The Secret Heir’

Episode2

I stared at the man standing in front of me. His voice was calm, like he had not just killed three people. His grey eyes were cold and empty, like he felt nothing at all. Blood pooled around the bodies on the ground, and I could not stop shaking.

"Who are you?" I managed to whisper.

"Lucien Valeo," he said. "And you are coming with me."

I shook my head and took a step back. "I am not going anywhere with you."

He sighed, like I was being difficult. "You have two choices. Get in the car and live, or stay here and wait for the next group of men to find you. They will not be as easy to kill."

"Why should I trust you?" I asked.

"You should not," he said simply. "But right now, I am the only reason you are still breathing."

I looked at the bodies again. My stomach turned. I had never seen a dead person before, and now there were three of them lying in front of me. I wanted to run, but my legs would not move. I wanted to scream, but my throat was dry.

Lucien walked toward me, and I flinched. He stopped a few feet away and looked at me carefully. "You are Aveline Blackthorn, daughter of Vincent Blackthorn. That makes you the most valuable person in this city right now. Every crime family, every politician, every person who wants power will come for you. Some will try to marry you. Some will try to kill you. Some will try to use you. But all of them will come."

"I do not understand," I said. "I do not know anything about any of this."

"I know," he said. "That is why you need me. I can protect you. I can teach you. But you need to get in the car now, because more men are coming."

As if on cue, I heard the sound of engines in the distance. Lucien's jaw tightened. "Now, Aveline."

I did not have time to think. I ran to the car and got in. Lucien slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. We sped out of the alley just as two more black vans turned the corner behind us. I looked back and saw men leaning out of the windows with guns.

"Get down," Lucien ordered.

I ducked just as bullets shattered the back window. Glass rained down on me, and I screamed. Lucien did not flinch. He drove faster, weaving through traffic like he had done this a thousand times before. The vans followed us, but Lucien was faster. He turned down a narrow street, then another, then suddenly we were on the highway.

After ten minutes, I realized we were not being followed anymore. I sat up slowly, breathing hard. My hands were shaking, and there was glass in my hair.

"Are you hurt?" Lucien asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

"No," I said. "I do not think so."

"Good."

We drove in silence for a while. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past. My mind was racing. Everything that man said in the bookstore, everything Lucien just said, it could not be true. I was nobody. I grew up in foster care. I worked at a bookstore. I was not the heir to some criminal empire.

But the men who tried to kidnap me were real. The bullets were real. The bodies were real.

"Where are we going?" I asked quietly.

"My home," Lucien said. "It is the safest place in the city."

"And then what?"

"Then we talk."

I wanted to ask more questions, but I was too tired. Too scared. I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Lucien was shaking my shoulder gently.

"We are here," he said.

I opened my eyes and gasped. We were parked in front of a massive mansion. It had tall iron gates, stone walls, and more windows than I could count. It looked like something out of a movie.

"You live here?" I asked.

"Yes."

He got out of the car, and I followed him. Two men in suits appeared from nowhere and opened the gates for us. They did not speak, but they watched me carefully. We walked up the long driveway to the front door, and Lucien opened it.

Inside was even more impressive. Marble floors, high ceilings, expensive paintings on the walls. It was beautiful, but it also felt cold. Empty.

"Follow me," Lucien said.

He led me down a long hallway to a sitting room. There was a fireplace, leather couches, and a bar in the corner. He poured himself a drink and offered me one. I shook my head.

"Sit," he said.

I sat on the couch, and he sat across from me. For a moment, he just looked at me, like he was trying to figure something out.

"Do you know who your father was?" he finally asked.

"No," I said. "I was told he died when I was a baby."

"He did," Lucien said. "Five years ago. Vincent Blackthorn was one of the most powerful men in this country. He controlled everything: drugs, weapons, money laundering, and politicians. He built an empire, and when he died, that empire was divided among his most trusted men."

"Then why does any of this matter to me?"

Lucien leaned forward. "Because you are his only child. His only heir. And in this world, blood is everything.”