A BILLIONAIRE'S HEART

THE FIRST STRIKE

Chapter 4:

The city of Madrid awoke under a pale gray sky, the morning drizzle reflecting off the wet cobblestones like broken glass.

But the beauty of the rain, the soft scent of damp earth, couldn't reach me. My chest still throbbed with yesterday's events, with the shadow that had burst into Damian Herrera's world—and mine—and vanished as if it had never existed. Every instinct screamed that the danger hadn't disappeared; it had only waited.

I sat in Damian's apartment, the panoramic windows offering a breathtaking view of the city, but I couldn't see it. My mind replayed every detail: the cold precision of the stranger's voice, the calculated threat, the feeling that, even in this fortress, no wall could protect me from what was to come. Damian paced slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes scanning every corner of the room with a precision that made me feel both protected and, at the same time, incredibly vulnerable.

“You need to understand something,” she finally said, her voice cutting through the silence like steel. “This isn’t a random attack. Every move they make is deliberate. Every observation… every message… is a test. And the tests aren’t just about measuring you; they’re about weakening you, finding a vulnerability.”

I swallowed, trying to calm my racing heart. "So... what do we do?" I asked, barely able to keep my voice steady.

He stopped and turned to me, his presence filling the room. “We’re preparing. And we’ll fight back, but carefully. You can’t afford to make mistakes, Sophia. One false step and they won’t just threaten… they’ll take everything. Everything.”

The words made my stomach clench. "Everything?"

"Yes," he replied, his jaw tense. "And you're at the center of it all."

I wanted to protest, to argue, to say I wasn't ready for this, but my voice failed me. I wasn't ready. I couldn't imagine that the world I had lived in before—the quiet mornings at Aunt Olivia's beauty shop, the predictable, ordinary life—collide so violently with a world I didn't understand, with a war I had been unknowingly swept into.

The phone vibrated on the table. Damian's hand reached out with lightning speed to pick it up. His eyes scanned the screen, and for the first time, I saw the storm lurking behind his calm. A single word escaped his lips:

—They are moving.

My heart stopped for a second. —Already?

"They've started," he confirmed. "And this... is the first blow."

I followed him without a word as he walked to the window, opening it despite the chill in the air. Below, the streets seemed ordinary: taxis weaving between cars, people hurrying to work, umbrellas swaying in the rain—but Damian's eyes were fixed on the shadows. His fingers skimmed across the tablet he held, quickly analyzing patterns, cross-referencing faces, signs, and locations.

I couldn't understand everything, but I understood enough: the threat was organized, deliberate, and terrifyingly close. My pulse raced, my thoughts spun uncontrollably. How had my life become a chessboard in someone else's war?

Damian turned to me, his expression impenetrable. "You need to stay focused. Remember everything I taught you yesterday—don't trust anyone outside this room, no one outside this building. And most importantly: the enemy is patient, cunning, and ruthless. They won't show themselves until it's too late."

I nodded, trying to process his words, trying to gather my courage. But before I could ask another question, the building's security system beeped urgently. Damian turned his head toward the monitor. His eyes narrowed.

"They're inside," he said quietly.

My stomach sank. "Inside? How... how did they get in?"

He didn't respond immediately. His jaw tightened, and his hand reached for the weapon hidden beneath his jacket. "It doesn't matter," he said finally. "They've breached our perimeter. We'll deal with it now."

The sound of shattering glass echoed from the terrace. My heart leaped into my throat. Damian moved first, with a speed and precision that left me paralyzed. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the shadows, his body shielding me as the front door splintered under the force.

A figure emerged from the smoke: a tall silhouette, its movements deliberate and practiced. Every step calculated, every action purposeful. I held my breath. I couldn't see its face, but I knew it wasn't an ordinary intruder. This was the first of many, and the threat was no longer just intimidation.

Damian's voice was low, dangerous, almost a growl. "Stay here. Don't move."

I nodded, unable to speak, my pulse pounding in my ears. But my eyes never left the figure. Every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to survive. And in that instant, I understood: this was no longer a marriage of convenience. This was a battlefield, and I was trapped in the middle.

The figure stopped suddenly, as if sensing our presence. A shadow emerged from the darkness, and a cold, deliberate voice whispered through the room:

—Sophia Herrera… we have been waiting for you.

I froze.

Damian's hands tightened around mine, his body tense like a predator's. My mind screamed warnings, but before I could react, the figure vanished into the shadows, leaving only one undeniable truth: this war had only just begun.

And I was already a target.