Riven woke up late that morning.
His phone was buzzing like a wasp nest — missed calls from his assistant, his father, even his mother. His brows furrowed. That many calls meant one thing: something had gone wrong.
He sat up, stretching lazily in bed, still half-asleep, when the phone rang again.
His father.
He swiped to answer. "Hello, Dad. Morning."
Alan's voice came sharp and rushed.
"Riven. Why the hell weren't you picking up? Listen to me carefully — leave the mansion immediately. Clear everything. Derek's men found your location. He could go to the CIA or FBI, or just launch an attack. Either way, no proof should be left behind. Understand?"
Riven sat up straight now. Sleep vanished from his system. "Got it," he said calmly.
A knock landed on the door before he could say anything more.
"Gotta go. I'll handle it," he said and ended the call.
It wasn't a new situation. Being hunted, relocating bases, moving in the shadows — it was just another day in the Vallar empire.
He walked to the door and opened it.
Lucas stood there, tense. His assistant was always calm, but today he looked sharp, alert, already in mission mode.
"Boss, urgent—"
"I know," Riven cut him off. "Dad told me. Did you start the job?"
Lucas nodded. "Yes, sir. Basement is cleared. All sensitive items have been moved to the warehouse. We'll go underground for a few days. The staff has been sent to different safehouses. In ten minutes, this place will be empty."
"Good. I'll get ready," Riven said, turning back into the room. "Clear this one too before we leave."
"Yes, sir." Lucas disappeared down the hall.
Riven walked to his wardrobe and started getting dressed. His movements were smooth, calm.
This was routine.
When your world was built on secrets, enemies were expected.
He buttoned up his shirt, slid on his watch, and glanced around the room — at the bed, the furniture, the mirror. It would all be gone in minutes. Erased like they were never here.