Bound By Blood & Mercy

Invitations

In the high-ceilinged expanse of his private study, Damian leaned back in his leather armchair. The wound across his flank pulled tightly beneath his fresh bandages, but his face remained a mask of dark, bored indifference.

In his right hand, he held a heavy, foil-embossed envelope. He flipped it over lazily, staring at the golden coat of arms pressed into the cardstock.

"The Vance Family Annual Charity Gala," Jernon announced, standing respectfully across from the mahogany desk with his hands folded behind his back. "It’s scheduled for tomorrow evening at the Vance central estate. You need to attend, Boss. Our legitimate logistics expansion requires a clean partnership with their corporate board, and building a public relationship with Julian Vance will keep the board compliant."

Damian let out a low, irritated exhale, tossing the invitation onto the desk as if it were trash.

"I have no interest in standing in a room full of hypocrites drinking cheap champagne, Jernon," Damian said coldly, his dark eyes flickering with disdain. "Send a gift or a proxy. My time is worth more than Julian Vance's political circus."

Jernon didn't flinch. Instead, he took a step forward, his voice dropping into a low, deliberate cadence.

"Boss... it’s the Berna Vance line. The primary branch."

The ambient temperature in the room seemed to plunge instantly.

Damian froze. The bored apathy vanished from his face, replaced by an unreadable, razor-sharp intensity. His dark eyes locked onto Jernon, calculating, heavy, and dangerous.

"Berna's line," Damian repeated slowly, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with a dangerous, quiet weight.

"Yes," Jernon confirmed smoothly. "Julian Vance’s primary estate."

Damian stared at the gold-embossed card on his desk for three long seconds. A slow, dark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Prepare the motorcade," Damian commanded, leaning back into his chair. "I’m going."

"Understood, Boss," Jernon bowed slightly. He glanced at Damian's usual dark attire and added, "I will have the tailors prepare your best formal suit for tomorrow night... and this time, not a black one."

Meanwhile, across the city, the afternoon sun gleamed off the massive glass facade of the Grand Horizon Luxury Mall—the most exclusive shopping center in the metropolis, where high-society heiresses and celebrities spent fortunes away from the public eye.

Walking through the marble corridors alone was Rory Vance.

Clad in a simple oversized designer sweater, pleated skirt, and high-top sneakers, she looked effortless, youthful, and entirely detached from the pretentious atmosphere around her. She carried a single luxury shopping bag, her dark eyes scanning the boutique windows with mild disinterest.

BRRR. BRRR.

Her phone buzzed violently in her palm. Rory looked down at the screen, saw the name Chloe flashing in bold letters, and immediately let out a dramatic, annoyed sigh. She pressed accept, bringing the phone to her ear without waiting.

"What do you want?" Rory asked directly, her tone clipped.

"Watch your attitude, little sister," Chloe’s sharp, melodious voice chimed through the speaker, brimming with her signature vanity. "Where are you? I need to pick out a dress for tomorrow night's gala, so drop whatever you're doing and come shopping with me."

"I'm already at the Grand Horizon," Rory replied flatly, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

"Perfect, b***h," Chloe snapped cheerfully. "Send me your exact location right now."

Before Rory could utter a single word of protest, the line went dead with a harsh click.

Rory stared at her phone in disbelief, muttering under her breath as she tapped out her current location near the central VIP lounge and sent it. Shaking her head, she walked over to a velvet waiting sofa outside a high-end French boutique and sat down, crossing her legs as she waited.

Less than ten minutes later, a stir echoed down the marble hallway.

Flanked by two discreet bodyguards carrying oversized shopping boxes, Chloe Vance strutted toward the lounge like she was walking a Paris runway. Wearing an oversized designer trench coat, massive dark sunglasses concealing her S-tier face card, and high heels that clicked rhythmically against the stone, she instantly drew the hushed whispers of passing shoppers.

Chloe lowered her sunglasses slightly with one manicured finger, waving dramatically at Rory.

"Greet your older sister properly, darling," Chloe purred with a glamorous smirk.

Rory stood up, rolling her eyes so hard it practically hurt. "You dragged me out here just to flex your security detail? Let's just go inside. It’s f*****g way too crowded out here."

Chloe let out a dramatic gasp, patting her chest. "Language, Rory! A Vance heiress doesn't swear in public." But she didn't disagree, turning smoothly on her heel and strutting into the private VIP suite of the boutique.

Inside, luxury racks filled with haute couture gowns were wheeled out by attentive store staff.

Rory browsed through the racks quickly, completely unbothered by the eye-watering price tags. Within two minutes, she pulled out a structured, elegant white short dress with delicate lace trimmings—simple, chic, and youthful.

"I'll take this one," Rory told the sales attendant.

"A short dress? For a central gala?" Chloe judged from across the room, holding up a dramatic, sweeping light-pink silk gown against her own tall, ethereal frame. She admired her reflection in the full-length mirror, turning left and right. "You have zero sense of drama, Rory. This is how an S-tier visual dresses."

"I like comfort over drama," Rory retorted dryly, sitting back down on the velvet armchair. "Not all of us need three hours of red-carpet prep just to eat dinner."

Chloe tossed her hair back, admiring her light-pink gown in the mirror before handing it off to her assistant. She glanced at Rory through the mirror's reflection, her tone shifting slightly.

"So," Chloe asked casually, trying to sound unbothered. "Is Victoria coming tomorrow night? Or is our brilliant trauma surgeon sister going to hide in her operating room again?"

Rory’s face instantly lit up, a genuine smile replacing her annoyed expression. "She’s coming! I called her yesterday, and she promised she’d be there."

Chloe turned around, her eyes widening in genuine excitement. Beneath her spoiled, dramatic exterior, a rare flash of genuine affection surfaced.

"Really? Victoria actually agreed to come to Dad's fake little party?" Chloe hummed, a triumphant smirk spreading across her red lips. "Good. It’s been ages since the three Vance sisters were in the same room. The press is going to go crazy."

Chloe strutted over to a display case filled with custom jewelry and luxury accessories, snapping her fingers at the store manager.

"Rory, come over here," Chloe commanded, her mood suddenly soaring. "Since Victoria is actually showing up, we need to pick out a welcome gift for her. Help me pick the best one—nothing less than perfection for our older sister!"