Bound by betrayal

CHAPTER ONE: “The Heiress of Shadows” Juliana's point of view The conference room at the top floor of Vegas Enterprise’s headquarters was a fortress of steel, glass, and dominance. The city of Montreal stretched far and wide through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but all eyes were locked on me. I sat at the head of the table,polished walnut, imported from Milan,surrounded by men twice my age and three times as skeptical. Global investors. Old money. New greed. “If your supply chain collapses in a storm, I don’t want an explanation. I want prevention,” I said crisply, tapping the gold Montblanc pen against the edge of my leather folder. “Can you guarantee that?” Silence fell. I watched their hesitation like a hawk. I could smell fear the way most people smelled coffee. “Yes, Ms. Vegas,” the man on my left finally said, his voice clipped. “We’ve shifted to drone-supported freight logistics. No delays in eighteen months.” I nodded once, sharp and final. “Then you’ll receive our conditions by tomorrow. If you agree, we move forward. If not,thank you for coming.” Just like that, the meeting dissolved. I stood, collecting my notes, ignoring the murmured compliments as they left. Respect. Wariness. Awe. All useful currencies. All carefully earned. I moved toward the wall of glass, staring out at the skyline. My reflection stared back,flawless makeup, severe bun, a navy blazer sculpted to perfection. A queen carved from ice. But underneath? I was tired. And cold. I traced the golden feather pendant resting just above my collarbone. The only thing from my mother I still wore. The only warmth I allowed near my heart. --- Ten years ago. Rain blurred the gravestones like tears the sky hadn’t finished shedding. I stood between two caskets, numb. Black lace sleeves clung to my skin, soaked and suffocating. “You’re the new CEO,” the lawyer had told me the same day. “Per your father’s wishes. Effective immediately.” I was sixteen. A child still clinging to the edge of grief, suddenly thrust into a world of contracts, power suits, and backroom threats. They didn’t expect me to survive. So I became the storm. --- “Okay, drama queen, blink if you’re plotting a corporate assassination.” I turned to see Regina leaning against the glass wall of my office, two cups of coffee in hand and her usual devil-may-care smile painted in red lipstick. “You’re late,” I said flatly. “You’re early. Or always here. Or both.” She handed me one of the cups and flopped onto the white leather couch, kicking off her heels. “So, how many investors did you scare off this time?” “None. Yet.” Regina laughed, propping her legs up on the coffee table. “I swear, Jules, you could sell silence to a mime. Anyway, you missed our yoga class. Again.” I took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle the chill in my chest. “I had meetings.” “You always have meetings.” “And you always have questions.” She shrugged. “Guilty. But it’s hard watching my best friend turn into a robot CEO.” “I’m not a robot.” “No? Then why haven’t you dated in five years? Don’t tell me the board needs approval for your love life.” I gave her a sharp look, but she only smiled brighter. I could dodge Regina’s teasing for hours,except when her voice softened, like it did now. “You ever talk about that day? The funeral?” My fingers tightened around the cup. “What’s the point?” She bit her lip, then stood. “Maybe to feel something.” But she dropped the subject like always. Like she knew she wasn’t ready either. Later that evening, I sat behind my desk when Damon Vegas stepped in without knocking. My uncle. Still charming. Still dangerous. “You missed the dinner invitation,” he said casually, settling into the guest chair like he owned it. “I made osso buco.” “You made passive-aggressive commentary. I wasn’t hungry.” His smile twitched. “That temper of yours. It’s very… Erica.” “Thank you,” I said coolly. “I miss her fire.” “And your father’s steel,” he added, leaning back. “He was a brilliant man. Shame you didn’t inherit his patience.” “And yet, here I am,still CEO.” “For now.” That landed like a stone between us. He straightened his cuffs. “I’m just concerned. You’re growing fast. Expanding hard. What if things,collapse?” “I built this empire from ashes. I’m not afraid of fire.” “Are you sure you’re building an empire, not a wall?” he asked softly. “There’s a difference.” I said nothing. His eyes lingered too long. His words were polite. His tone was poison. When he finally left, I exhaled, locking the door behind him. Regina was right. I didn’t talk about that day. I didn’t talk about anything beyond spreadsheets and security codes. Because trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I powered on my private tablet, intending to draft tomorrow’s agenda. But an encrypted message blinked on the screen. From: Private Curator — Athena Gallery, San Francisco Subject: Invitation – Private Art Gala Date: Friday, April 14 Location: Confidential RSVP Required Special Guest: Nathan Cross My blood turned to ice. Nathan Cross. The name pulsed in my chest like a ghost refusing to rest. I stared at it for a long time. Then, almost involuntarily, I whispered to myself, “He found me.” I sat frozen for a minute, tablet in hand, heart thundering in a way it hadn’t in years. Nathan Cross. I hadn’t heard that name in nearly a decade. And yet, seeing it now made everything else fall away,the contracts, the control, the careful way I kept my emotions locked behind iron doors. I wasn’t prepared for this. I stood abruptly, the leather chair creaking behind me. I needed air. Or maybe I needed someone to say I wasn’t imagining it. Crossing the office, I headed straight for the executive lounge, where I knew Regina would still be,probably raiding the minibar and critiquing my wine selection. She looked up as I entered, halfway through uncorking a bottle of Pinot Noir. “Wow. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or worse, a press leak.” I didn’t speak right away. Just handed her the tablet. Her eyes scanned the screen. Then widened. “Holy hell,” she whispered. “Nathan Cross?” I nodded slowly. She let out a low whistle and flopped onto the velvet settee. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in forever. I thought he fell off the grid after,well, you know.” “So did I,” I said quietly. Regina studied my face, her teasing replaced by something gentler. “And now he’s inviting you to some ultra-exclusive art gala in San Francisco. God, that’s so… cinematic.” “It doesn’t make sense. Why now?” She shrugged. “Maybe he never stopped looking for you.” That thought sent a strange heat fluttering through my chest,unfamiliar, unwelcome. “I don’t know if I should go.” “Oh, you’re going,” she said firmly, standing and placing her hands on my shoulders. “This is the first time I’ve seen you react to anything that didn’t involve a quarterly report or hostile acquisition.” I gave her a look. “You make it sound like I’m emotionally bankrupt.” She smiled. “You’re emotionally in savings, not checking. But that’s okay. This—” she tapped the tablet, “—this could be good for you. Or at the very least, interesting.” I hesitated, the weight of years pressing on me like fog. But a small ember sparked somewhere deep in my chest. Hope? Curiosity? Madness? “I’ll need to arrange security,” I murmured. Regina rolled her eyes. “Of course you will. But first, go shopping. You’re not walking into a Nathan Cross gala in a power suit.” I smirked. “Says the woman who wore leather boots to my board meeting last month.” “And I still got compliments. Come on, Jules. Let yourself be someone else for a night.” Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to be more than just the shadow that ruled an empire. Because Nathan Cross had found me. And part of me,despite everything,wanted to be found.