TWO GRAVES, ONE VOW

Ava's POV I floated in an endless, weightless sky, as if the world below had faded away. I reached out my hand, trying to grab onto something, but my sister hovered just beyond my reach. I called her name softly, my voice carried on the breeze. “No, don’t go!” I cried out, my voice echoing in the vast silence. Without warning, a dark shadow appeared between us, pulling her further into the darkness. I sprinted forward, but the sky seemed to warp and shift. Suddenly, I gasped and jerked awake, my heart pounding as the morning light streamed through my window, fragments of the nightmare dissolving into darkness. For a moment, I just sat there. Silent. Listening. The room was still. Beyond my floor-to-ceiling windows, the city was only starting to wake. I reached for my phone on the nightstand at 6:00 A.M. A long sigh escaped me. "Two hours," I muttered. That was all I’d managed two hours of sleep after fighting through most of the night. My eyes burned, clearly a familiar price of ambition. I pushed the sheets aside and stood, heading toward the mirror. The naked woman staring back looked composed at first glance, it looked beautiful, controlled, powerful. But the dark circles beneath her eyes told a different story. I studied my reflection for a few seconds, the dream still lingering, the helplessness, the fear, her disappearing into the distance. My jaw tightened. "f**k you," I whispered, voice barely carrying, to the mirror, to myself, maybe to the past. Even I wasn't sure. I turned and walked into the bathroom. Warm water from the shower washed over me, easing some of the tension locked in my muscles. I stood under it longer than needed, letting the heat clear my mind. By the time I stepped out, I had buried that nightmare where it belonged,in the past. Clad in a silk bathrobe, I made my way downstairs. The dining room overlooked the city skyline. My laptop sat waiting on the table. Within seconds, I opened it and started reviewing documents. The phone beside me buzzed. PA. Right on time. I answered immediately. "Good morning, Ma'am." "Morning." There was a brief pause. "What's my schedule?" Paper shuffled on the other end. "You have a meeting with Victor Harrington at nine o'clock during the VIC H Gala preparations." My fingers hovered over the keyboard. "Continue." "You have a board meeting at two, an investor review at four, a strategy session with the Singapore division at five-thirty, and a media appearance request from—" "Cancel it." "Yes, Ma'am." "The charity luncheon invitation?" "Cancel." "The interview request?" "Cancel." My PA hesitated for a moment. "Everything except the Harrington meeting?" "Everything except Harrington." "But Ma'am...." "What did I just say?" "Understood." "Good." I closed one of the reports on my screen. "Meet me here by eight." "Yes, Ma'am." The call ended, and silence settled once more. I leaned back in my chair, gazing out at the city. Victor Harrington didn't request meetings without a reason, and powerful men rarely gave anything for free. Whatever he wanted, I'd find out soon enough. And there it was, silence, at last. Many people disliked silence because it compelled them to confront their thoughts, while I valued it because it provided clarity. Noise was a distraction, so were excuses, and so were individuals who needed the same instruction repeated. When I gave a directive, I expected it to be executed, not debated, not questioned, executed. Perhaps that was why I had retained the same personal assistant for three years, Anna, a rare gem. Competence was uncommon, loyalty was even rarer, and finding both in one person was exceptionally rare. I closed my laptop and headed upstairs. My meeting with Victor Harrington was less than an hour away. The richest man in the country did not invite people to his gala without a purpose; he wanted something, and the question was what. My walk-in closet occupied nearly half the room, rows of designer clothing meticulously arranged by color, style, and occasion. Many would consider it excessive, though many were not responsible for running billion-dollar companies. My gaze moved across the collection before settling on a crimson dress. Red, authority, impossible to overlook, exactly what I needed. I slipped it on and studied my reflection in the mirror. The dress complemented my figure without appearing ostentatious, with long sleeves, a high neckline, and clean lines. Elegant, professional, commanding. People often underestimate the influence of presentation. Before a single word was spoken, assumptions had already been made, and I preferred to shape those assumptions myself. The diamonds remained, subtle, refined, valuable enough for those who recognized the quality, unremarkable to those who did not. My makeup followed the same principle, precision over excess.Light foundation, soft contouring, mascara, eyeliner, and a muted red lipstick that complemented the dress without demanding attention. Every detail was intentional. The woman staring back at me was not merely beautiful. Beauty was common. The woman staring back at me looked capable, and that mattered more. I brushed my hair carefully, arranging the brown waves until they framed my face perfectly. Then I smiled. Not because I was pleased, but because I knew exactly what others would see. Control. The doorbell rang. Precisely on time. I picked up my bag and headed downstairs,my assistant was already waiting by the entrance, another reason I kept her. Punctuality was not exceptional; it was expected. "Good morning, Ma'am." "Mornin’ Anna." We walked toward the car together. "What about the expansion project?" I asked. "Phase one was completed yesterday." "Investor response?" "Positive." "The acquisition?" "Contracts are being finalized." Good. One less issue to address. "What about the Singapore shipment delay?" "Resolved overnight." I nodded. As expected. "There is one issue regarding the other branch's development—" "Handle it." "Yes, Ma'am." No excuses, no unnecessary explanations, exactly how I preferred it. Outside, a black luxury sedan waited by the curb.The driver opened the rear door,I stepped inside. My assistant remained standing outside. "I'll send today's reports before noon." "Do that." The door closed, and the city began to move past my window. Ordinarily, I would have spent the drive reviewing reports, preparing for negotiations, and analyzing figures. Instead, my thoughts drifted elsewhere. The dream returned. Again. I disliked that. Disliked how a memory could still find its way through barriers I had spent years constructing. My fingers moved toward the handchain around my wrist. The metal felt cool against my skin. My sister, years later, I still remembered everything: her laugh, her voice, the promise I made to my late mother, the certainty that I would always keep her safe. A naïve promise. I shouldn't have made that promise, not after what she did to me. And yet I had spent years pursuing it. I looked out the window as the city blurred past. Somewhere out there was an answer. And if Victor Harrington knew anything about it,then this meeting was more than a meeting. It was an opportunity. And I had never been the kind of woman to overlook an opportunity. THE VIC H GALA The sedan came to a smooth stop beneath the grand entrance of the VIC H Gala, and before I could reach for the handle, my driver was already opening the door. I appreciated people who understood expectations without needing them explained. Stepping out onto the stone walkway, I adjusted the sleeve of my dress and glanced briefly at my watch. I saw other cars lining up. Lots of cars. The event had only just begun, which meant Victor Harrington was likely still making his rounds, greeting guests, and reminding everyone why they had accepted his invitation in the first place. "Be back in two hours," I told my driver. "Of course, Ma'am."