CHAPTER 5: WELCOME TO THE EMPIRE
1795 Words
I didn’t even know where we landed. It wasn’t an airport, not the kind I knew anyway.
We touched down somewhere quiet—no terminals, no crowd. Just a wide, open tarmac surrounded by luxury cars and lined with people. A whole damn line of them.
They weren’t paparazzi.
They weren’t family either.
Were they guards? Staff? Servants?
I didn’t know. All I knew was—every one of them bowed when I walked past. Some curtseyed. Their eyes never met mine. Just dipped low like I was something sacred. Or dangerous.
Maybe both.
What the hell is happening?
Was this what being rich felt like?
No.
This wasn’t just wealth.
This… was power.
“Welcome to Arizona Estate Airstrip, Miss Arizona,” the pilot said, stepping out behind me with a slight smile.
Did he just say Miss Arizona?
Oh my God.
This was really happening.
He seemed to catch the panic in my eyes. “Rest assured, we’ve been informed to keep your identity a secret.”
Miss Arizona
He said it like it was normal. Like I hadn’t spent the last twenty-one years being Leah Sanchez—the girl with two jobs and barely enough rent money.
I didn't respond. I couldn’t.
“Leah! Over here!” A voice snapped me out of it. It was loud, warm and…familiar.
I turned and—
Grayson.
He looked nothing like the scrawny boy I remembered from three years ago. Now, he was six feet of trouble—sun-kissed skin, a sharper jawline, and a black shirt that clung to him like it knew it was lucky. His hair was longer, messier, hotter. And that smirk?
Yeah. Still deadly.
I didn’t even think. I ran and threw my arms around him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked breathlessly.
“My dad was coming to pick you up,” he said, nodding to the older man beside him. “I tagged along.”
I turned and found myself face to face with a man I hadn’t noticed. He had that quiet power—gray at the temples, and stern eyes. That kind of man you didn’t mess with. He looked familiar—probably from the folder they gave me on the flight. Mr. Pacowski.
“Good morning, Mr. Pacowski,” I said carefully.
He took my hand and—what?!—kissed my knuckles like I was some duchess.
“Good morning, Miss Arizona. How was your flight?”
I blinked. Grayson definitely didn’t say his dad was charming.
“Uh… fine,” I mumbled.
He didn’t smile. Just gave a polite nod.
“Don’t be surprised. You’re basically his boss now,” Grayson leaned in and muttered.
Boss.
I almost laughed. I couldn’t even manage my own life.
“So,” I turned to Grayson, frowning. “You knew all this and didn’t bother to call me?”
Grayson had the nerve to look sheepish.
“I lost my phone after that fundraiser last week,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.
“You’re telling me you found out your best friend was some billionaire’s secret daughter and didn’t think to write a letter or send a damn pigeon?”
He held up his hands. “Okay, fine. I'm sorry. But I was just as shocked as you. Imagine finding out your best friend is your dad’s secret baby girl. Like… hello, plot twist.”
I smiled a little, even if I didn’t feel it.
“Right? It’s like one of those dramatic Netflix shows.”
“Yeah, like Rich Kids of Trauma Heights. Starring Leah Sanchez”, he teased.
“That’s Miss Arizona to you,” Mr. Pacowski interrupted flatly, and Grayson rolled his eyes.
I turned back to the older man, nervous all over again. “Mr. Pacowski… is it true? Am I really… his daughter?”
He nodded slowly. “Your father had letters from your mother. Photos of you as a child. It’s real, Miss Arizona. He never stopped keeping track.”
“But… she told me he was dead.”
“She probably did it to protect you,” he said softly
Just like Hasani said…
Wait—Hasani. Where was he? He wasn’t there when we landed. Everything was spinning too fast. One second I’m a bartender, and now I’m supposed to be the heiress of a multibillion-dollar empire?
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what to feel.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.
“Then let me help,” Mr. Pacowski said gently. “I was your father’s secretary. I’ve managed this family’s affairs for over twenty years. I’ll make sure you find your footing.”
“This is definitely not the reunion I was hoping for,” Grayson muttered beside me. I smiled a little.
But before I could say anything, Mr. Pacowski straightened.
“Let’s go before paparazzi shows up. We need to get to the mansion. Others are waiting.”
Others? Oh yeah, I wasn't the only illegitimate child.
“And as the eldest, you’re expected at the company headquarters. You’ll be introduced publicly soon…”
Eldest? Company headquarters? My stomach immediately dropped.
“And there’s a gala coming up in your father’s honor. You’ll have to attend his…”
“Dad. She just landed. You’re overwhelming her,” Grayson cut in, stepping forward.
I looked at him, grateful.
“You know what? I’ll drive her back. She needs air, not more pressure,” he said.
Mr. Pacowski narrowed his eyes, but eventually nodded and left.
“Thanks for pulling me out of that,” I said as we walked to his car.
“I know how my dad gets.”
“Honestly, Grayson…I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
He studied my face and his voice softened. “ I know."
There was an awkward silence after that. Though he wanted to say something, like selecting his words to not ***
“You remember that café we used to go to?” he asked.
My head tilted. “The one on Madison street?”
“ Yup.”
I looked at him. “Is it still there?”
“Not just there. You’re looking at its new owner,” he grinned.
I stopped. “You’re joking.”
“No I'm not. I bought it last year. It’s mine now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I slapped his shoulder. He made a face then smiled.
“I wanted it to be a surprise when you got back.”
I smiled—genuine, for the first time all day. “That’s perfect. You were always good at baking.”
“Thank you. Now let’s get going before everyone at the mansion thinks you got kidnapped by aliens.”
I burst out laughing.
As we reached his car—oh my God—a sleek black Aston Martin sat waiting. Of course. I’d seen it on his i********:. I just didn’t know it was his.
Before I could open the door, he stopped me and pulled something out of the backseat—a bouquet of blue peonies. My favorite. Their scent hit me instantly—fresh, and nostalgic.
“You remembered.”
“Of course I did. Welcome home, Leah.”
He opened the passenger door and helped me in. For the first time since stepping off that jet, I felt grounded.
---
THE ARIZONA MANSION
The drive to the Arizona estate didn’t take long.
But it felt like hours.
It looked like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare. Depending on how you felt about old money.
Massive pillars. Stone lions. A driveway so long, it needed its own zip code.
The moment we pulled into the driveway, staff were everywhere—maids with polite smiles and eyes that followed you like portraits.
They lined up again.
All of them. Like they’d been told I was coming for months and had rehearsed every bow. A butler opened the car door for me and greeted me by name.
I walked past, like it was normal. Like I was someone important.
I didn’t feel important. I felt like a girl in the wrong movie.
Inside, everything gleamed. Marble floors. Gold trim. A chandelier big enough to crush a small car.
The moment we stepped into the grand hallway, I heard voices.
We turned the corner and—
Mr. Pacowski stood by the grand staircase, talking to a girl in tight white silk pants and glossy heels.She looked around my age… maybe younger. Long chestnut hair, curled to perfection. Her makeup was flawless, with an expression like she’d sucked a lemon. She turned the second she saw me.
Her expression twisted like she’d just smelled something foul.
“That her?” she asked flatly.
He nodded.
She crossed her arms. “How many affairs did that old gizzard have, anyway? Are we sure more cockroaches aren’t gonna crawl out of sewers claiming to be Daddy’s babies?”
I blinked. My lips parted—but no sound came out.
Did she just—
“I’m his only f*****g daughter,” she spat.
Someone stood beside her the whole time. A man in his late fifties or so, dressed in a dark grey suit with calculating eyes.
He said nothing at first.
But he watched me.
He’d been watching me the whole time.
“Richelle—” Mr. Pacowski started.
Richelle Ryan Arizona. I’d seen her all over i********:. The face of Arizona Cosmetics.
“She doesn’t belong here.”
“You were present when they read the will, it proves…”
“The killer hasn’t been found,” she cut in, stepping closer.
“What are you implying?” Mr. Pacowski asked sharply.
“She’s saying that my brother's will won’t be executed until the murderer is found. And until then, Miss Leah Sanchez—from whatever shithole she came from—is a suspect,” the older man said coolly.
My mouth parted. “ What? I don't understand.”
The hell does that mean?
“Well, sweetie,” Richelle said with a sneer, “that’s not a good enough alibi.”
The old man leaned closer. “If the murderer isn’t identified in thirty days, the will becomes null. You get nothing. And seeing as you came out of nowhere days before Lorenzo was killed, it doesn’t look… great.”
I stepped back without meaning to.
They… they think I killed him?
“I didn’t even know him,” I whispered.
“Not good enough,” the man said, smiling like a vulture. “But hey, no one can prove you didn’t.
Richelle leaned in close, lips brushing my ear.
“I will not let some trashy bartender take my legacy.”
- Writer
