OWNED BY THE BIKER KING

Chapter 9

Morning sunlight slowly filtered into the massive bedroom through the cracks of the heavy velvet curtains, drawing warm golden lines across the floor.

I stirred softly against the plush sheets, the sheer comfort of the mattress making me want to sink deeper into it before I slowly forced my eyes open. For a few quiet seconds, I stared blankly at the unfamiliar, vaulted ceiling, trying to orient myself.

Then—last night came rushing back like a tidal wave.

The dim living room. My broken confessions. The raw, humiliating tears. And worst of all... Ryder holding me securely in his arms while I cried my eyes out.

My eyes widened in sheer horror, and I buried my burning face straight into the fluffy pillow, letting out a muffled, pathetic groan. Heat rushed to my cheeks so intensely it felt like a fever.

“Why on earth did I tell him all of that...?” I whimpered into the fabric.

The embarrassment was so suffocating it made me want to dissolve into the mattress and vanish. I had spent months building walls, pretending to be tough, and in the span of one night, a single biker with sharp eyes had completely dismantled me. And the absolute worst part? I had ruined his leather jacket and shirt with my tears.

After spending ten solid minutes mentally suffering alone, I finally forced myself out of bed. I carefully smoothed down my hair, washed my face in the adjoining luxury bathroom, and padded downstairs.

The mansion looked entirely different during the day. The dark, menacing aura from last night had vanished, replaced by bright sunlight reflecting off immaculate marble floors. A few staff members moved silently around the house, tending to their duties like ghosts.

But Ryder was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Luca.

I looked around the grand foyer awkwardly before hesitantly approaching a kind-looking maid who was dusting a nearby vase.

“Umm... excuse me...” I asked softly, my voice echoing slightly in the vast space. “Where are Ryder and Luca?”

The maid paused her work and lowered her head politely, offering a reassuring smile. “Young Master Ryder left very early this morning on some urgent business, Miss Elena. And Young Master Luca is currently at his corporate headquarters.”

I slowly nodded, offering a small thank-you. For some reason, the moment she said those words, the mansion suddenly felt three times bigger—and a lot emptier.

After a quiet, delicious breakfast served by the staff, I sat near a towering bay window in the living room, staring out at the manicured gardens absentmindedly.

That was when the same maid approached me again, carrying several heavy, premium shopping bags.

“Miss Elena,” she said politely, placing the bags carefully onto the plush couch beside me. “Young Master Ryder had these prepared and delivered for you this morning.”

I blinked in utter confusion, staring at the high-end logos on the bags. “For me...?”

The maid nodded. Inside were beautifully tailored clothes, shoes that looked exactly my size, and several luxury toiletries.

I froze, a strange, unexpected warmth spreading rapidly through my chest. He had actually gone out of his way to buy all this... just for me? And how did he even know my sizes so perfectly?

Before I could process the unfamiliar feeling of being cared for, the maid spoke again, her tone turning serious.

“Young Master Ryder also specifically asked me to relay a message to you.”

I looked up, my ears perking. “What did he say?”

“He said, You must stay inside the perimeter of the mansion for now.” The maid hesitated slightly before continuing in a softer voice. “He insisted that if you want to go anywhere at all, you must wait until his return. No exceptions.”

The pleasant atmosphere in the room instantly evaporated, replaced by a heavy weight. I lowered my gaze slowly to my lap. It didn’t sound like a casual request. It sounded like an order. But more than that, it felt like Ryder was desperately trying to shield me from a danger that was already closing in.

Miles away, inside one of the tallest glass skyscrapers in the city center, Luca Kane calmly stepped into his penthouse office. He had just concluded a grueling three-hour board meeting, and the second the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind him, the stoic mask on his face slowly cracked.

Without wasting a second, Luca walked straight toward his massive mahogany desk. He unlocked the bottom drawer with a heavy brass key, pulling out the faded, silver-framed photograph from last night.

He laid it flat on the desk. In the picture, the little girl with the brilliant, laughing eyes stared back at him from beneath the summer rain.

Slowly, deliberately, Luca reached into his briefcase and pulled out another manila folder—the quick background check his security team had run on Elena. He opened it, placing her current photograph directly beside the childhood picture.

Silence, thick and absolute, filled the executive office.

Luca leaned back against his leather chair, his sharp jaw tightening as an uneasy shadow crept into his chest. The resemblance wasn't just a coincidence. It was undeniable. The same defiant curve of her eyes. The exact shape of her smile.

“Impossible...” he muttered quietly to the empty room, his fingers tracing the edge of the old frame.

Yet no matter how many times his analytical mind sought a logical explanation—the girl sleeping in his brother's bed upstairs looked exactly like the long-lost girl from their past.

Taking a steadying breath, Luca reached for his encrypted desk phone. A few seconds later, a professional voice answered.

“Find out everything there is to know about the girl, Elena,” Luca ordered calmly, his baritone sending a chill through the line. “I don’t want a standard background check. I want a deep-dive asset trace. Every house she lived in, every school she attended.”

A dangerous silence followed before Luca added in a dark whisper, “And find out who her real family is. Leave no stone unturned.”

Back at the estate, the walls started to feel like they were closing in on me. I began to quietly wander around the grand hallways just to keep my mind occupied.

The house was still overwhelmingly huge. Too quiet. Even with the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows, the place felt like a beautiful museum rather than a home.

As I walked past the main portrait gallery in the western wing, my eyes landed on a massive oil painting hanging centrally against the dark wood wall.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Inside the gold-leaf frame stood a younger, teenage version of Luca and Ryder, looking stiff and regal beside an elegant, middle-aged couple. But the moment my eyes locked onto the beautiful woman standing in the center of the painting—my breath caught entirely in my throat.

The woman looked familiar. Too familiar.

My heart began to hammer against my ribs. I slowly stepped closer, my brows furrowing in deep confusion. Why did the sight of her make my chest ache? Why did her gentle, painted smile feel like something I had seen a thousand times before?

Suddenly, a dizzying sensation twisted inside my stomach, and fragments of blurry, chaotic memories flashed briefly through my mind again.

The smell of petrichor. A child's laughter. A warm, melodic voice calling out a name... a name that wasn't Elena.

I winced, pressing my palm against my temple as a sharp spike of pain shot through my head.

“Miss Elena?” a voice called out, shattering the illusion. One of the passing maids noticed my pale expression and quickly approached with concern. “Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?”

I shook my head slowly, forcing a reassuring smile, though my eyes remained glued to the painting. “The woman in this portrait... who is she?”

Before the maid could answer, the heavy front doors of the mansion swung open, echoing through the foyer.

Ryder had returned.

He walked into the grand foyer carrying several steaming paper bags in one large hand while using the other to loosen the rolled-up sleeves of his black shirt. He looked tired, a few stray raindrops clinging to his dark hair, but the moment his obsidian eyes landed on me standing by the gallery, his hard expression softened imperceptibly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked calmly, his deep voice instantly grounding the chaotic thoughts in my head. “Feeling any better than last night?”

For some strange reason, the moment he spoke, the haunting familiarity of the family portrait vanished from my mind. All my focus snapped entirely to him.

“Y-yeah...” I answered, my voice catching as I walked toward him. “Much better.”

Ryder walked past me toward the living room, placing the heavy paper bags onto the low table. “I brought food from a diner down the road. Thought you might be tired of the fancy stuff the chef makes.”

The savory scent of fresh burgers and fries filled the air, making my stomach rumble. I followed him into the room, sitting on the edge of the couch. For a brief moment, as he casually unpacked the containers, the atmosphere felt strangely... normal. Almost peaceful. Like we were just two regular people sharing a meal.

But as I watched his large, calloused hands place a drink in front of me, the memory of my emotional breakdown from last night came roaring back. My cheeks warmed up all over again.

I cleared my throat nervously, staring down at my straw. “...did I really cry that badly last night?” I asked in a small, mortified voice.

Ryder paused for a split second, a fry halfway to his mouth, before his dark eyes slowly rolled up to glance at me.

Then—a faint, devastatingly handsome smirk slowly touched his lips.

“Bad enough to give me a pounding headache,” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement.

My eyes widened in sheer horror. I quickly grabbed a napkin and covered my face. “Oh my God...”

Embarrassment flooded my entire system, while Ryder let out a quiet, rare chuckle under his breath—a deep, rumbling sound that did strange things to my pulse.

“I’m so sorry...” I muttered miserably from behind my hands.

Surprisingly, Ryder didn’t tease me any further. Instead, he gently nudged the drink closer to my hand, his expression turning surprisingly soft. “Eat your food, sweetheart.”

And somehow... as the comfortable conversation between us began to flow, the heavy shadows of my past and the strange familiarity of the family portrait were completely forgotten.

For the first time in a year, I just felt happy.

To Be Continued