To Raya her father had been her everything. Since she was little, that man had been there for her. Not like a normal father, maybe, but Raya was grateful for what she had.
But did she really have to sacrifice herself just to prove she loved him? Just to show she was grateful he hadn't abandoned her the way her mother did?
She had no time to decide.
Adrian gave a signal.
Stone and another man walked over and began untying Philip.
The silent man—Grigor, a hulking brute who hadn't spoken a word or even smiled since they arrived—stepped forward. He dragged Philip by the arm, the man still crying, and strapped his wrist down to a table with practiced ease.
A large knife gleamed in Grigor's hand.
"Wait—what are you doing?" Raya gasped.
Adrian stood. "If I don't get my money, I take what's owed—piece by piece. Today, a finger. Tomorrow, a toe. By the end of the week?" He shrugged. "Who knows what's left."
"This is illegal, please don't do this… I beg you, this is not right," she said desperately.
"Even if you cut him into pieces, you won't get your money. Please," she added, her voice breaking, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
"Please—don't do this—please—!" Raya cried, trying to stand though she was still bound tightly.
Grigor raised the knife. The man wasn't bluffing—he was ready to strike.
"STOP! I'll do it! I'll do what you want, anything you want, please—!"
But it was too late.
A sickening slice filled the room.
"Ahhh!"
Philip's scream tore through the air as his thumb hit the table.
"PLEASE!" Raya sobbed, the dam finally breaking. "I said I'll do it! I'll be your damn fiancée, anything you want—please stop!"
"Please, I beg you," she chanted, voice trembling.
Adrian's eyes didn't waver. "Too late. That offer expired the moment you walked away."
Grigor raised the knife again.
"NO! Please, Mr. Blake—I was wrong. I was stupid! I'll do anything—just don't hurt him anymore. I'm begging you! Please… I'm so sorry, I'm sorry if I offended you in any way, I'm sorry, please don't hurt him!"
Raya cried profusely now, desperate for Adrian to listen.
Adrian held her gaze a beat longer. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears, making her look pitiful.
Then he gave a small nod.
Grigor lowered the blade, stepping back.
Philip collapsed against the table, groaning in pain.
"Untie her," Adrian ordered.
Ace moved behind Raya and cut her ropes. She immediately tried to run toward her father—but Grigor caught her arm mid-motion, one hand pressing against her stomach.
"Please—just let me—" she gasped. "Just let me check on him, please," she begged, but Grigor didn't react. Her pleading didn't move him at all.
Adrian had already turned his back.
"Let's go," he said coolly, walking out with Stephen behind him.
Grigor slung Raya over his shoulder and carried her out, her sobs echoing down the hallway as she unwillingly left her father behind.
---
The drive was long, cold, and silent.
Raya sat huddled in the back seat, her eyes burning, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Adrian didn't say a word. He stared out the window, his expression carved from stone, as if nothing had happened—as if her father hadn't screamed in agony less than an hour ago.
The mansion that came into view was larger than the last one she had been taken to. Dark brick. Tall iron gates. Imposing.
The car slowed to a stop.
Adrian stepped out first, his coat catching the breeze. He didn't look back.
As Raya was ushered out of the car, he finally spoke—his voice clipped and distant.
"Rest for tonight. Stephen will show you to your room."
And with that, he disappeared through the grand doors without a second glance.
Raya's limbs ached as she followed Stephen into the mansion. Her boots echoed against the marble floor. The air smelled of fresh polish and subtle cologne—expensive, impersonal.
They climbed the stairs in silence.
"You'll be staying here for now," Stephen said, opening a set of double doors to a spacious, richly furnished bedroom.
Raya stepped inside slowly, her eyes scanning the space.
It was beautiful, but she wasn't in the mood to be awed.
She tried brushing her hair behind her ear—with her left hand.
Stephen, still standing by the door, caught it.
He had noticed she had been using her left hand since the car.
"You're left-handed."
Raya turned to him, surprised. "Yeah. Why?"
"Seraphina isn't," he replied. "She's right-handed."
Raya blinked.
"So?" The word slipped out before she could stop it.
"So you'll need to start practicing. Now," Stephen continued. "Start with brushing your teeth tonight with your right hand, or maybe combing your hair. You don't want people asking questions."
He didn't say it like a threat.
But it felt like one.
He left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.
Raya stared down at her hands.
Left hand. Right hand.
She didn't feel like either belonged to her anymore.
---
Meanwhile—
The soft hum of the engine was the only sound in the car as Alessia Romano scrolled through her phone, her manicured fingers gliding smoothly over the screen. The tinted glass kept the world out—just as she liked it. Her driver sat silently in the front, trained not to speak unless spoken to.
A message pinged in her notifications, followed by a call. She picked up, her expression unreadable at first.
"Victor Blake has been trying to schedule a meeting with you all week."
"He's reportedly reached out to your father too."
Her lips curved slowly—not into a smile, but into something colder. Calculated.
"Finally," she muttered.
Alessia Romano had been looking for ways to meet with Victor but wanted it to appear accidental. She couldn't let it seem like she was the one pursuing him.
She leaned her head back against the leather seat, her eyes half-lidded in thought. Victor Blake. Adrian's half-brother. The less polished one. The one desperate to matter in a family that didn't treat him like blood.
She tapped her nails rhythmically against her thigh.
"Do you want to reply, Miss Romano?" her assistant, Lina, asked over the car's Bluetooth.
Alessia took a beat before answering. "No. Let him try harder."
"But he's been asking—"
"I said no, Lina." Her voice was sweet, but firm. "Tell him my schedule is full. For the next two weeks. Actually—make it three."
"Understood."
She ended the call and tossed the phone beside her, her eyes drifting to the window as the city lights blurred past.
Victor was interesting. Handsome, yes. Not as refined as Adrian, but there was potential. And if Adrian didn't want her, maybe it was time to show him she had… options. Powerful ones.
But still—she wouldn't just hand herself over.
No. Let Victor chase her.
Let him grow restless. Curious. Obsessed.
And when he was just desperate enough, she might toss him a glance. A word. Maybe even a meeting.
A slow, amused exhale left her lips.
"Men," she whispered to herself, "are so predictable."
And as the car turned onto a quiet, upscale street in the heart of the city, Alessia Romano leaned back and closed her eyes, already three steps ahead of everyone else.
She needed to prove to Adrian that only the man destined to be king of the underworld would be her man.