Bound by shadows

The Shadow of the Past

The rain hadn’t stopped by the time I returned to my penthouse.

From the floor to ceiling windows of the top floor, the city glittered below, alive and hungry. But for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like the king of it. I felt cornered.

I poured myself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid steady in my hand despite the storm raging inside

Serena Vale.

The name tasted bitter. My father had tied my legacy to a woman like her, an escort, a scandal, someone who didn’t belong in my world. Why?

I grabbed my phone and dialed. Find me everything you can on Serena Vale. I ordered my private investigator. I don’t care how deep you have to dig. I want names, dates, and addresses. If she so much as jaywalked at sixteen, I want it on my desk by morning.

Understood.

I ended the call and drained my glass. I would expose her, strip away the calm mask she wore in that office, and prove she was nothing but a manipulator who’d conned my father.

The next morning, the file landed on my desk.

I flipped it open, my eyes scanning the pages. Born in poverty. Foster homes. No criminal record. A short stint in high-end escort work under an alias, years ago. Then she disappeared completely.


No steady employment. No social circles. Nothing.

I frowned. That kind of clean break didn’t happen by accident. She was hiding something.

A knock came at the door. My assistant poked her head in. Sir, Ms. Vale is here.

Every muscle in my body tightened. Send her in.

Serena walked in like she owned the place. No hesitation, no shame. Her simple dress clung to her curves, understated yet impossible to ignore. She met my gaze directly, as if daring me to make the first move.

You’re brave, I said coldly, leaning back in my chair. Most people don’t walk straight into a lion’s den.

Most lions, Serena replied smoothly, aren’t locked in their own cages.

My jaw tightened. Clever. Tell me, what game are you playing? Did you seduce my father? Blackmail him? Convince him to write you into his will as some sort of

Careful, she interrupted softly, her eyes flashing. You speak about things you don’t understand.

I pushed the file across the desk. I understand plenty. I know what you were. And I know people like you don’t change. So why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here, before I destroy you?

She didn’t look at the file. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned forward, placing her hands on his desk, her voice low and cutting.

You can dig through my past all you like, Mr. Veyron. But the truth you’re looking for isn’t in my file, it’s in your father’s. And when you finally see it, you’ll wish you’d married me without asking questions.

The air between us crackled, sharp and charged, something unspoken pulling at me even as anger roared through my veins.

And just like at the funeral, Serena turned and walked out before I could find the words to stop her.

Leaving me with a whiskey glass in my hand, a file full of half-truths, and the gnawing sense that for the first time in my life I wasn’t the one in control.