Chapter One – The Knock
Aurora Haye’s POV
The storm hadn’t stopped all day.
It felt like it followed me from the cemetery, beating against my window now, louder than my thoughts.
I dropped my bag on the couch and froze.
There it was.
A chest. Sitting right in the middle of my apartment like it owned the place. Old wood, brass corners, the kind of thing that looked harmless until you realized you had no idea how it got there.
My chest tightened. I knew it instantly.
My father’s chest.
He used to guard it like it carried his soul. “Don’t touch it, Aurora,” he’d say, hand tightening on the lid. “Not until you’re ready.” Then he died, and the chest disappeared. My mother never spoke about it, and I learned not to ask.
Now, the day she was buried, it’s back.
On top sat an envelope with my name written in her handwriting. My hands shook as I tore it open.
Aurora,
If you’re reading this, I couldn’t protect you anymore. What’s inside this chest is dangerous. People will kill for it. Trust no one. Especially not Damien Voss. Never let him near it. Survive. Forgive me.
—Mother
I read it three times before my vision blurred. My mother, even in death, managed to leave me with more secrets than answers.
And Damien Voss? Of all the names in the world, why him?
Everyone knew the Voss family. Billionaires. Untouchable. The kind of people you didn’t say no to, even when you wanted to.
Damien wasn’t the type plastered on glossy magazines. He was worse. Ruthless. Cold. And according to my mother, the one man I should never, ever trust.
I laughed, a short, broken sound. “Great. This day just keeps getting better.”
I tried the chest. Locked, of course. I searched everywhere, tearing through my drawers and under the cushions. Nothing. No key. Just a mystery that hummed in the air like static.
I was still staring at it when someone knocked.
I jumped, heart slamming against my ribs. It wasn’t a neighbor’s friendly tap. This was firm. Demanding.
Another knock.
I swallowed hard and crept to the door. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
I pressed my eye to the peephole.
And stopped breathing.
Damien Voss stood in the hallway.
Tall. Broad. Drenched from the storm but standing like the world bent for him anyway. His eyes, cold gray and sharp as glass, looked straight at the door like he already knew I was there.
My pulse went wild. How? How did he know my address? My name? Why was he here today of all days?
Another knock. Calm. Certain.
“I know you’re in there, Miss Haye.” His voice was low and steady, the kind of voice that didn’t need to shout to command. “Open the door.”
I backed away fast, like the door was on fire. My mother’s letter echoed: Never let Damien Voss near it.
My voice shook. “What do you want?”
A pause. Then, through the wood, “You have something that belongs to me.”
My eyes snapped to the chest. My stomach twisted.
“What are you talking about?” I tried to keep my voice strong, but it cracked.
“I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone sharpened, but he wasn’t angry. He was amused. Like I was entertainment.
I clenched my fists. “Then stop wasting your time. I don’t have anything of yours.”
Another pause. And then, almost softly: “You think you’re safe because there’s a door between us?”
My skin prickled.
Silence followed, except for the storm. I counted three, four, five seconds before another knock, slower this time.
I hated that my legs shook. I hated that his voice made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t understand. But most of all, I hated that part of me wanted to open that door.
“Go away,” I whispered.
For a moment, I thought he had. Then… footsteps. Heavy, measured, retreating down the hall.
I exhaled shakily, pressing my forehead against the cool wall.
But then, my phone buzzed.
A text. Unknown number.
You’re already in the game, Aurora. Pretending you’re not won’t save you.
I froze. My gaze snapped to the chest.
Another buzz.
You have 24 hours. Open the door next time. Or I’ll make sure you have nothing left to lose.
My blood turned to ice. I stumbled back, clutching the phone, staring at the chest like it could answer me.
What game? How did he have my number? What the hell was inside that chest?
The rain pounded louder, drowning out everything. My body trembled, not from the cold but from the knowledge that nothing about my life was normal anymore.
I whispered into the empty apartment, voice breaking: “What have you done, Mom?”
But the chest just sat there, locked, silent. And Damien Voss’s voice lingered in my head, dark and certain: You have something that belongs to me.
And for the first time in my life, I believed him.
