To be Continued
812 Words
That night, her father’s mansion was glowing with life. The long dining table was covered in elegant silverware, roses, and candles. Her father stood at the far end, smiling as she entered in a simple white dress.
“You look like your mother,” he said softly, kissing her forehead.
Kiara’s smile softened. “I wish she could see this.”
“She’s watching,” her father said, his tone calm, but his eyes darkened — like there was something behind them he didn’t say.
As they ate, Kiara asked, “Dad… are you inviting my classmates to the birthday?”
Her father smiled faintly. “Not just them. I’m inviting everyone.”
“Everyone?” she repeated, surprised.
“Yes. I want the world to see how proud I am of you.”
He took a sip of wine, then answered a call.
His voice dropped — calm, but edged with command.
“Make sure the deliveries are safe. No loose ends. You know what happens if there are mistakes.”
Kiara froze.
When he noticed her watching, his smile returned instantly. “Business, sweetheart. Just business.”
The next day, the bullying didn’t stop — but something about Kiara felt different. Stronger.
When Regina and her group passed by her table, whispering cruel things, Kiara ignored them completely — her gaze cold, steady, unbothered.
It made Regina furious. “Oh, she thinks she’s untouchable now?”
Her friend snickered. “Maybe her rich daddy’s finally paying off the teachers.”
“Maybe we should remind her she’s still just a nobody.”
But before Regina could do anything, Lance appeared again — calm but dangerous in the way he stood.
He looked at Regina and said, “You’re running out of courage, Alcaraz. Maybe you should find a hobby that doesn’t make you look desperate.”
Regina’s face turned red. “You think you can talk to me like that?”
“I just did.”
This time, everyone in the hallway turned silent.
Regina walked off, fuming.
Kiara stared at Lance, half impressed, half confused.
“You always show up at the right time,” she said.
He smirked. “Maybe I like trouble.”
She smiled — for real this time.
That evening, Kiara returned home — only to find the mansion unusually crowded.
Strange men in black suits were moving around the grounds, carrying boxes, checking corners, and speaking in codes.
Her father wasn’t in the living room, but she could hear him in his office — his deep voice echoing behind the door.
“Make sure the weapons are clean. No police interference this time.”
A pause.
“Yes, I said weapons. You heard me.”
Kiara’s heart stopped.
Weapons?
She stepped closer, just enough to hear more.
“The shipment leaves tomorrow night. I’ll handle the buyers myself. No mistakes.”
She accidentally kicked a small vase by the door — c***k!
The sound echoed.
The voices stopped.
Her father opened the door suddenly, his expression shifting from cold power to warm affection in a heartbeat.
“Kiara! You’re home.”
“Uh—yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
He chuckled softly. “Business talk. Boring stuff. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
But as he hugged her, she noticed something she’d never seen before — a gun holster under his suit jacket.
Her stomach tightened.
Her father — kind, gentle, loving — carried a gun?
That night, she couldn’t sleep.
She sat by her window, watching lightning flash across the sky.
Her father’s voice replayed in her head.
Weapons. Buyers. No police interference.
She whispered, “What are you hiding, Dad?”
Then her phone buzzed.
A message — unknown number.
“Be careful who you trust, Princess.
Shadows move closer every day.”
Her heart pounded. “Who is this?” she texted back.
No reply.
At school the next morning, Lance noticed her pale face.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said quietly.
Kiara shook her head. “My dad’s been acting strange.”
“How strange?”
She hesitated. “He’s… different lately. Busy. Secretive. I heard him talking about weapons.”
Lance’s jaw tensed — just slightly.
“Maybe it’s business,” he said.
“It didn’t sound like business.”
He turned away for a moment, hiding the flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Because he knew.
He knew exactly who her father was.
But he couldn’t tell her. Not yet.
That night, Kiara’s father stood in his office, staring at a framed photo of her as a child.
Beside him, a man in a dark suit whispered, “Sir, our enemies know about your daughter. They might use her.”
Alejandro Monteverde’s gaze hardened.
“Then let them try. But they’ll regret it.”
- Writer
