Sera's POV
I yank the door open just as the footsteps reach my hallway.
Damien Cross goes fast. One second he's in the hallway, the next he's inside my apartment, pulling me back and shutting the door silently.
"Don't make a sound," he whispers.
Through the thin door, I hear voices. Men's sounds. Angry.
"You sure she's in this building?" one man says.
"Boss tracked her phone to this address," another answers. "Check every apartment."
My heart bangs so loud I'm sure they can hear it.
Damien's hand covers my mouth softly. His eyes meet mine—dark, fierce, warning me to stay quiet.
Knocking starts down the hall. Loud, forceful knocks. "Building security! Open up!"
They're going door to door. Getting closer.
I try to pull away from Damien, but he holds fast. With his free hand, he pulls out his phone and types something fast.
Three units away now. Two.
The knocking stops right outside my door.
I stop breathing completely.
"This one?" a voice says, so close I can hear him breathing.
"Nah, boss says skip 4C. Some businessman owns it. Been empty for months."
My eyes go wide. I look at Damien. He smiles slightly and holds up his phone screen.
It shows a property deed. For this flat. In his name. Dated six months ago.
He's owned my secret flat this whole time?
The footsteps move past my door. Keep going down the hall. Finally fade away completely.
Damien releases me and steps back, giving me room.
"You own this place?" My voice comes out shaky.
"I own seventy properties across this city," he says calmly. "When I found out you were renting this one under a fake name two years ago, I bought the building. Made sure the owner didn't ask questions. Made sure no records connected you to this address." He stops. "Made sure that when you needed somewhere safe, the Thorntons couldn't find you."
"You've been watching me for two years?"
"Six years," Damien corrects. "Since the night you disappeared from the hospital after your parents' accident."
My legs feel weak. I sink onto the mattress. "Who are you really?"
"I told you. Damien Cross. Your half-brother." He sets his suitcase on my card table. "Your father—our father—had a first marriage before he met your mother. I'm the son from that marriage."
"That's impossible. The Thorntons said I was an orphan. That I had no family—" " The Thorntons said a lot of things." Damien's voice hardens. "All lies. You're Sera Ashford, sole heir to the Ashford Empire. Your parents were killed six years ago. And the Thorntons made it look like an accident so they could steal everything."
The room spins. "Why should I believe you? You could be anyone. Another person trying to use me—"
"Because of this." Damien opens his briefcase and pulls out the picture he showed me through the peephole. "This is you at six months old. That's your mother, Elizabeth Ashford. That's our father, Jonathan Ashford. And that's me at age nine, holding you the day you came home from the hospital."
I take the shot with trembling hands. The baby's face is round and happy. The woman holding her has my exact smile. The man has my eyes. And the boy...
I look up at Damien. The same dark eyes stare back at me. Older now. Harder. But clearly the same.
"I don't remember any of this," I whisper.
"You were twenty when the accident happened," Damien says. "The head injuries gave you partial amnesia. The Thorntons found you in the hospital, confused and scared, and told you they were your legal guardians. By the time I tracked you down three months later, you were already living with them, believing their story."
"Then why didn't you—"
"Tell you the truth?" Damien's jaw tightens. "I tried. But every time I got close, the Thorntons moved you. New house. New city. New personality. They kept you separated, monitored. No social media. No real friends except Maya, who they carefully screened. They made sure you were dependent on them for everything."
It's true. All of it. I never questioned why I couldn't have Instagram like normal people. Why Richard always checked my emails. Why Margaret picked all my friends.
I thought they were just protective.
"You could have called the police," I say. "Told them I was kidnapped—"
"With what proof?" Damien counters. "You thought you were Sera Thornton. You had fake papers showing a legal adoption. And the Thorntons have strong friends—judges, politicians, police chiefs. Anyone I went to with the truth suddenly stopped returning my calls." His face darkens. "Two private investigators I hired to gather proof disappeared. Just... vanished. That's when I realized I needed to wait. Build my own power. Get strong enough to protect you when the time was right."
"And now the time is right?" I'm still trying to understand everything. "Because Adrian's marrying Vanessa? Because they threw me out?"
"Because they're getting desperate," Damien says. "You're twenty-six now. Old enough to start remembering on your own. Old enough to ask dangerous questions. The engagement to Adrian kept you busy, but now that's over. They need you gone permanently."
The words hang in the air like poison.
"Gone," I repeat. "You mean—"
"I mean dead." Damien says it clearly. "You're worth eight hundred million dollars, Sera. The Thorntons have been stealing from your trust fund for six years, but they can't access the majority without your death certificate. Right now, you're a risk. A witness to their crimes. And as of tonight, you're a threat."
My hands won't stop shaking. "So what do I do? Run? Hide? Spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder?"
"No." Damien's smile is sharp and dangerous. "You fight back. You take everything they stole. You destroy them so completely they can never hurt anyone again."
"I don't have money. No job. No power. Nothing."
"You have me." Damien pulls out a small box from his bag. Opens it. Inside is a ring—a huge diamond that catches the dim light. "Marry me, Sera. Not a real marriage. A business partnership. I'll restore your legal name, give you access to resources they can't touch, and protect you from anything they try." He stops. "And together, we'll make sure they pay for what they did to our father and your mother."
I look at the ring. At this stranger who claims to be my brother. At the only lifesaver being offered while I'm drowning.
"Why?" I ask. "Why do you care so much? If we're only half-siblings, if you barely know me—"
"Because they killed my father too," Damien says quietly. "And I've spent six years watching you suffer while they got away with murder. I'm done watching." His eyes meet mine. "The question is, are you ready to stop being their victim and become their worst nightmare?"
Adrian's face flashes through my thoughts. The wedding that's happening tomorrow. Vanessa wearing my dress, my ring, stealing my life.
Then I think about Margaret's evil smile. Richard's cold dismissal. Six years of being told I should be thankful, that I owed them everything.
"What's the catch?" I ask.
"No catch. You get your personality back. Your fortune. Your revenge. I get justice for my father and pleasure watching the Thorntons burn." Damien extends his hand. "Deal?" I should ask more questions. Should demand proof, DNA tests, legal papers. Should think this through carefully and rationally.
But I'm out of time. Out of choices. Out of people to trust.
I shake his hand. "Deal."
Damien's smile widens. "Good. We'll get the marriage license tomorrow. By the time Adrian's marrying Vanessa, you'll be Mrs. Cross." He reaches back into his bag. "But first, you need to see this."
He pulls out a big manila folder. Opens it. Inside are pictures, documents, police reports.
And written across the first page in red ink is one word: MURDER.
"These are the real accident reports," Damien says. "The ones the cops buried. The brake lines on your parents' car were cut. The crash scene was staged. And this—" He pulls out a picture. "This is security footage from the parking garage where their car was sabotaged."
I look at the grainy picture. Can barely make out a person near a car.
"Look closer," Damien says.
I squint. The person turns slightly toward the camera.
My blood turns to ice.
Because even though the photo is blurry, even though it's six years old, I know that face.
It's Richard Thornton.