The Gunshots
The world never knew I existed.
For twenty-three years, I have been a ghost, hidden behind the marble walls of the Delacroix estate, watching from the shadows as my father’s empire was groomed for my half-brother, Leon.
And that was fine.
I never wanted the crown. Never cared about the power struggles, the politics, the obscene amounts of wealth that ran through our bloodline like a curse.
But tonight, everything changes, because tonight, Leon dies.
The Delacroix Heir Gala is in full gear. It's the kind of event that headlines international news. A room full of billionaires, politicians, and power brokers, all gathering to witness the official transition of power from our father’s legacy into Leon’s hands.
I am not supposed to be here.
I don’t belong among the gold-plated walls, the crystal chandeliers, the whispers of wealth and ambition.
But I couldn’t stay away.
So I watch from the second-floor balcony, hidden behind the silk curtains, a glass of untouched champagne in my hand as I observe the world that never wanted me.
Below, Leon stands on the grand stage, his sharp tuxedo crisp, his signature smirk lighting up the room as he delivers his speech. The man was made for this. Confident. Charismatic. The golden son of the Delacroix dynasty.
"This company is more than an empire," Leon says, his voice smooth as silk, "it's a legacy. And as I stand here tonight, I vow to honor my father’s vision. To lead Delacroix Industries into a new era of power and innovation...”
A gunshot splits the air.
At first, the crowd doesn’t react. They think it’s part of the show, a champagne cork, anything but what it is.
But when blood splatters across the white marble, painting the stage in red, the illusion shatters.
A second shot.
Leon’s body jerks violently.
His champagne glass crashes to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces as he staggers forward, clutching his stomach, eyes wide with disbelief.
A third shot.
This one sends him collapsing onto the stage.
Screams erupt. Women in designer gowns shove past each other, men in tailored suits drag their wives toward the exits. The security detail springs into action, but it’s already too late.
My brother. The heir to the Delacroix empire, has fallen.
My pulse slams in my throat as I back away from the railing, my mind fracturing between horror and disbelief.
And then, I feel eyes on me.
Not just the chaotic, panicked guests. Someone is watching me.
I turn.
A figure stands in the dim corridor, half-lit by the golden glow of the chandeliers below.
Tall. Powerful. Cloaked in darkness.
Caius Wolfe.
Leon’s right-hand man. The ruthless, enigmatic CEO of Wolfe International.
A man Leon trusted with his life.
His dark eyes lock onto mine. Unblinking. Calculating. As if he already knew I would be here.
As if he had been waiting.
“Miss Delacroix,” he murmurs.
I freeze.
No one calls me that.
No one even acknowledges I exist.
But Caius? He’s looking at me like I matter. Like I am suddenly important.
Like he knew this was coming.
The realization slams into me like a freight train.
Leon is dead.
Which means… the empire has no heir.
And then....the gunfire starts again.
Shots ricochet through the ballroom, cutting through the chandeliers, shattering champagne towers, sending guests into a full-blown stampede.
Caius moves fast.
Before I can think, his hand grips my wrist, and suddenly, I’m being pulled down the hallway, my heels struggling to keep up.
“We need to go,” he says, his voice sharp, urgent.
I dig my heels into the marble floor. “Wait...where are we....”
“No time, Zariah.”
The way he says my name like he’s been waiting to say it for years, makes my stomach twist.
I try to wrench my hand away, but his grip is like iron.
“Let me go,” I hiss. “I don’t know you...”
“No,” he says calmly, and that’s the terrifying part. His voice isn’t frantic, isn’t shaken by the bloodshed behind us.
It’s controlled. Prepared.
Like he’s done this before.
“Listen to me,” he continues, his voice low, measured. “Leon is dead. Your family is already scrambling to claim what’s his. But there’s something they don’t know.”
I glare at him. “And what’s that?”
He pauses at the end of the corridor, pulling open a door that leads into the private back entrance of the estate.
Then he looks at me.
“You,” he says. “You are the real heir, Zariah. And you’re about to become the most hunted woman in this city.”
I don’t have time to process his words as he pulls open the door of a black sedan parked at the garage and push me in.
But the next morning, as Leon’s will is read it all comes back to me.
And the entire world learns a secret they were never supposed to know.
Leon Delacroix left everything to me.
