Chapter Two: The Problem with Strangers
POV: Adrian
Adrian had learned, over the years, to recognize the precise moment when something went wrong.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic.
It was quiet—like a hairline crack in glass you didn't notice until it spread.
That moment came when his phone vibrated on the upper deck of the Aurelius and the name on the screen made his blood cool.
Henri Liévan.
He stepped away from the party, the glow of Singapore's skyline blurring as he answered.
"She's here," Henri said without greeting.
Adrian exhaled slowly. "You're mistaken."
"I'm not," his uncle replied. "Mia Chen. Twenty-seven. Singaporean. The claim cleared preliminary verification."
Adrian's grip tightened on the phone.
Impossible.
"That's not funny," Adrian said.
"I'm not joking," Henri replied flatly. "And I don't like surprises."
Neither did Adrian.
He ended the call and stood still for a moment longer than necessary, the noise of laughter and clinking glasses fading behind him. The Liévan family had spent decades controlling narratives—who belonged, who didn't, which scandals were buried and which alliances were celebrated.
No one appeared out of nowhere.
And yet…
His gaze found her immediately.
Mia Chen stood near the railing on the lower deck, the city lights reflecting in her dark hair. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. No performative laughter. No strategic positioning. She looked… thoughtful. A little overwhelmed. Human in a place where most people were performing their act.
That should have reassured him.
Instead, it unsettled him.
Adrian descended the stairs with natural ease, every movement calculated, every expression composed. This was how he survived this world—by staying two steps ahead, by never revealing more than necessary.
Mia turned as he approached, her expression shifting from surprise to guarded curiosity.
"You disappeared," she said.
"Family call" he replied. "They have impeccable timing."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "They always do."
That earned her a second look.
"You seem very calm for someone who just received an inheritance email on a billionaire's yacht," he said quietly.
Her eyes widened—just a fraction.
"You saw that?"
"Your face changed," he said. "Most people don't notice, but I was trained to."
She laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. "Congratulations. You noticed correctly."
Silence settled between them, heavier now.
"So," Adrian said, leaning against the railing beside her, "do you want to tell me why my family's lawyers are suddenly very interested in you?"
She turned to face him fully. "Your family?"
There it was.
The flicker of realization.
"You're a Liévan," she said.
He inclined his head. "Guilty."
Her lips parted slightly, then pressed together. "That explains a lot."
"Such as?"
"Why this evening feels like the beginning of a very expensive nightmare."
Despite himself, Adrian smiled.
"You have no idea," he said.
They stood shoulder to shoulder now, close enough that he could catch the faint scent of her perfume—something light, different. Not designed to fit, unique.
Dangerous.
"You look like someone who doesn't want to be here," he said.
"I wasn't invited to be comfortable," she replied. "I was invited to be evaluated."
The cold honesty caught him off guard.
"You're smarter than most people who walk onto this yacht," Adrian said.
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
She glanced at him, her gaze sharp. "You don't trust me."
"No," he agreed easily.
"And yet you're still standing here."
He met her eyes. "Curiosity is a flaw of mine."
Her smile was slow, cautious. "Mine too."
For a moment, something shifted—an awareness, electric and unsettling. Adrian was used to desire. It rarely surprised him.
This did.
A waiter approached with champagne. Mia accepted a glass this time, lifting it slightly.
"To accidents," she said. "The kind that ruin perfectly planned lives."
Adrian clinked his glass against hers. "To accidents," he echoed.
Their eyes held a beat too long.
Then Henri appeared at the edge of Adrian's vision, his presence like a shadow creeping across polished floors. His uncle's gaze flicked between them—measuring, assessing.
A warning.
Adrian straightened.
"They're going to make this difficult for you," he said quietly.
Mia's expression hardened. "I didn't ask for this."
"No," he replied. "But they'll assume you did."
She swallowed. "And you?"
He hesitated—just long enough to tell the truth.
"I haven't decided yet."
Her jaw tightened, disappointment flashing across her face before she masked it.
"Well," she said coolly, "I hope you decide quickly. I won't to be anyone's pawn."
She set her glass down and walked away, disappearing into the glow of the party.
Adrian watched her go, something unfamiliar tightening in his chest.
Because for the first time in a very long time, the threat wasn't losing control of the empire.
It was wanting someone he wasn't sure he was supposed to trust.
And knowing the family he belonged to would never let her walk away untouched.