filled the space like fire. I could smell rain on his coat, blood on his past, and something colder beneath it all.
My hands stayed still at my sides.
Do not tremble. Please, do not tremble.
Cassian stood in front of me now, arms loose at his sides. He looked down like he was calculating something— something like how fast he could kill me, or whether it was worth it.
“I did not come here to waste my time on an Omega,” he said. “Your father’s hiding something.”
That threw me off. Just slightly. Not enough to show.
“Hiding… something?” As the Alpha of one of the strongest packs in Arecor, my father has his own secrets. But what does this have to do with me?
He tilted his head. “Something he doesn’t want the King to see. And I want to know what it is.”
Thunder boomed directly above us, loud enough to rattle the glass. Still, I didn’t look away from him.
“I don’t know.”
His brow twitched.
“I’m not lying,” I added quickly. “I was never brought into council. I wasn’t allowed in war briefings or strategy meetings. My presence… was inconvenient.”
He made another pause.
Almost immediately, the room crackled with tension, like the very walls were listening. Watching. Waiting for him to decide what came next.
One step, I thought. That’s all it would take. One step and he could crush my throat before I could even scream.
And yet—he didn’t.
His eyes scanned mine.
“So useless after all,” his voice seemed lower than before, but he didn’t leave.
And that—more than anything—terrified me. Why wasn’t he leaving?
“Truly. I was never allowed into council meetings. I wasn’t even permitted to speak during court visits. They don’t tell me anything.” I knew he knew. How could they let me join the meetings? I am weak. Powerless. This man did not come here to ask. He came here to find some random reason to kill his next bride.
A snort followed. “What a useless wolf.” He suddenly held my chin and raised my head up. I swallowed as I stared at his eyes. They weren’t glowing, nor monstrous, but something about them seemed wrong, off.
It was as if something inside him was hungrier than any beast.
“How beautifully useless,” he said, rising again. The calm in his tone only made the venom worse. "What a waste."
Then he snapped his finger, and a man suddenly entered the room from the windows. “Stage something… I don’t care what. Make sure she dies without feeling any pain,” Cassian said. “Make it clean. And by dawn, burn the Nightfall Pack to ash. Let them learn what happens when they mock a King’s decree.”
My eyes flew wide. He meant it. They were going to wipe us out!
“Wait! My lord—!”
He paused mid-step.
Then slowly turned.
That smile again. “Oh? Is there something else the little offering wants to say?”
I took a deep breath, “I believe I can serve you. I– I believe… I can be useful.”
The flicker behind his gaze hinted at interest, not belief. So, I stepped forward toward the nearest guard and reached for the dagger at his waist.
Immediately, a hand clamped down on my wrist. Hard.
“Let me show you something.”
He made a sound, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, then gave a slight nod.
The guard let go without saying a word.
Then, without hesitation, I dragged the blade across my palm.
Blood welled up instantly, dark red and thick, trailing down my fingers and dripping onto the cold wooden floor. Then I turned my hand upward, letting him see it. The blood kept flowing, until it didn’t.
Slowly, the bleeding began to stop. The edges of the wound pulsed faintly, then started to close. Right there, in front of them.
Flesh knitted back together, strand by strand, until the wound disappeared as if it was never there in the first place.
I raised my eyes to meet Cassian’s again.
But before I could say a word, the man beside Cassian drew his sword without hesitation and pointed it straight at my neck. “Stay away witch, or I will slit your throat!”
Reward for Hardword
“Put it down.”
“Be careful, My lord,” the man said, eyes still locked on me. “She’s a witch. Witches can hide their appearance and easily trick you. They must be killed.”
Cassian frowned. He glanced at the man. “Do you smell sulfur?”
The man blinked, confused. “No, my lord.”
“Do you smell anything rotten?”
“…No.”
Cassian looked back at me, then smiled faintly. “Then she’s not a witch. Just a helpless Omega.”
The man’s grip didn’t ease. His eyes flicked toward Cassian like he was debating whether to obey.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Cassian’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
The pressure in the room immediately shifted. The kind of stillness that came before blood was spilled.
Finally, the blade lowered.
A sting lit across my throat, just a thin line, shallow, but it burned. The bastard glared at me like I’d caused it.
Cassian didn’t look at me. “Leave.”
The man didn’t move.
Cassian’s gaze sharpened. “I said, leave and go to the penitentiary hall for a week.”
There was tension in the air for a beat too long. Then the man bowed stiffly and turned on his heel. The door closed behind him.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips. My hand hovered near my neck. Just like the cut on my hand, the wound on my neck was now gone. I swallowed and looked back at Cassian.
“Does anyone else know about this?” he asked.
I let out a short breath and shook my head. “You saw how your man reacted. What do you think my father would do?” A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. “He wouldn’t need a sword. He’d hand me over to the Council himself.” Killing a witch is an honor. But handing a witch to the council would give them merit.
“Not even your lovely little sister?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I didn’t want to expose her to anything or force her to hide this secret for me. It was a burden.” That was an honest answer. How could I let Celeste carry this burden with me? Working with someone that they considered a witch is punishable by death.
Cassian said nothing.
Instead, he stepped forward and took my hand, the one I had cut.
I flinched. “What are you—?”
He brought it to his nose, inhaling slowly like he was memorizing the scent.
I tried to pull away, but his grip didn’t budge.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my heart starting to race. He didn’t answer. Then he stepped closer.
In one clean motion, his other hand slid behind me. Without saying a word, he pressed his face against the side of my neck.
I froze.
The heat of his breath skimmed my skin. His grip on my hand remained firm. I could feel the solid weight of him, the cold dampness of his coat, the quiet threat wrapped around every inch of his stillness.
My heart slammed against my ribs—loud, fast, out of control.
He didn’t move. Not right away. Just stood there, breathing me in like a predator cataloging its prey.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes met mine with a sharpness that pinned me to the floor.
“You don’t smell like blood,” he said.
My face burned. “No… my lord.” What was I even thinking? Of course, he was trying to see how good my ability was.
“And your wounds are healed. No scars or any signs that it has been there.”
“Yes.”
Without hesitation, he took the dagger from my hand and dragged it across his own palm.
My eyes widened. “What are you—”
“Heal it.” It was an order I cannot refuse.
I stared at him. Lunatic! This man is crazy! Yet I took his calloused hand without asking questions.
My fingers touched the wound.
And just like before, it vanished.
The torn skin pulled together seamlessly. No blood, no scar, not even a mark. Like it had never been there at all.
I then quickly pulled my hand away.
This wasn’t normal. Even among wolves, even with fast healing, this wasn’t that. This was something else. Something dangerous.
Cassian looked at his palm, then chuckled.
“So… you’re not a witch.”
I said nothing. My hands stayed at my sides, steady only because I forced them to be.
Everyone knew how witches were marked. Their rituals left a lingering stench of sulfur on their skin. No magic could hide it. Even the finest glimmering glamours decayed in time.
Witches depended on elaborate spells and careful preparations. None of them could heal with a single touch. Something always had to be given back. “I am not,” I answered.
Cassian studied me a second longer, then dropped his hand.
“I can be useful,” I said quietly. “If you spare my family… I’ll serve you. I’ll owe you my life. I’ll bind myself to your name.”
His sneer was immediate.
He turned to face me fully. “And what made you think you had the upper hand?” His voice was cold, amused. “What gave you the idea that you were in a position to offer terms?”
Words caught in my throat. My knees weakened beneath me.
“I could force you to serve me,” he said, stepping closer. “And not even the King would object. I could make you my little pet, and no one would dare ask questions.”
My mouth opened, but no sound came. Shame heated my face as I dropped my gaze. He was right. He could just force me to do his bidding, and I would be powerless. Weak.
“Please…” I whispered. “Spare them. Whatever happens to me… just don’t hurt them.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then suddenly his arm shot out and grabbed me.
“Hey!”
He didn’t answer. One arm locked around my waist, jerking me forward so fast I hit his chest. The wind knocked out of me.
“What are you—” My words choked off.
He leaned close.
“So naive,” he muttered. “Let me show you how great your family really is.”
And then he moved.
There was no time to struggle. No time to think. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, one arm beneath my legs, the other across my back. The window slammed open behind us. Cold air and rain swallowed us whole as he jumped from the roof to a familiar balcony.
He moved like he belonged here, like this had always been his home.
Before I could catch my breath, soft laughter filtered through the door of the balcony. I froze.
“See, Celeste? It worked,” my mother’s voice echoed against my ears. “All those years of pretending, of treating her like one of our own. It paid off.”
My heart stopped. Pretending? What are they talking about?
“She signed that treaty herself. Walked straight into it.”
I stiffened. They were talking about me?
“You were right,” Mother said, her voice swelling with pride. “Convincing her that you were the only one she could trust... it was enough. She sacrificed herself without question. I knew keeping her around would be useful. In the end, I was right.”
“Mother,” Celeste said lightly. “You can’t say that. You’ve treated her like your daughter for years... you should at least feel a little bad, right?”
“Feel bad? Are you jesting?” Mother scoffed. “She’s not my blood. Not your father’s either. She’s leeched off us long enough. We fed her, clothed her, raised her, even though she’s the daughter of a savage. And now? She’s done the one thing she was born to, die for you.”
A sharp ache bloomed in my chest. What are they talking about?
Celeste’s voice came again, softer now, almost wistful. “I guess... knowing she agreed without us forcing her makes me feel less guilty.” Her sweet voice drifted towards me. How could she say that? How could–
A tight grip on my wrist reminded me not to make a sound. I looked at Cassian. He was smiling, pleased with whatever it was he was hearing.
“Don’t,” Mother replied. “This was your idea. And it worked. You’ve secured your future, our pack’s alliance, and you didn’t have to lift a finger. And for that… you deserve a reward for all the hardwork.”
I didn’t breathe. What is this?
What are they saying?
My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms.
“What is this?” Celeste asked.
“A gift,” she said. “You deserve it. You’re the reason this worked.”
“We shouldn’t celebrate yet,” Celeste said. “The Tyrant Lord hasn’t taken her. Until she leaves with him… nothing is guaranteed.”
“Stop worrying,” my mother said with a laugh. “Atasha is nothing but your pet. Once the Tyrant Lord takes her, then her life is sealed…”
And just like that… Everything inside me broke.
Romantic Groom
“Sister… you don’t look well. Are you alright?”
Celeste’s voice slid into the room like warm honey. But I heard the blade behind it now.
I stiffened. My eyes lifted to her face, the same face that once lit up my childhood like a lantern in the dark. She looked perfect, as always. Glossy black hair cascading over her shoulders, warm brown eyes filled with what appeared to be concern. She looked like safety. Like home.
But I knew better now.
“I didn’t sleep,” I said quietly, lowering my gaze. “I… I had a nightmare. About Lord Cassian.”
Her hand landed gently on my shoulder. “Shhh… walls have ears,” she whispered. “You’ve been under so much pressure. I understand. But you have to be careful not to say these things in the future, especially in the north.”
Pressure?
I bit the inside of my cheek. Pressure wasn’t the word. Pressure was what I’d felt the day I failed to awaken my wolf. This… this was something else. After last night, after standing outside that balcony and hearing my own mother hand Celeste a reward for betraying me, there wasn’t anything left inside me to press. I was hollow.
Cassian hadn’t said a word after it happened. He’d just dropped me off on my attic bed, soaked through from the storm, and vanished. Not a taunt. Not a threat. Not even a look. He just left. Somehow… that silence hurt less than Celeste’s smile did now.
Now, I followed Celeste down the corridor like I knew nothing. One foot in front of the other. Surprisingly, I only felt numb.
How could someone act so pure yet so evil at the same time? Perhaps I had been naive, so naive to think that a wolfless girl deserves some love.
“I’ve prepared a bath for you,” Celeste said, as if she were doing me a kindness. I nodded without answering, letting her lead me into the room.
The tub was full of milk and petals, lavender, rose, violet. They were my favorites, and Celeste knew. The water steamed softly in the candlelight. It looked like a bath meant for a queen. Or a bride.
I stripped in silence and stepped in. The warmth soaked into my skin, but it didn’t reach my bones.
Celeste sat beside me, humming, chatting about old memories I barely heard. Something about sneaking pies from the kitchens. How I used to curl up in her bed during thunder.
I remembered those nights. Her arms wrapped around me when the storms got too loud. The time she gave me her scarf after I scraped my knee. How she used to call me “little mouse” when I couldn’t sleep.
Back then, I thought those moments meant something.
Now… I wasn’t so sure.
Lies. All of it. Or maybe not lies. Maybe half-truths twisted into weapons. How cruel.
When we dried off, she took me to her dressing room. “Choose any dress,” she said, opening the wardrobe wide. “Tonight is your introduction. Lord Cassian will be coming to collect his bride.”
Collect his bride. A night ago that would have made me feel a little something, frightened maybe. But now? I felt nothing. Not after what I heard last night.
She pulled out a gown without waiting for my answer. Burgundy. Deep as blood. It would make me look pale, drained. Spectral. The perfect sacrifice.
“This one,” she said with a soft smile. “It’ll bring out the blue in your eyes.”
I nodded again. Wordless. As always.
Then I started to wonder. When did I become this quiet?
I used to laugh. I used to ask questions. I used to dream.
Maybe it was the years of bullying. The mockery. The days I was told to eat by the kitchen door because I didn’t have a wolf. Maybe it was my father’s silence. My mother’s cold voice. Or maybe it was Celeste—my sun—slowly fading into shadow.
Bit by bit, I disappeared. The sunshine in my eyes dulled. The smile on my lips faded. I became what they needed me to be. Obedient and small.
Easy to use. Easy to throw away.
Celeste clapped her hands, and her personal maid entered without a word. “Fix her hair. It needs to be perfect.”
The girl worked quickly, tugging and twisting, weaving in baby’s breath, pale roses, and silver ribbon. I let them dress me up like a doll.
Celeste reached for my hands, brushing her thumbs against my knuckles. “Promise me you won’t forget to write,” she said softly. “I want to know you’re safe… that you’re warm… that you’re okay.”
I stared at her.
“I heard it’s freezing in the north,” she continued. “So I packed more than just coats. The thick fur-lined one Father used to wear, two of Mother’s cloaks, I even tucked in the quilt from the attic, the one you used to steal from my bed.”
My breath caught.
“I packed you some wool socks. The mittens with the velvet lining. An extra blanket or two, just in case the castle’s drafty.”
Each item she listed cut deeper than the last. Was she doing this out of guilt?
She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Take care of yourself, Atasha. Even if no one else will… you have to. Do you understand?”
I nodded and forced another smile.
“If you stop writing letters, I will tell father to visit you,” Celeste pouted. “I am not kidding. You are my only sister. You have to write me letters and tell me all about the snow.”
I looked at her. Really looked at her. And for a moment, I wanted to believe her. That maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t meant to hurt me. Maybe it was for the pack. Maybe she truly believed that marrying the Tyrant Lord would do more harm than good. That tricking me was the only way.
Maybe she told herself it was mercy.
Maybe she thought I’d understand.
But if that were true… why did it still feel like she gutted me with a smile?
I heard her voice last night. I heard her laugh.
And I knew. All those nights we shared secrets under blankets, the jokes in the corridor, the bread rolls passed under the table… none of it mattered. Not when it came down to choosing between me and her future.
So this was what it felt like to be betrayed by someone you love.
“I can take care of myself,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “You don’t have to worry.” I already showed my cursed ability to the Tyrant Lord. In response, he showed me the true face of my family. That should mean something, right? “And I will be writing.”
She looked pleased. Maybe even relieved. As if I’d just made things easier.
“You look like you’re about to cry,” she said, brushing my cheek lightly. “It’ll ruin your makeup.”
I nodded.
Then came the knock.
A different maid stepped inside, her tone brisk. “Lord Cassian has arrived.”
I kept still, studying the girl in the mirror. My skin looked almost translucent, my lips were a deliberate shade of crimson, and my hair lay perfectly secured beneath a row of pearl pins.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A flicker of relief on Celeste’s face.
Then, she slipped a necklace around my neck, her necklace. The one she wore during court visits. “You look so pretty,” she whispered. “He won’t be able to look away.”
I sneered inwardly. That man had tried to end my life just last night. He was a beast, nothing more. He was a monster wrapped in devilish good looks and power he wielded like a blade. If anything, all I wanted now was to stay quiet, stay small and invisible. Out of his line of sight.
“Your hair looked like jewels, like gold,” Celeste smiled. “I’m sure he will love it.”
Again, I nodded. Pearls glinted in my pinned-up hair, strands curled delicately around my face like I was being prepared for display.
For years, I wondered why my hair was blond. Why my eyes were blue. Why I didn’t look like Celeste, or my mother, or anyone else in Nightfall. Everyone else had thick, dark hair. Warm brown eyes. Earth-toned skin kissed by the southern sun.
As for me, I had always seemed out of place. My skin was unnaturally pale, the kind of pale that made people whisper about sickness or fragility. My features are unmistakably foreign. For years I told myself there could be only one reason, I must be an unfortunate anomaly.
Now… I think I finally understood why.
Before my thoughts could spiral, the maid returned. “Alpha Collin requests your presence in the drawing hall,” she said. Then, after a glance, added, “Lord Cassian is adamant on seeing his bride.”
Bride.
I stood. My fingers curled slightly at my sides, just enough to keep them from shaking.
I knew I shouldn’t be mourning. This place had never been kind to me, never warm, never safe. And yet… something inside me pulled back at the thought of leaving.
I should’ve felt relief.
Instead, all I felt was the weight of the unknown.
Because no matter how useful I thought I was… I had seen the way Cassian looked at me. Like he was still deciding whether I was worth keeping or burning.
Sadly, I knew that even the useful bled when he was done with them.
“My, how romantic of him,” Celeste’s voice cut through my daze, her innocent smile sharp as glass. “Elder sister, aren’t you thrilled to meet your groom?”
Marrying a Warhound
I pictured Cassian Valemont stepping over the bodies of his four wives. Did they scream? Did he linger to relish the sound, or stride on, already hunting bride number five?
“Atasha, the council assured us that this marriage is done to appease the young lord. It is nothing but formalities,” my mother’s voice brought me back from my stupor.
Marriage.
Yes. A marriage with Cassian Valemont himself.
I pressed two fingers against the unmarked skin over my heart and tried, one last futile time, to feel even a flicker of fur beneath. Nothing. Empty, the same as yesterday, the same as every day since my sixteenth birthday.
Wolfless.
The word echoed with the thunder hammering the council-hall roof. Each rumble felt like the place chanting the verdict I’d lived with for four years: useless, weak, expendable.
If my wolf had awakened that night, would they still send me north as Cassian Valemont’s fifth bride?
I dragged my eyes back to my parents. Both of them were silent, both waiting for me to say yes.
My father broke the silence first. “If you refuse, the treaty dissolves. Nightfall will stand alone. The Alpha King will not protect us when Fang Demon marches.”
Genevieve, my mother, spoke next. “Think of your sister. Celeste is the future of this pack. We cannot let her marry that man. The north is too far away from our pack. How could she travel—” she paused. “Atasha… you are different. You must marry the lord in her stead.”
I looked at the face that used to glow with pride. “Lord Cassian has been married four times,” I said flatly. “Three of them died on the wedding night. The fourth lasted a week.” Marrying Lord Cassian would be marrying my own killer. How could they send me to my death?
My mother didn’t flinch. “He is widowed now,” she replied quickly. “The envoy swore this union is in name only. You will not remain at his castle. After the ceremony, you can live where you choose. Far from him. Peace, Atasha. Freedom. This is what you want.”
Peace. The word rang hollow.
Four years had passed since my sixteenth birthday, since I failed to awaken, and every day since had proven how little they valued a daughter without a wolf.
Now, thunder rolled again.
My father bent over parchment, quill scratching out the final terms. My mother leaned close. “This bargain saves Celeste and secures the pack. You will finally be free of any duties. This is the freedom that you want.”
Freedom. A life near the border, maybe. Somewhere no one would bother whispering the word “human.” But how could they use the word freedom after trying to convince me to marry Lord Cassian? Right. Nothing says ‘freedom’ like signing myself over to a bride‑killer.
But if I don’t marry him? Who will? Celeste?
I pictured Celeste in white beside the Alpha King. Yes, Celeste should be the one standing next to the Alpha King, not to the King’s crazed brother.
If marrying Cassian Valemont meant protecting Celeste and securing Nightfall, I’d do it. Even a wolfless daughter could still be of use.
I would save Celeste, even if it cost my life. My hand trembled on the quill, then I willed it still and signed in neat strokes—Atasha Genevieve Black.
No applause followed. Deals like this didn’t deserve it.
Near the doors, Celeste caught my eye as she mouthed two words. Thank you.
I simply gave her a nod. This wasn’t her fault. This wasn’t anyone’s fault. I knew that we were both victims of the circumstances and that, if given a choice, Celeste would never let me marry that beast.
“Cassian Valemont will arrive tomorrow night,” my father said. “He will come to get the bride. Prepare your things. We will ensure that your dowry is sufficient. You do not need to think of anything else.”
I nodded as the rain slammed the roof harder.
As the ink dried, I straightened my back. Then I left the room without another word.
A marriage to Cassian Valemont.
The Cassian Valemont. The Alpha’s brother. The one who didn’t follow the council, didn’t answer to the King. The one who led the King’s Army like a warhound let off the leash. The man who killed every bride they gave him. Perhaps my dream of living by the borders was nothing but a fairytale. So maybe I wasn’t destined for a life on the border after all.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I turned right.
My room was in the attic. It used to be a storage space.
When Celeste asked for the larger room on the second floor, no one argued. I was quietly told to move upstairs. I never complained. Complaining was pointless when you didn’t even have a wolf.
Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me.
The attic felt claustrophobic—its low, sloping ceiling pressing down on a single wooden bed, a battered dresser, and a trunk by the window. A threadbare rug barely hid warped floorboards, and cobwebs clung to every corner.
Tonight, the wind howled, and rain lashed the panes, lightning carving jagged shadows through the trees. Sadly, I had no time to linger on the storm.
Lord Cassian arrives tomorrow. Sweat prickled my palms as I hauled the leather trunk from beneath the cot. With a groan, I flipped it open, and a cloud of cedar‑dust revealed the same faded cotton dresses I’d worn since my seventeenth winter, nothing more substantial than a shawl.
I slipped a hand between the cotton layers. I could already feel draughts knifing through the attic boards. If this room chilled me, what would a northern keep do?
The north is a land where the sun seldom rises, a place where frost slicks the stones even at noon. And yet here I was, folding lace into my trunk as if it stood a chance against the cold.
I started looking for something that would at least keep me warm.
After what felt like forever, I found only one cloak thick enough to call a cloak. It was Father’s cast-off hunting wrap, wool scarred by burrs, smelling faintly of pine smoke. I pulled it around my shoulders as I pictured northern wind howling through castle corridors and shoved the cloak into the trunk.
Then, I took Celeste’s quilt from the foot of my bed instead. Midnight blue, stitched with silver thread in tiny moons. She’d sworn it would keep nightmares out. Last night proved otherwise.
Now, the trunk was half-full, half-empty. Pressing the lid down, I fastened the brass latch. The leather creaked, protesting the weight, and so did my heart.
If my wolf had awakened, would I even be here, packing for my own funeral?
Tomorrow, the Tyrant Lord would take his bride to the northern walls, and I would arrive wearing clothes meant for summer. Well, it’s not like I would survive this marriage. I would be lucky if I lasted a month. No. A week.
Another flash of lightning cut across the sky. Thunder cracked close behind it, loud enough to rattle the window.
Then the curtain lifted violently as if something had surged through the room.
Startled, I stood and moved to the window. The latch again, probably. It always slipped loose in storms.
My fingers reached for it… then froze mid-air.
The air had shifted.
The kind of shift every wolf's instinct recognized. And I immediately knew it wasn’t just because of the wind.
Someone else was here.
My chest seized as the curtains whipped aside. I dared not blink, straining to read the darkness. Then I saw him. A man, standing not too far away from me. And it didn’t take too long for me to recognize that face.
It was him! A gasp caught in my throat.
Cassian Valemont!
Lightning fractured the sky, etching his broad shoulders and hard features. Dressed in black, he stood unmoving at the foot of my bed.
For a long, tense moment, the room fell silent as his burnished‑steel eyes felt like ice against my bones, yet I could not look away.
I had seen him before, once beside the King during a coronation, once on a blood-soaked battlefield. But this was different. This was not a man glimpsed from a distance. This was the tyrant lord standing in my room. In my silence.
The Cassian Valemont.
The one mothers warned their children about.
And now he was here as if this night—this storm—belonged to him.
Then he smiled. “You signed your name like a lamb. It makes me curious…” his gaze slid to my throat. “Will your last scream sound like a wolf’s roar or a lamb’s bleat?”
Useless Bride
“I knew you were wolfless,” he continued, voice as steady as the storm outside. “I didn’t know you were mute.”
I forced my feet to move forward, but my voice was gone, swallowed by fear. My throat clenched as I stared at him, sweat slicking my palms against my skirt. I wanted to demand, “How did you slip in unseen?” but all that came out was a ragged hitch in my chest.
“My… My lord,” I lowered my head slightly, careful not to break eye contact too soon. “Please forgive my current state. I was not informed that you would be visiting my humble rooms tonight.”
His steps were soundless across the warped floorboards, yet every movement made the walls feel smaller. He didn’t pace, he prowled, like something untamed that had wandered too far from its leash. Even when still, he moved. Like the storm, like the wind. Always watching. Always ready to strike.
Then he said it, softly, almost idly, like it amused him. “Say… what do you think will happen if the bride ends her own life before the Prince arrives?”
The words slid like a blade between my ribs.
Inside, I froze. Outside, I didn’t even flinch.
I wasn’t stupid.
If he wanted me dead, he could do it now. No one would stop him. No one would question it. And something told me he wouldn’t even blink.
Still, I did my best to control myself. Not too calm, calm would sound practiced. Not too frightened, fear would only feed whatever game this was.
“My death would start a war,” I answered. “If I refuse the King’s decree, if I die before we wed, my entire pack will be annihilated to punish us for insubordination.”
Cassian’s storm‑lit profile didn’t change, but I sensed his gaze sharpen.
“He demands a bride for his brother,” I continued, voice steadier now that the truth was out. “If that bride perishes… the King would see it as treason. He’d give you free rein to cleanse Nightfall.”
He made a deliberate pause. Did I pass? Was that the answer that he wanted to hear?
Then Cassian’s lips curved, not kindly, but slowly, like the smile had been earned. “Clever.”
His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. Not amusement. Not approval.
Something worse.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he said. “They told me you were quiet. Fragile. Dull. But not stupid.”
He stepped closer. The shadows clung to him like smoke, and yet his presence filled the space like fire. I could smell rain on his coat, blood on his past, and something colder beneath it all.
My hands stayed still at my sides.
Do not tremble. Please, do not tremble.
Cassian stood in front of me now, arms loose at his sides. He looked down like he was calculating something— something like how fast he could kill me, or whether it was worth it.
“I did not come here to waste my time on an Omega,” he said. “Your father’s hiding something.”
That threw me off. Just slightly. Not enough to show.
“Hiding… something?” As the Alpha of one of the strongest packs in Arecor, my father has his own secrets. But what does this have to do with me?
He tilted his head. “Something he doesn’t want the King to see. And I want to know what it is.”
Thunder boomed directly above us, loud enough to rattle the glass. Still, I didn’t look away from him.
“I don’t know.”
His brow twitched.
“I’m not lying,” I added quickly. “I was never brought into council. I wasn’t allowed in war briefings or strategy meetings. My presence… was inconvenient.”
He made another pause.
Almost immediately, the room crackled with tension, like the very walls were listening. Watching. Waiting for him to decide what came next.
One step, I thought. That’s all it would take. One step and he could crush my throat before I could even scream.
And yet—he didn’t.
His eyes scanned mine.
“So useless after all,” his voice seemed lower than before, but he didn’t leave.
And that—more than anything—terrified me. Why wasn’t he leaving?
“Truly. I was never allowed into council meetings. I wasn’t even permitted to speak during court visits. They don’t tell me anything.” I knew he knew. How could they let me join the meetings? I am weak. Powerless. This man did not come here to ask. He came here to find some random reason to kill his next bride.
A snort followed. “What a useless wolf.” He suddenly held my chin and raised my head up. I swallowed as I stared at his eyes. They weren’t glowing, nor monstrous, but something about them seemed wrong, off.
It was as if something inside him was hungrier than any beast.
“How beautifully useless,” he said, rising again. The calm in his tone only made the venom worse. "What a waste."
Then he snapped his finger, and a man suddenly entered the room from the windows. “Stage something… I don’t care what. Make sure she dies without feeling any pain,” Cassian said. “Make it clean. And by dawn, burn the Nightfall Pack to ash. Let them learn what happens when they mock a King’s decree.”
My eyes flew wide. He meant it. They were going to wipe us out!
“Wait! My lord—!”
He paused mid-step.
Then slowly turned.
That smile again. “Oh? Is there something else the little offering wants to say?”
I took a deep breath, “I believe I can serve you. I– I believe… I can be useful.”
The flicker behind his gaze hinted at interest, not belief. So, I stepped forward toward the nearest guard and reached for the dagger at his waist.
Immediately, a hand clamped down on my wrist. Hard.
“Let me show you something.”
He made a sound, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, then gave a slight nod.
The guard let go without saying a word.
Then, without hesitation, I dragged the blade across my palm.
Blood welled up instantly, dark red and thick, trailing down my fingers and dripping onto the cold wooden floor. Then I turned my hand upward, letting him see it. The blood kept flowing, until it didn’t.
Slowly, the bleeding began to stop. The edges of the wound pulsed faintly, then started to close. Right there, in front of them.
Flesh knitted back together, strand by strand, until the wound disappeared as if it was never there in the first place.
I raised my eyes to meet Cassian’s again.
But before I could say a word, the man beside Cassian drew his sword without hesitation and pointed it straight at my neck. “Stay away witch, or I will slit your throat!”
Reward for Hardword
“Put it down.”
“Be careful, My lord,” the man said, eyes still locked on me. “She’s a witch. Witches can hide their appearance and easily trick you. They must be killed.”
Cassian frowned. He glanced at the man. “Do you smell sulfur?”
The man blinked, confused. “No, my lord.”
“Do you smell anything rotten?”
“…No.”
Cassian looked back at me, then smiled faintly. “Then she’s not a witch. Just a helpless Omega.”
The man’s grip didn’t ease. His eyes flicked toward Cassian like he was debating whether to obey.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Cassian’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
The pressure in the room immediately shifted. The kind of stillness that came before blood was spilled.
Finally, the blade lowered.
A sting lit across my throat, just a thin line, shallow, but it burned. The bastard glared at me like I’d caused it.
Cassian didn’t look at me. “Leave.”
The man didn’t move.
Cassian’s gaze sharpened. “I said, leave and go to the penitentiary hall for a week.”
There was tension in the air for a beat too long. Then the man bowed stiffly and turned on his heel. The door closed behind him.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips. My hand hovered near my neck. Just like the cut on my hand, the wound on my neck was now gone. I swallowed and looked back at Cassian.
“Does anyone else know about this?” he asked.
I let out a short breath and shook my head. “You saw how your man reacted. What do you think my father would do?” A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. “He wouldn’t need a sword. He’d hand me over to the Council himself.” Killing a witch is an honor. But handing a witch to the council would give them merit.
“Not even your lovely little sister?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I didn’t want to expose her to anything or force her to hide this secret for me. It was a burden.” That was an honest answer. How could I let Celeste carry this burden with me? Working with someone that they considered a witch is punishable by death.
Cassian said nothing.
Instead, he stepped forward and took my hand, the one I had cut.
I flinched. “What are you—?”
He brought it to his nose, inhaling slowly like he was memorizing the scent.
I tried to pull away, but his grip didn’t budge.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my heart starting to race. He didn’t answer. Then he stepped closer.
In one clean motion, his other hand slid behind me. Without saying a word, he pressed his face against the side of my neck.
I froze.
The heat of his breath skimmed my skin. His grip on my hand remained firm. I could feel the solid weight of him, the cold dampness of his coat, the quiet threat wrapped around every inch of his stillness.
My heart slammed against my ribs—loud, fast, out of control.
He didn’t move. Not right away. Just stood there, breathing me in like a predator cataloging its prey.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes met mine with a sharpness that pinned me to the floor.
“You don’t smell like blood,” he said.
My face burned. “No… my lord.” What was I even thinking? Of course, he was trying to see how good my ability was.
“And your wounds are healed. No scars or any signs that it has been there.”
“Yes.”
Without hesitation, he took the dagger from my hand and dragged it across his own palm.
My eyes widened. “What are you—”
“Heal it.” It was an order I cannot refuse.
I stared at him. Lunatic! This man is crazy! Yet I took his calloused hand without asking questions.
My fingers touched the wound.
And just like before, it vanished.
The torn skin pulled together seamlessly. No blood, no scar, not even a mark. Like it had never been there at all.
I then quickly pulled my hand away.
This wasn’t normal. Even among wolves, even with fast healing, this wasn’t that. This was something else. Something dangerous.
Cassian looked at his palm, then chuckled.
“So… you’re not a witch.”
I said nothing. My hands stayed at my sides, steady only because I forced them to be.
Everyone knew how witches were marked. Their rituals left a lingering stench of sulfur on their skin. No magic could hide it. Even the finest glimmering glamours decayed in time.
Witches depended on elaborate spells and careful preparations. None of them could heal with a single touch. Something always had to be given back. “I am not,” I answered.
Cassian studied me a second longer, then dropped his hand.
“I can be useful,” I said quietly. “If you spare my family… I’ll serve you. I’ll owe you my life. I’ll bind myself to your name.”
His sneer was immediate.
He turned to face me fully. “And what made you think you had the upper hand?” His voice was cold, amused. “What gave you the idea that you were in a position to offer terms?”
Words caught in my throat. My knees weakened beneath me.
“I could force you to serve me,” he said, stepping closer. “And not even the King would object. I could make you my little pet, and no one would dare ask questions.”
My mouth opened, but no sound came. Shame heated my face as I dropped my gaze. He was right. He could just force me to do his bidding, and I would be powerless. Weak.
“Please…” I whispered. “Spare them. Whatever happens to me… just don’t hurt them.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then suddenly his arm shot out and grabbed me.
“Hey!”
He didn’t answer. One arm locked around my waist, jerking me forward so fast I hit his chest. The wind knocked out of me.
“What are you—” My words choked off.
He leaned close.
“So naive,” he muttered. “Let me show you how great your family really is.”
And then he moved.
There was no time to struggle. No time to think. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, one arm beneath my legs, the other across my back. The window slammed open behind us. Cold air and rain swallowed us whole as he jumped from the roof to a familiar balcony.
He moved like he belonged here, like this had always been his home.
Before I could catch my breath, soft laughter filtered through the door of the balcony. I froze.
“See, Celeste? It worked,” my mother’s voice echoed against my ears. “All those years of pretending, of treating her like one of our own. It paid off.”
My heart stopped. Pretending? What are they talking about?
“She signed that treaty herself. Walked straight into it.”
I stiffened. They were talking about me?
“You were right,” Mother said, her voice swelling with pride. “Convincing her that you were the only one she could trust... it was enough. She sacrificed herself without question. I knew keeping her around would be useful. In the end, I was right.”
“Mother,” Celeste said lightly. “You can’t say that. You’ve treated her like your daughter for years... you should at least feel a little bad, right?”
“Feel bad? Are you jesting?” Mother scoffed. “She’s not my blood. Not your father’s either. She’s leeched off us long enough. We fed her, clothed her, raised her, even though she’s the daughter of a savage. And now? She’s done the one thing she was born to, die for you.”
A sharp ache bloomed in my chest. What are they talking about?
Celeste’s voice came again, softer now, almost wistful. “I guess... knowing she agreed without us forcing her makes me feel less guilty.” Her sweet voice drifted towards me. How could she say that? How could–
A tight grip on my wrist reminded me not to make a sound. I looked at Cassian. He was smiling, pleased with whatever it was he was hearing.
“Don’t,” Mother replied. “This was your idea. And it worked. You’ve secured your future, our pack’s alliance, and you didn’t have to lift a finger. And for that… you deserve a reward for all the hardwork.”
I didn’t breathe. What is this?
What are they saying?
My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms.
“What is this?” Celeste asked.
“A gift,” she said. “You deserve it. You’re the reason this worked.”
“We shouldn’t celebrate yet,” Celeste said. “The Tyrant Lord hasn’t taken her. Until she leaves with him… nothing is guaranteed.”
“Stop worrying,” my mother said with a laugh. “Atasha is nothing but your pet. Once the Tyrant Lord takes her, then her life is sealed…”
And just like that… Everything inside me broke.
Romantic Groom
“Sister… you don’t look well. Are you alright?”
Celeste’s voice slid into the room like warm honey. But I heard the blade behind it now.
I stiffened. My eyes lifted to her face, the same face that once lit up my childhood like a lantern in the dark. She looked perfect, as always. Glossy black hair cascading over her shoulders, warm brown eyes filled with what appeared to be concern. She looked like safety. Like home.
But I knew better now.
“I didn’t sleep,” I said quietly, lowering my gaze. “I… I had a nightmare. About Lord Cassian.”
Her hand landed gently on my shoulder. “Shhh… walls have ears,” she whispered. “You’ve been under so much pressure. I understand. But you have to be careful not to say these things in the future, especially in the north.”
Pressure?
I bit the inside of my cheek. Pressure wasn’t the word. Pressure was what I’d felt the day I failed to awaken my wolf. This… this was something else. After last night, after standing outside that balcony and hearing my own mother hand Celeste a reward for betraying me, there wasn’t anything left inside me to press. I was hollow.
Cassian hadn’t said a word after it happened. He’d just dropped me off on my attic bed, soaked through from the storm, and vanished. Not a taunt. Not a threat. Not even a look. He just left. Somehow… that silence hurt less than Celeste’s smile did now.
Now, I followed Celeste down the corridor like I knew nothing. One foot in front of the other. Surprisingly, I only felt numb.
How could someone act so pure yet so evil at the same time? Perhaps I had been naive, so naive to think that a wolfless girl deserves some love.
“I’ve prepared a bath for you,” Celeste said, as if she were doing me a kindness. I nodded without answering, letting her lead me into the room.
The tub was full of milk and petals, lavender, rose, violet. They were my favorites, and Celeste knew. The water steamed softly in the candlelight. It looked like a bath meant for a queen. Or a bride.
I stripped in silence and stepped in. The warmth soaked into my skin, but it didn’t reach my bones.
Celeste sat beside me, humming, chatting about old memories I barely heard. Something about sneaking pies from the kitchens. How I used to curl up in her bed during thunder.
I remembered those nights. Her arms wrapped around me when the storms got too loud. The time she gave me her scarf after I scraped my knee. How she used to call me “little mouse” when I couldn’t sleep.
Back then, I thought those moments meant something.
Now… I wasn’t so sure.
Lies. All of it. Or maybe not lies. Maybe half-truths twisted into weapons. How cruel.
When we dried off, she took me to her dressing room. “Choose any dress,” she said, opening the wardrobe wide. “Tonight is your introduction. Lord Cassian will be coming to collect his bride.”
Collect his bride. A night ago that would have made me feel a little something, frightened maybe. But now? I felt nothing. Not after what I heard last night.
She pulled out a gown without waiting for my answer. Burgundy. Deep as blood. It would make me look pale, drained. Spectral. The perfect sacrifice.
“This one,” she said with a soft smile. “It’ll bring out the blue in your eyes.”
I nodded again. Wordless. As always.
Then I started to wonder. When did I become this quiet?
I used to laugh. I used to ask questions. I used to dream.
Maybe it was the years of bullying. The mockery. The days I was told to eat by the kitchen door because I didn’t have a wolf. Maybe it was my father’s silence. My mother’s cold voice. Or maybe it was Celeste—my sun—slowly fading into shadow.
Bit by bit, I disappeared. The sunshine in my eyes dulled. The smile on my lips faded. I became what they needed me to be. Obedient and small.
Easy to use. Easy to throw away.
Celeste clapped her hands, and her personal maid entered without a word. “Fix her hair. It needs to be perfect.”
The girl worked quickly, tugging and twisting, weaving in baby’s breath, pale roses, and silver ribbon. I let them dress me up like a doll.
Celeste reached for my hands, brushing her thumbs against my knuckles. “Promise me you won’t forget to write,” she said softly. “I want to know you’re safe… that you’re warm… that you’re okay.”
I stared at her.
“I heard it’s freezing in the north,” she continued. “So I packed more than just coats. The thick fur-lined one Father used to wear, two of Mother’s cloaks, I even tucked in the quilt from the attic, the one you used to steal from my bed.”
My breath caught.
“I packed you some wool socks. The mittens with the velvet lining. An extra blanket or two, just in case the castle’s drafty.”
Each item she listed cut deeper than the last. Was she doing this out of guilt?
She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Take care of yourself, Atasha. Even if no one else will… you have to. Do you understand?”
I nodded and forced another smile.
“If you stop writing letters, I will tell father to visit you,” Celeste pouted. “I am not kidding. You are my only sister. You have to write me letters and tell me all about the snow.”
I looked at her. Really looked at her. And for a moment, I wanted to believe her. That maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t meant to hurt me. Maybe it was for the pack. Maybe she truly believed that marrying the Tyrant Lord would do more harm than good. That tricking me was the only way.
Maybe she told herself it was mercy.
Maybe she thought I’d understand.
But if that were true… why did it still feel like she gutted me with a smile?
I heard her voice last night. I heard her laugh.
And I knew. All those nights we shared secrets under blankets, the jokes in the corridor, the bread rolls passed under the table… none of it mattered. Not when it came down to choosing between me and her future.
So this was what it felt like to be betrayed by someone you love.
“I can take care of myself,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “You don’t have to worry.” I already showed my cursed ability to the Tyrant Lord. In response, he showed me the true face of my family. That should mean something, right? “And I will be writing.”
She looked pleased. Maybe even relieved. As if I’d just made things easier.
“You look like you’re about to cry,” she said, brushing my cheek lightly. “It’ll ruin your makeup.”
I nodded.
Then came the knock.
A different maid stepped inside, her tone brisk. “Lord Cassian has arrived.”
I kept still, studying the girl in the mirror. My skin looked almost translucent, my lips were a deliberate shade of crimson, and my hair lay perfectly secured beneath a row of pearl pins.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A flicker of relief on Celeste’s face.
Then, she slipped a necklace around my neck, her necklace. The one she wore during court visits. “You look so pretty,” she whispered. “He won’t be able to look away.”
I sneered inwardly. That man had tried to end my life just last night. He was a beast, nothing more. He was a monster wrapped in devilish good looks and power he wielded like a blade. If anything, all I wanted now was to stay quiet, stay small and invisible. Out of his line of sight.
“Your hair looked like jewels, like gold,” Celeste smiled. “I’m sure he will love it.”
Again, I nodded. Pearls glinted in my pinned-up hair, strands curled delicately around my face like I was being prepared for display.
For years, I wondered why my hair was blond. Why my eyes were blue. Why I didn’t look like Celeste, or my mother, or anyone else in Nightfall. Everyone else had thick, dark hair. Warm brown eyes. Earth-toned skin kissed by the southern sun.
As for me, I had always seemed out of place. My skin was unnaturally pale, the kind of pale that made people whisper about sickness or fragility. My features are unmistakably foreign. For years I told myself there could be only one reason, I must be an unfortunate anomaly.
Now… I think I finally understood why.
Before my thoughts could spiral, the maid returned. “Alpha Collin requests your presence in the drawing hall,” she said. Then, after a glance, added, “Lord Cassian is adamant on seeing his bride.”
Bride.
I stood. My fingers curled slightly at my sides, just enough to keep them from shaking.
I knew I shouldn’t be mourning. This place had never been kind to me, never warm, never safe. And yet… something inside me pulled back at the thought of leaving.
I should’ve felt relief.
Instead, all I felt was the weight of the unknown.
Because no matter how useful I thought I was… I had seen the way Cassian looked at me. Like he was still deciding whether I was worth keeping or burning.
Sadly, I knew that even the useful bled when he was done with them.
“My, how romantic of him,” Celeste’s voice cut through my daze, her innocent smile sharp as glass. “Elder sister, aren’t you thrilled to meet your groom?”